NaPoWriMo 2020 Day 20 + April PAD Challenge Day 20: A Gift Wrapped in Horror

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

could it be a gift

exposing social failings

in isolation

not everyone has to work

in external location

~sly has spoken~

image copyright juliahenze @123rf.com

NaPoWriMo Day 20: Write a poem about a gift

April PAD Challenge: Write an isolation poem

notes

I have felt for years that certain jobs could be done remotely. This would both reduce the amount of traffic on the road, resulting in reduced pollution and reduced stress levels, and would allow more disabled people the opportunity to work. I would like to think that maybe some companies will see the proverbial light and continue to have certain jobs be done remotely. I won't hold my breath, because experience says that people are stupid, apathetic, lazy, and generally evil, and I don't trust them to do the right thing.

Naughty Netherworld Press Patreon!

Support snarky political poetry and weird fiction! Join the Naughty Netherworld Press gang Patreon for as little as a buck a month. No longer do you have to follow multiple blogs to keep up with Team Netherworld! 

Be recognized each month for your contribution to exposing the evil of corrupt politicians and keeping the world weird. Gain exposure for your blog, page, or book, if you want it. When you support us, we support you!

NaPoWriMo 2020 Day 19 + April PAD Challenge Day 19: Message to My Past Self

Background image copyright Skitterphoto on Pixabay

Click to enlarge

The text follows in case you're on mobile 

 Dear fucking moron,
Instead of worrying so much
about what people who don't matter think of you

Instead of always having to buy
The latest and greatest whatever
and spending money like it's going out of style

Instead of worrying about finding
a man to complete you
and hopefully not beat you

Try getting your shit together a little bit
so I don't have to end up broke and broken
cleaning up the remnants of what your out-of-control self
left behind for me to deal with

Your future self

NaPoWriMo: Make a walking archive

I didn't exactly do that. I found an image with a bunch of stuff in it that worked.

April PAD Challenge: Write a message poem.

NaPoWriMo 2020 Day 18 + April PAD Challenge 2020 Day 18: The Happiest Days of our Lives

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Saturdays of youth

a precarious respite

a week of struggle

hearing messages of hate

that stuck forever with me

~cie~

NaPoWriMo: Write an ode to Saturdays

April PAD Challenge: Write a message poem

It's time to stop behaving as if the scars on the inside are trivial.

NaPoWriMo 2020 Day 15 + April PAD Challenge 2020 Day 15 + Words for Wednesday: Blue Dream

Image by Sandra Myles from Pixabay

I am your blue dream nightmare sunless sky

drawn from the depths of forgotten traumas

a thousand brisk switches leaving bloody trails

the gold within my heart not worth the trouble

aggressive word witch with a way to walk that says

stop where you are, stay the fuck away

I am not your delightful, delicate princess

not your pretty pop tart teen queen dream

hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and I

am scorn personified

I'll tear out your throat with pointed teeth

I'll rip out your heart with my bare hands

I am ground glass in your hipster latte

I am claws scraping over metal in a dark alley

I am a decaying, dirty city, ugly and gritty

I spit your name black from my mouth

I despise and disdain everything you stand for

and contrary to what you have told yourself

I wouldn't want to be like you

shallow and flighty, fading to nothing when exposed to light

blowing on the whims of any breeze that happens by

you are nothing and nobody, a Barbie doll princess

but looks fade and boys cheat and if your worth is tied up

in whether or not some creep thinks your tits are fine

and your ass is hot

then you will live your life chasing impossible perfection

botox and liposuction and spending each waking hour

obsessing on whether your ass is too fat

I am the nightmare you so fear becoming

old and fat and unwanted and pissed off as hell

I'm waiting for you around the next corner

so if you don't want to waste your life fearing becoming

what we all one way or another eventually do

concentrate on what's inside, on your soul, not your looks

on your skills and your truth and the strength of your self

youth is here today, gone tomorrow like a popular song

but the blues lives forever

real, gritty, unpretty

tarnished, unvarnished

sometimes mean as hell

taking shit from nobody

surviving with the middle finger flying high

to stupid conventions

and soulless fucks

who want to steal your thunder

'cause they've got none of their own

the blues can be your best friend

but the blues can fuck you up 

the blues don't bow down to nobody

the blues don't get played for a fool

so be your own dream

not what someone else tells you

don't be a bubblegum pop tart illusion

be true to yourself

be the blues

Sincerely,

The Ornery Fucking Old Lady

Not apologizing to anybody

NaPoWriMo: Write a poem about your favorite kind of music.

