Dark Hearts Love Too: Hold Me Again: I wish that it was possible to ask you to come hold me now to feel your kiss upon my brow o...
A poem of the gloomy variety.
Sunday, November 29, 2020
Tuesday, November 24, 2020
Food Bank Feast
Free Use Image by Jamie Nast on Pixabay
eighteen-pound turkey
courtesy of the food bank
leftovers for days
~cie~
Write a bird poem
note time
If all you wanted was the poem, you're done. See ya! Because now it’s time for the Power Haibun portion of the post. Buckle up, Bitches, ‘cause it’s gonna get wordy!
Every third Sunday, there is a food bank at the church in the little town where I live. There are two households in my house. My son and I make up one household and our unrelated housemate makes up the other. As Thanksgiving is coming up, each household got a turkey.
A giant turkey.
An eighteen-pound turkey.
I will be slow-roasting one of the turkeys all day and overnight starting at about noon tomorrow. Then early Thursday morning, my son and I will make the approximately 125-mile drive to my mother’s house. We will have a Thanksgiving lunch, and then my son and I will head home with a butt-ton of leftover turkey.
The food bank is a wonderful resource. I’ve heard people tell bad stories about food bank volunteers. One of my neighbors in the mobile home park where I used to live said that when she went to the food bank, one of the volunteers said to her: “why do you need to come here when you drive a car like that?”
She had a new car because her mother had given it to her.
The food bank where I live does not ask for proof of income. The food is surplus donated by grocery stores. It would be thrown out if it wasn’t given to people.
Today is Tuesday.
I went to the psychological evaluation part of my disability determination process.
I’ve been accused of being a space cadet, but it’s pretty certain that I don’t have dementia.
I do have depression and anxiety. I’ve had those pretty much my entire life. However, the reason I applied for disability is more because of my physical malfunctions than my psychological aberrations.
I have a lawyer, so I hope that will work in my favor. Because I’ve spent almost everything and am now worried about paying next month’s bills.
That’s 369 words
What follows is the CYA and promotional material that appears on every post.
Thanks for reading.
Have a happy Thanksgiving if you celebrate such.
If you don’t, have a good day either way.
This prosery was posted to these places:
http://poetryofthenetherworld.blogspot.com
https://lbry.tv/@poetryofthenetherworld:9
http://www.goodstufffromgrover.com
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
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Saturday, November 21, 2020
Tell Me
Free use image by ijmaki on Pixabay
tell me just what you think I have to do
to be worthy of being treated well
to receive at least common decency
rather than disdainful, insulting slurs
tell me how perfect you think I must be
before I am immune to hateful words
what I would have to become isn't real
what gives you the right to spew such venom?
tell me where you learned to hate so deep
was it from society or parents?
you think you're cool whenever you're cruel
cut out your own heart with each hateful word
~cie~
Write a "tell" poem
This poem was posted to these places:
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
This work is the intellectual property of Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld.
Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. LBRY’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on LBRY. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.
Sharing a link to the post is acceptable.
Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.
Want more telling poetry?
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Share my mood on LBRY.
LBRY is a decentralized content marketplace. I price the PDF versions of my work at approximately half of the Kindle price because I receive the entire amount rather than a royalty percentage.
Most of my work is free. A tip as small as 5 LBC (approximately $0.15) really helps, and it all goes to me.
You can get a free LBRY account through this link. You can earn LBC for viewing content on LBRY as well as from selling your content.
Friday, November 20, 2020
A Confession in Three Brief Reverse Haibuns for my Father
Image copyright Bill Dodd
college professor
he overthought everything
scrutinizing all
His thought process was on so many levels that he gave himself a phobia of heights.
dithering daughter
mind off in all directions
embarrassing girl
Random words in front of other random words create a random sentence.
despite his sharp mind
he thought himself a failure
he could not fix her
I come from a tribe of head-hunters, so I will never need a shrink.
Write a "confession" poem.
I was also inspired by the D'Verse Poets Jisei prompt. However, I won't include this poem in the blog hop because these are not actually Jisei, and because I have 12 lines total rather than 10.
My father will be 10 years departed from the world on the 28th of this month. I had a strained relationship with him. On one hand, he loved me. On the other hand, I was a great source of disappointment and distress for him. The only way our relationship would not have been strained is if I had been someone else. He did not know how to deal with a girl who was not meek and compliant and who was terribly troubled--as it turns out, mostly because of trauma inflicted on me by other people rather than because of an organic anomaly in my brain, which is what I believed for many years.
