In multitudes of magnificence. napowrimo poem 16

 

Normal is vastly overrated.

 

The ordinary - boring and slightly dated.

 

Embrace the wonder of weird,

the obscure structures of odd,

those fumbled words to which we adhere,

in this world where unique is outlawed.

 

The magic lives right here

and it flows around us all

like candyfloss spinning

on a carnival stall.

 

There is joy to be found

if you flip the view upside down.

 

Stop looking through eyes

drowned by the murky,

grim waters that surround,

instead, swim high in the air,

let your thoughts fly

and they will combine

with a million more,

each more wonderfully obscure

than the one before.

 

 Normal is so last year. 

 

Now is the time to fully embrace life,

ignore the gripping vines that

cling to the walls from time to time,

climbing to try to obstruct your view,

cut off the air supply

to your already fraught lungs.

Find the weird that lives within you,

and let it wash away the grim residue.

 

For we are unique,

every smile sings of

something which lives

and breathes in multitudes

of magnificence.

 

Embrace the magic

and let the love it conjures

be the light that guides you.

Lobotomised

 

Lobotomised

thoughts

seep to the floor,

as another hole is torn

into the hope

we once held so sure.

 

The sound that poured

into the cracks from the void

have now soiled this earth.

So please try to avoid.

 

We are now no longer

mostly harmless.

 

We are fierce and dumb.

 

Our thoughts run,

but they don’t cling on

to anything good,

They only think

with the gun.

 

Little plastic army men

playing war,

but the weapons are not

pretend, and it is

real blood that pours.

 

Someone turned out the lights...

 

No more life.

 

A sad goodbye

as a mother cries,

all dressed in black,

mourning the loss.

 

They only ever

return in a box,

or with any life 

knocked from their eyes

from the constant shock

of the missile fire.

The sparkle in your eyes - NaPoWrimo poem 14

 

Taught safety in

hiding away.

 

Don’t shine,

don’t let anyone see

the sparkle

in your eyes.

 

Don’t let them see you rise.

 

They will bring you down

before you can

even let out a sigh.

 

Self-worth

in keeping silent,

 

or is it self-preservation?

 

When released emotions

would mean the earth,

but letting them settle

always seems safest.

 

Self-doubt plays a role.

Would my words dig a hole?

Would my heart fill that hole?

And would the topsoil

stain my fingers for eternity?

 

So, I roll on the rising tide.

 

Some would say

I hide behind a mask,

 

but I speak my truth aloud

every time I write.

 

Is it a test?

 

To see how much

we’ve grown accustomed

to second best. To see ourselves

as not worthy

of the time invested?

 

But inside I know

that I believe in me,

so, who is the imposter?

The mask I wear

or the hidden version

that only a few see.