To the World I’ll Be

I was going to write a sucky-feeling NaNoMonday yesterday, not because NaNoWriMo sucks, but because I felt rather sucky. Heart broken twice in one weak? Seemed like a new record. Then things actually improved drastically yesterday and I felt sucky no longer. So today I was going to write an honorary NaNoTuesday, but then I realised something amazing.

This is my one hundredth blog post.

I can’t believe I’ve already got ninety-nine under my belt. I had to check at first to make sure none of the drafts I’ve written (which are mostly notes to myself containing websites or stories to read) weren’t included in that number, and they weren’t. So. Yeah. This demands something special.

NaNoWriMo, I love you. But you come every year.

This comes only once.

See, I haven’t had any plans for this…so I reckon I’ll just share a few pieces of poetry that speak a bit about me. It’s of no consequence, really, but for some reason, it seems reasonably fitting. One hundred is a square number, but I am not a square person. No one is. We all have countless edges, countless faces, countless facets and I know I’m no different. I have a personality for every person I meet, and sometimes I wonder, with how often I wander, if anyone ever gets a chance to see the real me (or even if I recognise him myself).

The point being, for this special occasion, I’ve selected a small number of poems that I’ve written throughout the years that speak to me, some about sexuality, some about nature, some about nothing in particular. So please peruse as you please and enjoy the poetry.

…And since I can never end on just enough: It’s worth mentioning, since I find it interesting, that I keep all my poetry in a file called “My Voice.” Years ago I made all my files match the “My Documents” make-up and made the structure seemingly parallel, but this one holds a special meaning: My Voice. I haven’t always been as vocal as I am now, I haven’t always been as brave as I sometimes can be these days, and trust me, I don’t always know what I’m feeling and how to put it into words. But when nothing else works, I can always resort to poetry to express myself, to be my voice when every other means fails.

Remember

Chopsticks are fun
but toothpicks are better
to chew on.
The title’s an allusion
to the implication
that fictional characters
eat between the scenes
the storybook details
never told.
Thought you oughta know.

Driving Home in the Dark of Night

A single star
Illuminates
The sky

Watery clouds
Swim
Like fish
Beneath the pearlescent moon
And wash
Like foam atop water
In her silvery white light

A second star
Shines
Pale upon
The deep blue sky

Désiron

You say we’re too young to love
But maybe too young is too old
If we could love sooner than later
Maybe we would be lovers not haters

My Body is My Sanctuary

My body is my sanctuary
it doesn’t matter what you say
I know that I am beautiful
that I was made this way

My body is my sanctuary
where I find my place of bliss
away from worried feelings
I feel free like this

My body is my sanctuary
where I chant my timid prayer
where peace and love fall around
and I breathe in sacred air

I’ve Decided to Commit Suicide, Please Talk Me Out of It

I’ve decided to commit suicide
So please talk me out of it
I don’t want to die
But my life has become but a lie
And I can’t remember when I felt higher than this

I love you and I don’t want you to go
And I know that I’ll miss the world upon the other side
So let me hear your voice and tell me it’ll be alright
And lie down beside me and hold me through the night
Because I know you’d die not to let me go

Tell me that I have the right to live
That my life isn’t worth the cost of death
Tell me that I have talent and skill
And that I have another chance still
And coerce me into suspending my disbelief of your truths

I’ve decided to commit suicide
But please, talk me out of it tonight
Coax me into believing your words
And to a new day lead me towards
And know that I’ll live on, that I will be alright

Waiting for Exposition

It’s like watching fireworks being
launched into the sky
on the Fourth of July.
I know well enough to expect
explosions
and thunder
but I still tremble and shudder
when light fills the air.
I like watching these lightshows
especially in stormy summers
when lightning illuminates the smoke
like the shadows in the back of my mind
the ones I like to avoid.
Sitting here
I know I’m no firework
no explosive
no lightshow
yet still I feel the fuse
burning down my crown like kundalini
I can feel the altitudes fall around me
as I soar higher from this drug that
sane people call oxygen and
psychiatrists call life.

For His Heart is Mine

For his heart is mine
I shall find no sleep tonight
Held in his embrace
Lost amid his dreaming hands
His skin upon mine
My breath for his body
As sleep descends us both
When morning comes
For his heart is mine
I shall find myself alone another day

Written in the Rain

I shut my eyes tight
tonight
it’s all right
to fight
for love
for light

Take my hand
like passing sand
till I land
tonight
in love
in light

I look away
today
take in the stray
I sway
in the fray
towards love
towards light
and hold tight
tonight

Coming Out

There is a place for me in the world
this much I can see
only now, other people
have to see me

I can hide in the shadows, friendly and shy
and still be welcomed wholly
but wholly is only halfway
when they know only half of me

I can say the words and hear them
and hear them, too, can you
but until you see them, feel them
it doesn’t mean they’re true

I can stand before you
truest in self
and still be seen through
when your eyes shut themselves

I can raise the shield
and I can raise the sword
but senseless battles wage war not change
and till our arms are open everything will be the same

I can tell you, time and time again
who and what I am
but all my words mean nothing
if you don’t listen and see who I am.

Here I Am Again

Here I am again
Back where I began

Risk taken
(rest assured)
This mistake I was making
(but don’t blame me–lines were blurred)

Here I am again
Back where I began

I’ve been here before
(with pain, without gain)
And I’ll return some more
(but don’t worry–I’ll never be the same)

Here I am again
Back where I began

Heartbroken without shame
(unafraid to be alive)
Another round, another game
(but trust me–I’ll survive)

Here I am again

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5 thoughts on “To the World I’ll Be

  1. Twice in a >week<? :( That's way more than one, and only slightly less than three. Though, then again, if less than three, it might be the reason it's broken!

  2. Yes, in a week. Bear in mind, on two ends of a week, so technically in two weeks, but only in a week’s time… And second was just a misunderstanding, thus why things drastically improved on Monday, so it really is less than three!

  3. Evaluating poems has become a rather odd hobby of mine (since mostly it’s done on request), and I believe this is because, even when the true meaning eludes me, they can still tell more than any picture or conversation ever could.

    These poems, however, where meant for reading (and, I believe, reading alone), so I will only state I was very impressed with Désiron (Though, admittedly, I’m a sucker for short poems. T_T).

    ‘For his heart is mine’ also ended in perfect phrasing, and for that, you have my appreciation.

    Thank you, Darren, for sharing these with us.

    (Oh, and ‘Remember’ sure is something that will turn any frown upside down. ;))

    • Thank you. (:

      You do know, though, that if you want to evaluate, I’d love to hear it. But perhaps email would be the better medium for that, and when the semester is over and I have time to do things again, I’ll read your thoughts then. (:

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