For many years, I thought that I had type 2 bipolar disorder and "borderline personality disorder." It is my strong opinion at this point that I do not. I stopped taking Lithium last year and have experienced no extreme mood swings. I do have a tendency to depression and anxiety. I have ADHD. But the thing that led to my extreme mood expressions when I was younger was not bipolar disorder, it was complex PTSD.
I have come to the opinion that "borderline personality disorder" is a bullshit sexist diagnosis. This diagnosis is overwhelmingly applied to girls and women. Looking at the histories of women with this diagnosis, they have all been traumatized, often sexually, and their trauma has been belittled and minimized.
I was not only bullied on a daily basis when I was growing up, but I was also sexually assaulted on more than one occasion. I came to realize that one event in particular that happened when I was 15 years old affected me much more than I allowed myself to believe it did. Looking back, I realize that I started acting out a lot following this event. If anyone cares to read my thoughts regarding this matter, they can be found here.
My father came from a different time with a different set of values, and he did not understand me, which is not to say that he didn't value me. He always helped me monetarily, but I always wished that he would actually hear me. As I got older, I tried to accept him as he was. I miss him and I hope he has found peace.
~cie~
This poem was posted to these places:
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
This work is the intellectual property of Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld.
Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. LBRY’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on LBRY. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.
Sharing a link to the post is acceptable.
Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.
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Tuesday, November 17, 2020
Colors of a Life in Shadow (Choka/Senryu)
Free use image by Stefan Keller on Pixabay
I used to be nice
when all things were possible
bright colors of life
in the blue hotel
porcelain skin fades to gray
shades block out the light
I am seen as mean
when I refuse advances
predatory men
my heart draws the shade
against games that lead to naught
I protect myself
~cie~
write a nice and/or mean poem
I used the Quadrille prompt from D'verse Poets, which was "Possibility." However, Quadrille poems are supposed to be 44 words. This poem is 53 words, and I didn't want to remove any of them because it would ruin the flow. So, I am saving it to share to the Weekly Scribblings prompt tomorrow instead. Now, that's using my noodle!
This poem was posted to these places:
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
This work is the intellectual property of Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld.
Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. LBRY’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on LBRY. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.
Sharing a link to the post is acceptable.
Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.
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LBRY is a decentralized content marketplace. I price the PDF versions of my work at approximately half of the Kindle price because I receive the entire amount rather than a royalty percentage.
Most of my work is free. A tip as small as 5 LBC (approximately $0.15) really helps, and it all goes to me.
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Monday, November 16, 2020
A Response
Image from Mindlovemisery's Sunday Writing Prompt
you ask, how are you coping?
and I say, well, hell
do you want me to be honest with you?
truth is, most people don't want the truth
they want to hear I'm doing fine
then they can go about their day
it's all a load of crap, you know
a lot of people aren't fine
but nobody really cares
that's why I never play along
with those games where you're supposed to repost
the well-meaning words claiming that someone's always there to care
but how am I supposed to believe that's true
when no-one ever even "likes" what I do?
these people on social media who cry the blues
whenever their post gets less than a hundred likes
make me laugh because mine don't even get one
fuck 'em all, I don't care anyway
so excuse me for being cynical
but I don't think that those of you posting that you care so much
really do in anything more than a vaguely caring for humanity sort of way
you really don't know me anyway
you ask me how are you coping?
the answer is, not well
but did you ask the welfare agencies for help?
you know...
the ones that really don't give a flying fuck about your welfare?
best you should die and decrease the surplus population
but we can't say that out loud
so let's post some more platitudes
about how someone's always there and always cares
except nobody really is
you ask me how I'm coping
now you know
I'm f.i.n.e.
fucked up
insecure
not okay
exhausted
I'm about done
just want to call it quits
but there's still a long road ahead
dragging the corpse of my sense of adventure
along on my aching back
~cie~
Write a response poem
I wrote a response to the Sunday Writing Prompt
This poem was posted to these places:
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
This work is the intellectual property of Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld.
Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. LBRY’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on LBRY. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.
Sharing a link to the post is acceptable.
Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.
Want more cynical free verse?
Get it here!
Share my mood on LBRY.
LBRY is a decentralized content marketplace. I price the PDF versions of my work at approximately half of the Kindle price because I receive the entire amount rather than a royalty percentage.
