Come As You Are Party: Me in 3D with Four Poems

It's all a bit too much, I think. Too much going on, not enough of it good. I don't know if I gave up a long time ago or if it just came to a point where I was so jaded that nothing really mattered. I'm honestly not sure why I bother most of the time, but still I do. I may just be too stupid to have figured out that whatever I may do or not, it makes no difference.

I read a poem that made me think about the days of youth, and this was my reply to it:

It was a simpler time when it was fun to find discarded cans and trade them for a few cents to buy a treat. Today would have been my father's 84th birthday. Sometimes I wish I could go back to one of those moments when he was still here and there were possibilities.

I read another poem with which I resonated, and this was my reply:

I resonate with this. Sadly, I think society has learned nothing from the past six months.

To a poem trying to convince me that I'm a masterpiece (which I most assuredly do not think I am) I had this to say:

I'm generally of the opinion that I'm a mistake that was cobbled together out of spare parts. Still, I don't think this gives anyone the right to treat me or anyone else unkindly just because they don't find us appealing. This is why I'm not nice or compliant and why I bite.

In reply to a poem about the manner in which the British won their conquests in territories such as Malaya and Borneo while the United States lost ours in Vietnam, I had this to say:

I believe that your weapons were much better than ours. As a U.S. citizen, I also feel it is my duty to apologize for the spray-tanned horse's ass that is our so-called leader and I am grateful for those British citizens who fly the tRump baby balloon whenever he pays a visit to your country.

Too deflated to bother being ornery today

the canopy bed

Copyright Jeff Wood on Pixabay

https://pixabay.com/photos/bed-canopy-wild-natural-wilderness-5065872/

in                                                        my                                    childhoood

room                                           there was a                                canopy bed

and I  dreamed many big dreams of many big things, believing that one day

they  would all come true, but in reality, big dreams lead to massive crashes

my dreams                                                                                     my hopes

came crashing                                                                              down hard

nobody heard                                                                              the sound of

my defeat                                                                                        except me

nobody gave                                                                                a flying damn

I was just                                                                                      a stupid girl

being a massive                                                                            drama queen

one day the                                                                                  canopy was

taken down                                                                                    and it was

never put                                                                                          back up

the little girl with a head full of dreams too massive for this world was dead

I buried her but the dreams continued to haunt me as I tried hard to conform

to a world that wasn't made for, that was filled with disdain for the likes of me

I no longer have a pretty canopy bed upon which to lay my ugly head, I said

to dream that I will wake up pretty and be the toast of the city, it's time to let

those dreams                                                                                  fall dead

don't look                                                                                       back now

your hope                                                                                      died somehow

it was                                                                                             too big

for this                                                                                            little world

now bury                                                                                        your dreams

and step                                                                                          in time

it's time                                                                                          to conform

you foolish                                                                                     little girl

notes

I'm not sure this looks like a canopy bed. I tried. I am dreadful at making shape poems.

I biffed the prompts yesterday (I did the "change" poem two days in a row), so today I'm doing two April PAD challenge prompts: massive and don't look back. The NaPoWriMo prompt was to describe a bedroom from my past.

And now for the inevitable blah-blah.

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Fat Friday: Tone Deaf

Don't you just hate it when you've managed to start pulling yourself out of the psychological sewer of despair and had the personal fortitude to back away from the suicide booth although your body is doing horrible shit up to and including activity which inflicts literal cognitive changes, and it would be easier just to die and get it over with, and along comes a tone-deaf concern troll who proceeds to unleash a coronal mass ejection of NOPE all over your post? I know I do.

Would you, reading this paragraph:

I have to fight all the negative messages about my body several times a day every day and probably will for the rest of my life. Forget "loving" my body. I would be happy to be able to just ACCEPT my damn body and move on. But jerks who begin sentences with "it's okay to love your body, but..." do their level best every day to make sure that I will never even be allowed to just accept mine.

Decide to argue that the most relevant thing the person who wrote that paragraph can do for their health is to fall back into the clutches of diet culture and begin trying to hate themselves thin again. I know I...

MOST CERTAINLY WOULD NOT DO ANYTHING OF THE KIND!

I mean...

What the actual fuck.

Concern trolls always think that the rules don't apply to their sage wisdom.

I don't know, y'all. Sometimes I think I'm just done.

Image by John Hain from Pixabay

OctPoWriMo 2017: Day 18: Everyone Went On Eating

My life is a mess

She said, grieving her lost dreams

Feeling dead inside

At the family table

Everyone went on eating

~Cie~

Note:

This is autobiographical.

I didn't feel up to trying the Palindrome poem today and thought it would be most effective to keep my work brief.