Blues is the backbone of rock of any genre. The blues is real, bare-bones, angry, no-bullshit music with a story. The blues doesn't ask you to be pretty or happy. The blues is real. 

April PAD Challenge: Write a dream poem. I'm pretty much everyone's worst nightmare.

Poem Genre: Slam poetry

Word List

Sunless,

Drawn,

Forgotten,

Brisk,

Thousand,

Gold, 

And/or

Delicate,

Walk,

Aggressive,

Word,

Witch,

Stop,

NaPoWriMo 2020 Day 14 + April PAD Challenge 2020 Day 14: Your Legacy

Image by Barbara Bonanno from Pixabay

I

am not

what you hoped

but I am, nonetheless

the legacy that you created

I am your Frankenstein monster

built from the things

that made your life

worth living

I am a

twisted

sorry

awful

mockery

a failure

of a person

I am not 

what you hoped

but I am, nonetheless

the gifts you gave me

~cie~

NaPoWriMo: write a poem about the people who inspired you to write poems

April PAD Challenge: write a form poem

notes

I think the shape above is a chess pawn. It started out as a simple diamante but turned into what you see. It is what it is.

This poem addresses my late father. He was a professor of literature and humanities who also taught technical writing. I was a precocious little skidmark who learned to read and write by the time I was four years old. I think my father believed that this prodigious spark meant that I was destined for greatness. He read poetry to me. I started reading Edgar Allan Poe's works when I was six years old.

My father wound up tremendously disappointed in me. I was a fuckup who could never do anything right and I had a slew of psychological problems. I was singled out and abused by my peers. I married too young. I had one abusive relationship after another. I engaged in self-harm. Possibly, worst of all, between a fucked endocrine system and years of yo-yo dieting, I ended up fat. My father believed that being fat was a sign of failure. He always went to great lengths to prevent himself from being fat. He ran six miles a day for many years. However, his vascular system was a disaster. He had a major hemorrhagic stroke at 68 years old. At the time of his death at age 74, he had suffered several more strokes, had congestive heart failure and vascular dementia, and was confined to a wheelchair.

If anyone's first inclination is to tell me "cHeEr Up, U cAn StiLLL LUz3 tEh WaTeZ!!111!!!" my suggestion to you is to check the ever-loving fuck out of yourself. Preferably on ice during a hockey game. I tried to hate myself thin for 33 years. With my endocrine problems, it is highly unlikely that I will ever be thin unless I do what my great-grandmother did. She developed acute myelogenous leukemia, dropped from 300 pounds to 95 in the space of a year, and dropped dead. But hey, she cut a svelte figure in her coffin, and, apparently, that's the only fucking thing that counts. Never mind that she was now, you know, DEAD.

In any case, I'm not going to waste another goddamn minute of my time trying to hate myself into the body that other people think I'm supposed to have. Thirty-three years of that shit is long enough. People who think I, or anyone else should do that, can slam down a hot, steaming cup of STFU, read the following fine books, and fuck off forever. Or if you're not a brainwashed, narrow-minded asswipe and you simply think: "say, those books look like they have some good information," you can read them while drinking what you want and omit the fucking off part. I'd think that was pretty cool.

NaPoWriMo 2020 Day 13 + April PAD Challenge 2020 Day 13: Taking It Back

Image by Alexas_Fotos from Pixabay

no I don't feel bad about

crawling out from beneath the crippling doubt

you try to crush me with your cruel words

to destroy the purpose within with attacks from without

no I don't feel bad about

stealing back the resolve you tried to snuff out

you've made it your purpose to keep me down

I've made it my purpose to present with clout

you won't hurt me anymore

I don't care about evening the score

you won't keep me subdued beneath your scorn

I find your diatribe a bore

I'm becoming more

than you bargained for

I'm not your punching bag

you're rotten to the core

you're empty, shallow, and weak

no more will I seek

your meaningless approval

with purpose I will forevermore speak

~cie~

NaPoWriMo: Write a non-apology for the things you've stolen

April PAD Challenge: Write a purpose poem

April PAD Challenge 2020: Day 11: Out of Control

it's very interesting, you know

the ones who claim to be so in control

are the ones who have no control

over their own lives and so

they try their damndest to maintain control

over the lives of others

~cie~