Most of my work is free. A tip as small as 5 LBC (approximately $0.15) really helps, and it all goes to me.
You can get a free LBRY account through this link. You can earn LBC for viewing content on LBRY as well as from selling your content.
Tuesday, November 10, 2020
Still Too Easy To Be Hard (Triple Tanka)
Free use image by Alexas Fotos on Pixabay
people say they care
'bout evil and injustice
the truth is they lie
they only care for victims
who are precious in some way
those deemed unpretty
who don't look good on posters
the unwanted ones
are easily lambasted
by the ones who claim to care
I have never seen
those who claim to care so much
defend the homely
the fat, disfigured, homeless
only receive scorn
~cie~
note the notes
(high probability of becoming sweary)
The poem was, in part, inspired by lyrics of the 1969 song "Easy to be Hard" by Three Dog Night.
I had a go at Anderson Cooper after his "obese turtle" remark.
When he said that he regretted the comment, I wrote him a letter.
Anderson Cooper reasoned that he made the "obese turtle" comment in the heat of the moment. So you may think that would be my last words on the subject, but Bitches, I ain't done yet.
Anderson Cooper says that he doesn't want to be the person who made that comment, and I'll take his word for it. But I would like to ask Anderson and anyone else who has ever said something like this in the heat of the moment:
Why is your "go-to" insult in the heat of the moment a negative crack about someone's body, and why do you think that fat is the very worst thing that you can call a person?
Is it really okay to have size shaming as your default, or do you need to check yourself and ask yourself a few pertinent questions?
Why do you think that fat people deserve constant mocking and derision?
Do you think that it's doing them one damn bit of good?
Or is it possible that you learned this prejudice a long time ago and it's time to stop being horrible?
Fat jokes aren't funny.
Fat isn't the worst thing a person can be.
With every awful thing tRump has done, you're defaulting to "he's fat?"
Weak sauce!
Check yourself.
I rarely post pictures of myself for obvious reasons.
A bad selfie (there is no other kind) that I threw some Pixlr effects at.
So, let's run down the list.
- Old (Middle-aged, anyway)
- Fat
- Ugly
But guess what--still doesn't deserve to be bullied and ridiculed.
I live by the rule of no body-shaming.
Not even once.
Not even tRump.
I call people out when I see them body-shaming because bullying--yes, including the bullying of people you find unattractive--ruins lives.
"BuT tHeIr HeAlTh!!111!!!" is not an excuse.
You know damn good and well it's never about their health.
By the way, I really don't want to receive comments like "you're not THAT fat. Trust me, I am THAT fat. And even if I wasn't, is it okay to be horrible to people who are THAT fat?"
I don't want any "but you could lose weight if you tried" bullshit. The answer is no, I can't. I tried to hate myself thin for 33 years and it didn't work. I'm done trying to hate myself thin. And even if I could, is it really okay to be telling people to try and manipulate their bodies in an attempt to become what you consider acceptable?
Please spare me the "you have a pretty face" comments. The secondary implication with those is "it's too bad about your disgustingly fat body."
I don't really want any comments about my looks, because my looks don't matter. I'm not fishing for compliments. I want people to hear my words.
Nobody deserves to be bullied for their appearance.
Not even the bullies.
Don't stoop to their level.
Fat bitch out.
This poem was posted to these places:
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
This work is the intellectual property of Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld.
Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. LBRY’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on LBRY. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.
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Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.
Want more fat, angry, feminist poetry?
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LBRY is a decentralized content marketplace. I price the PDF versions of my work at approximately half of the Kindle price because I receive the entire amount rather than a royalty percentage.
Most of my work is free. A tip as small as 5 LBC (approximately $0.15) really helps, and it all goes to me.
You can get a free LBRY account through this link. You can earn LBC for viewing content on LBRY as well as from selling your content.
Free use image from Annalise Art on Pixabay
Monday, November 9, 2020
Our Last Stand
Free use image by Peter H on Pixabay
When I was young, I believed that my dreams would come true eventually if I just believed hard enough. I believed that when I wished on a star that fairies or angels would work to make my wishes come true.
I believed that if I worked hard, I would be accepted into the Magical World of Shiny Happy People that lay beyond the Wall of Despair.
Then my body failed me.
My son and I moved away from the city to a town far from anywhere.
