Knock on the first, where
I saw a stranger on a hearse,
Their lifeline, a line on the sea.
It was another key, I picked
on the floor of sweet velvet carpets,
To a wistful door where I stayed
day and night in a casket.
It was a story to tell,
Yet, how could I? My lips were sealed
shut, my lips that I poisioned
with a smile that misspells my name.
I hid it in my disheartened eyes.
So look into it because I broke my wrist,
A language I owned, ceased to exist.
/Monday. Tuesday, Wednesday/
A rotten body halfway to the door.
Knocks on the door, I can’t ignore whilst
a thousand languages seemed to bore
shame in my eyes and mind.
I was gagged. Silent. Anxious.
/Thursday. Friday. Saturday./
Knock on the second and I’ll answer the
call where I welcomed the line of a decayed
achiever, remember the line? the sea?
I used the key and ran on it.
Strangers from the past.
Strangers from the future.
Strangers from the present.
Strangers from my own house.
Strangers that I met in my own heart.
Which language would they prefer?
Which language would I prefer?
I don’t want to lose them, and yet,
A stem that branches into a mayhem
is the shame that my eyes bore.
They are now stuck into a book,
Where I can look without running away from it.
I’ll write. I know I’ll write.
I lost track of the cycle.
I lost track of the time.
So, I sat and waited for February.
Don’t cheapen it.
See where it goes
Lose where it goes
Find it, lost
Find it, by losing.
Hurt your chest.
A game of miss and match
I was a boy and a girl, once.
I was an envelope.
I was something you used.
Now I set my goals
Sew my chest; remember and grow.
I am a boy and a girl.
I can sit up.
I can love you.
I can lie down.
I can sing.
I can paint my nails.
And I can break a window.
Torches and pitchforks
Weapons of mass destruction
Push back against the pushback
Lemmings don’t do themselves in
More Disney movie magic
Imagine that, cameras can be
Fairy tales woven into reality
Pull the threads and watch
The unraveling or snore under
Weighted blankets of complacency
Keep your hands and feet inside
At all times–it’s one bumpy ride
No fast pass no all access
Fall in line to do it again
Wait hours to spend exorbitantly
On what you are told is in demand
Who cares about the price
The hollowing out inside
Nothing beats the high of being
On-trend left fighting frivolously
Another face lost-
Pardon me for chasing this illusion,
Perhaps, a reverie
But more than a
I seek the true
Coup de grâce of a fool.
Why would I
Put a film noir on a spool;
Watch a heart sabotaged
Je veux l'amour; take me
26-1-2021, M.A. Tempels ©
How long does it take change to develop
What envelops one to take on such a tough task
One that is too much to ask of one
A burden meant to be held by many
Dreamt within the depths of hell
Yet held onto like a glimpse of sunlight
Trying to fight through the window tint
Which superhero do you recommend
Who do you know that has that much strength
Trinh is the only one I believe can break the chains
She’s the one who fights until she faints
She’s the one who doesn’t feign what she feels
You may think change is impossible
But she never second guessed that it’s real
In a world where woman must scratch and claw
For an ounce of awe that isn’t tied to her beauty
She bangs and bashes until the wall that clouds our view becomes debris
And we see women and men like you and me
and what was history, becomes ashes
She isn’t the type to just pose for likes
She types verbs and instills action within her words
And when the roads become wet with dread and stress
And the rain pounds down on her weary head
She never loses traction, nor wrecks
Or rests, She reps her family crest until her very last breathe
She has moonlight for a smile
Even when night lasts for a while
She never succumbs to the darkness
Ahead she charges
So even if you’re scared of a future you may not see
Within her light, our faith can breathe
When I tell you I am struggling,
I don’t want you to tell me
“At least you aren’t stuck at
work when you have literally
no energy to be around people.”
You’ve told me I can come to you,
but I’m having a hard time and it
feels like you just turn it back to you.
I’m not saying you aren’t allowed to struggle.
But don’t invalidate my struggles
just because you’re hurting too.
Sometimes I’ll write up a post I’m really proud of and tumblr will be like: meh. 2 notes.
But then I’ll post “✨women✨” and tumblr will be like: yes perfect wow have all the notes for your artistry
And like, I get it, but really?
What makes you lose your sleep?
Appropriation of miles on the map from the Cherokee
Appropriation of nouns and names from their vocabulary
Tacked above the door for all to see
“Welcome to the state of Tanasi”
You have two different coloured eyes
A grey-green and an orange-yellow
And two names, one for each side
There is one I prefer to the other.
I tell you about the two parts joined by rough seams
This is the role I’ve chosen, you haven’t forced me to
I’ve gotten into costume voluntarily
For this key scene in the film of your life.
Ok, so you nearly gave me herpes
Never brought so much as the cheapest wine to dinner
I fed you and sheltered you in borrowed comfort
For only a possibility in return.
Ok, so you sulked the day the condom broke
And I went jittery-silent with the fear of disease
And it never entered your head to ask if I got the pill
Or if I wanted you to come with me to the clinic.
Ok, so your brain chemistry was geared and set
To clinical selfishness, damaged enough to survive
And designed to make sure you landed on your feet
(Like cats do, or comfortably on your back with me.)
Ok, you were pathologically cheap, entitled
Without the manners of a dog
You served yourself before me and ate the last everything
Too thick or too sharp to hear my complaints.
But for a moment, weren’t you something much nicer?
Bare-ankled, firmly planted on the earth
The force and muscle of a Centurion in your frame
Skill in the pose and balance of spear and limbs.
Thick muscle on thick bones in the shoulders
Brightly armoured and guarded
A dream of a primordial counterpart
Perfect before I touched you.