Of Moonlight
For the "Light breaks Water" Challenge
Moonlight upon the lake and I hear you say
that there's blueberries in the bramble yet
every time I come too close I get burned.
I fake having a smile because of you but its
exhausting me, can't you see?
Every time the full moon touches the lake I dream
of being beneath the sea,
arms out,
dress coated in water.
Every time is a second time I walk beside the
lake in the moonlight.
It throws its light
and I dream
nothing but nightmares.
About the Creator
Annie Kapur
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Pornographic Venn Diagramming
It's all performative, all damned to death and back. Born we are into this system of crippled development. Portrayed as enlightenment, but the reality is anything but. . I have long rallied against such realities, despite the burial of my past innocence, forgotten sanctity. . I wrote down some thoughts: . Well hallelujah Spread thin Tongue twisting tautogrammic takes of trauma and triumph Male shame and toxicity mixed with a little alienation and Oh oh the resentment Wafer thin . Xenophobia and the hardened husk of hatred and illegitimate anger and distrust we have become . . Desperation . . The secret language of the sextape . . Pornographic Venn diagramming . The shame, oh the . Shame? . Generation after generation closed off and colder . Heart unresponsive as the irresponsible as the moral vocal cords for the majority . . Minorities kerbed, chided . . We become the grotesque we loathe . . All our yesterdays forgotten The abstract replaces the grounded In an instant . . We become the loathsome grotesque . . All our tomorrows forgotten The grounded replaces the pure In an instant . . We become the grotesque we loathe . . I have become that which I hate. As I bring down the hammer of the gods of inconsequence and their wards, the stupid and stationary, I feel the shame. . . Shame? . . SlΓ inte. . . Merci beaucoup Oui, oui Ventus, ventus. . . Lilith adores. Diana engorges the might of Artemis and the cynicism of Perseus. . . As I look to the mirror and dismay shoots through like a sgian-dubh of truth, claidheamh-mΓ²r, I lift my Lochaber axe and punish the impure because I dare not face my own. Targe laid down. The dirk plunges into my neck by the phantom of reason. . . Fire. Fire. Fire. . . Water. Ice. . . Novocaine. . . Any D&D players available.Start writing...
By Paul Stewart2 days ago in Poets
Comments (5)
Deep and beautiful, love how you put the imagery (of the night and lake) to represent the strong dark emotion you feel
This is both gorgeous and devastating at the same time.
Oooo, this was so poignantly beautiful! I loved it!
This a beautiful piece, Annie. Well done!
This was phenomenally done, Annie. Dark and moody, yet somehow ethereal in its detail.