My Big Bright Dreams are dead and gone, but I believed that perhaps a few people would pay a few dollars to read my little stories.
My money is gone.
I had one last chance
to turn defeat to triumph
I failed our last stand
there is nothing behind the wall
except a space where the wind whistles
144 words
Prompts used:
D’Verse Poets: Write a piece of prose incorporating the given verse.
https://dversepoets.com/2020/11/09/of-houses-walls-and-whistling-winds/
The verse is:
“there is nothing behind the wall
except a space where the wind whistles”
from “Drawings By Children” by Lisel Mueller
What I wrote is a non-standard Haibun. For those who don’t know, a Haibun is a piece of prose followed by a Haiku. Mine is non-standard because I placed the two lines above at the end of the Haibun. I originally had them at the beginning of the piece, but I thought they worked better following the Senryu.
If this form goes utterly against the prompt, the hosts of the hop can feel free to remove my link. I won’t take it personally. I’m too damn tired.
What I wrote is not fiction. It is the Reader’s Digest Condensed Soup version of an entirely autobiographical situation. I would not recommend eating too much of this soup. It will give you heartburn and a bellyache.
The November PAD Chapbook Challenge prompt for today was to write an “our blank” poem. The title of the Haibun is “Our Last Stand,” and those words also appear in the Senryu portion following the prose.
https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/2020-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-9
The word of the day is Triumph, which also appears in the Senryu. I have to say that I feel anything but triumphant in this moment. In fact, I feel like I’m going to hurl.
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2020/11/09/triumph/
This poem was posted to these places:
http://poetryofthenetherworld.blogspot.com
https://lbry.tv/@poetryofthenetherworld:9
LBRY is a decentralized content marketplace. I price the PDF versions of my work at approximately half of the Kindle price because I receive the entire amount rather than a royalty percentage.
You can get a free LBRY account through this link. You can earn LBC for viewing content on LBRY as well as from selling your content.
https://lbry.tv/$/invite/@naughtynetherworldpress:d
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
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Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.
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Sunday, November 8, 2020
Come As You Are Party: An Open Letter to Anderson Cooper
Letters I’ve Written I: Anderson Cooper
8 November 2020
12:34 PM
Dear Mr. Cooper,
When you said these words:
“That is the president of the United States. That is the
most powerful person in the world. And we see him like an obese turtle on his
back flailing in the hot sun, realizing his time is over."
I saw fit to light you up because that is some rank-ass
bullshit.
tRump is an odious human being. His size is not what makes
him an odious human being. That fault lies in his behavior.
You have since issued an apology for those remarks, because,
as you said, “that is not the person that I really want to be.”
https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/anderson-cooper-expresses-regret-comparing-085928301.html
I genuinely hope that it is not, Sir, because there are
plenty of those kinds of people, and they do untold harm to innocent
individuals whose only “crime” is not measuring up to modern society’s arbitrary
standards of attractiveness.
I am a large person with multiple health issues, including
mobility issues. I move slowly. If I were to fall on my back in the hot sun, I
might very well resemble “an obese turtle flailing around on her back in the
hot sun, wondering if her time is over.”
Is it really okay for you to ridicule people like me?
I rather wonder if people were only incensed by tRump’s
mocking of the disabled reporter because the man is slim. Were he heavy, how
many of you would have said, “yeah, but tRump does have a point—look how fat he
is!”
I feel that it is as if you and I come from different
planets, Mr. Cooper.
You are wealthy, able-bodied, and most people looking at you
would consider you handsome.
My earnings put me below poverty level. I have multiple
disabilities, and I am considered ugly. Doubly so because I am heavy.
Fat is not the worst thing that a person can be, and that is
what your initial statement implies.
Fat is not a hallmark of laziness, slovenliness, or any other
negative thing. It is a neutral state. Why should people be treated abominably
because they have a surplus of adipose tissue?
You will never know what it is to have people yelling at you
that you are “eating yourself into an early grave,” even though your food
intake is no more than that of your smaller counterparts.
You will never know what it is to have people tell you that
you “just need to exercise more” as if you could just turn your mobility, pain,
and weakness off.
You will never know what it is to realize that the only
reason any time a man is propositioning you is because he thinks you’re desperate
enough to have sex with anybody who asks, or because he’s doing so on a dare.
