Broken pencil poetry. The wall

The wall
19.08.2023


He was laying
Brick upon brick,
In smooth rows,
One on top of the other.
"What are you building?"
I asked him, intrigued.
"You'll see," he winked at me.
So I went away.

When I returned,
The bricks had formed
A wall.
Tall, wide,
And without doors or windows.
And on top,
There he was, still putting
Brick upon brick,
The sun shining behind him.
"Is it a wall?"
"Mm-hm."
"But why?"
But he gave no response,
Just winked again,
Playfully.
So I went away.

The next time,
The wall was as wide as the horizon
And as tall as the sun at noon,
But he was nowhere to be seen.
I knocked on a brick.
"Yeees?" came the answer.
"Whom are you keeping out?"
He laughed, then said
"Perhaps you might ask instead,
Whom am I keeping inside?"
He laughed again.
I couldn't see it,
But I'm fairly sure
He just winked at me again.

Bitesize fiction. The girl in black

 

evxlutionrace · the girl in black

 

"Come back for me!" I heard her call as I was running away.

I didn't turn around. I knew she would be there, patiently waiting for me. But she could be my undoing. I had to get away!

The portal wasn't going to be open for much longer. I could see it in front of me, getting closer with each step I took, but still so far away. Would I make it in time? It was already starting to blur around the edges, rippling like the wavelets of a lake. Soon, it would close.

A quick, sharp jab and I was knocked off my feet and onto the ground. What?

"I said, come back for me!"

Her voice was shrill and inhuman. It couldn't be... Had she already been corrupted?

I lifted my eyes to look at her. She stood there, towering tall, taller than before and it seemed like she was elongating, up towards the sky. Oh no...

"Why did you run? Why did you leave me? Don't you know I need you?" she screamed like a banshee.

I got up quickly, glancing at the portal. It was already narrowing, like a pair of eyelids closing. My last chance was fading away. I had to run now, or else I'd miss it! My foot stepped towards it, but her yell cut across the air like a knife, halting me.

"Don't even think it! You belong here. With me!"

I breathed slowly and looked up at her. Into her eyes. The girl in black. With black, abyss eyes.

She looked back at me. No... She was looking through me. She was no longer capable of seeing anymore. She knew only rage and it was blinding her.

"Come here," I whispered to her softly.

She frowned.

"Come here and talk to me," I insisted. "Come into my arms."

I lifted both arms towards her. For a long moment, she didn't react in any way. Then I saw something break in her, a tension releasing. She crumpled to the ground.

I knelt beside her. She was small, smaller than before. She was shivering, but her black eyes now held a soul again. She looked at me through her tears.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "The thought of losing you made me lose my mind... I'm so sorry."

"I know. Don't worry. We all break sometimes." I closed my eyes and held her in my arms as she wept quietly. Her body convulsed with tears. We sat like that for a while, until the trembling stopped and the tears flowed no more.

She looked up at me.

"Thank you," she said simply. