Friday, January 26, 2018

no one looks at me

Mature Content
--

and all the pretty people,
in the pictures and magazines,
get all the pretty people
to dance between the scenes

and all the pretty people,
like looking pretty all the same,
with all the pretty people
making everybody insane.

and all the ugly people
want to be the pretty ones,
or have the pretty ones,
or worship the pretty ones,

or fuck the pretty ones,
or kill the pretty ones,

and all the pretty people
laugh at all the rest,
while all the pretty people,
think that they're all the best.

and all the pretty people,
in the movies and on the screens
capture pretty much every attention,
so

Monday, January 15, 2018

The Protector of Osku Skoger

Tolf pulled me back into his arms. ~Not that way!~

My feet waved out over a hidden gorge at the edge of the forest, and my head spun at the ground falling away beneath my feet. Brown rocks that I couldn't see before I'd sprinted towards the edge glinted up from the riverbed far below, glistening with a sharpness that yearned to feel my fragile flesh,

It was my twelfth birthday

Last year, we were playing in the forest, hide and seek, not tag, and it was Ellefu who saved me from hunters who were patrolling deeper than ever before, a side effect of deforestation and coyote overpopulation.

Tolf and Ellefu are two of my monsters, the only family I've ever known, and every year, we come to Osku Skogur to play a game. The outcome of the game always brings the birth or discovery of a new monster.

Tolf was big and furry. His brown fur blended in with the trees of the forest, and his arms were long enough to wrap fully around me and hold me tight.

Ellefu was small and green, and light on her feet. She looked like a cross between and parrot and a badger.

It was Fimm who told me of the magic of Osku Skogur, the first time. He looked like an old man, and he spoke softly, his voice like the evening breeze through rain-laden leaves. Danger was doomed to befall me, every year, and every year, a new monster would save me and guide me through the coming year. He said it was the trees that found me, the wild green that watched over me, and in the deepest grove in the darkest green stood the oldest ash, and it was responsible for the magic.

And it would be my job to guard and protect it when I was old enough. In the meantime, it would see to my growth and education.

Fimm said only one knew where exactly the grove lay, and I would have to wait for Sextan and four more years to be shown. Until then, the trees would lead me astray from the grove. He told me the story every year, as we sat around the fire that kept us warm on the coldest and longest night of the year, the only fire that would burn in the whole of the Osku Skogur.

And at the end of the story, he whispered to me my name.

Allt.

Monday, January 8, 2018

At What Price

dip in your little toe,
to test the water's mete,
or dive in reckless
and find darkness deep?

what stirs 'round the bend,
what lingers beyond your sight,
what raises hairs on end
and sends shudders in the night,...

what boneless wonders
wander through the field?
how harsh the truth becomes
when bidden unconcealed.

do you sneak up behind it,
while sneaking up on you?
do you confront it boldly,
shine light on secrets true?

do you jump in head first,
nary a fear it eats you whole?
or hide from the fear,
lest it take your soul?

--
Written for Succus, who hates mystery with a passion so reckless that she lets nothing stop her from discovering the truth, not even the fear of discovering her own mortality.

Not Easy

it's hard to be, to see, to know,
it's hard to have, to hold, to show,
it's hard to want, to love, to keep,
it's hard to be two holes deep.

it's hard to stay as mystery,
stay sane, stay lone, and bleed...
it's hard to be more than one,
one mind, one name, one blood...

it's hard to be, to see, to know,
it's hard to have, to hold, to show,
it's hard to want, to love, to keep,
it's hard to be two souls deep.

--
Written for Callidus Igni, for a man who doesn't pretend to be anything that he's not, and lives one identity in both fiction and real life.