You will never know what it is to have people not want to
hire you because they assume that fat people are “always taking time off”
because of their poor health. I am unable to work at a regular job anymore, but
I rarely called in sick during the last twelve years of my working life. I did
call in sick a lot previously, but it was not because I was fat. It was because
I had untreated PTSD and nowhere to turn for help.
While everyone was patting you on the back for your “obese
turtle” comment, I was seething.
You see, I may be a mean old bitch who doesn’t give a rip what
a rich pretty boy news anchor or his fans think of me now, but I still struggle
with the eating disorder that onset when I was twelve years old because I was
terrified of getting fat. I did everything I could not to get fat. I exercised
obsessively. I missed a lot of moments with my son when he was little because I
was at the gym for up to five hours a day trying to get ridiculously thin.
That gym put up “motivational” pictures of celebrities
talking about how they were up to a “gargantuan 132 pounds” before they
obsessively dieted and exercised themselves down to “a slim 102,” or something
equally unsustainable.
I weighed a good deal more than 132 pounds. If that was
gargantuan, what the hell was I?
I tried to hate myself thin for 33 years, Mr. Cooper. It
didn’t work. You see, my endocrine system conspired against me, starting with
my thyroid, which fried itself when I was in my early teens.
I worked for many years in very physical jobs taking care of
people or serving food and drinks while not taking care of myself.
My working life mostly ended in March 2017. I was working as
a home health nurse caring for medically fragile pediatric patients. I was
very, very sick with a bad respiratory infection, but the coordinator from the
agency that I worked for insisted that I go to work because I had contracted
the infection from the patient that I was working with so it was reasoned that
I could not re-infect that patient.
My diabetes was getting worse. I had not yet started using
insulin. My coordinator was always telling me that they were going to get rid
of the other nurse on the case, who had lupus, and replace her with me, because
she was always calling in. I didn’t want them to do that.
During the night, I fell into a very deep sleep. I do not
remember doing so. I would occasionally doze lightly for brief periods of times
during a night shift, but I was easily roused. That was not the case on this
occasion. The last time I looked at the clock on my laptop, it was 4:00.
I woke from complete oblivion to see the patient’s father
sitting on the edge of the patient’s bed glaring at me. It was 4:20 A.M. I
gathered my things and left. I was fired, which I expected would happen. The
patient’s mother lied and told the agency that I had been ordered to leave.
That is not what happened. The patient’s father told me that I could finish the
shift. I said that I did not think that would be a good idea and I terminated
the shift of my own accord.
At this point, I think that I may have lupus because of my
weakness and fatigue and the redness across my cheeks and the bridge of my
nose. It is like pulling teeth to get tested.
I tried to work in a long-term care situation after my last
case ended with a second homecare agency where I had been working. I only
lasted one night. I felt like I was going to pass out and I was confused by
tasks that I had handled easily during my clinicals, such as med passes and
treatments. The nursing staff was running from the time they arrived and never
had time for breaks. Because of my diabetes, I needed to be able to take breaks
to check my blood sugar and eat. This was not possible.
Mr. Cooper, it is not people like Donald tRump who get hurt
when people like you make cracks like the “obese turtle” remark. It is people
like me.
Seeing everyone laughing because someone like you implied
that fat is the worst thing that a person can be, and fat people are deserving
of derision and scorn is very painful.
My life is already difficult enough.
I try to take daily walks through the little town where I
live using my upright walker so I can walk for longer distances than I would be
able to if I were compensating for my spine problems. It is one of the poorest
towns in the state of Colorado. I would not want to live anywhere else. I do
not want to return to the Denver area. I want this to be where I live for the rest
of my life. Which, by the way, may be longer than you expect, given my
horrible, horrible fatness.
My very fat great grandmother, who had obvious endocrine
problems, lived to be 79. It was not any “disease of obesity” that killed her.
It was acute myelogenous leukemia, a disease that kills people of all sizes. In
fact, she lasted a good deal longer than a thin person would have. She went
from 300 pounds to 95 pounds in the space of a year. Then she died.
But hey, at least she cut a svelte figure in her casket, am
I right? She was no longer an obese turtle in the sun deserving of the scorn
and ridicule of elite news anchors and their cronies.
Mr. Cooper, I hope that you mean it when you say that you
don’t want to be the guy who made the “obese turtle” remark. I was extremely
disappointed when that guy surfaced, because, prior to that moment, I did not
think that you were him.
I’m willing to forgive, but I never forget. I have my eye on
you.
Acknowledgments
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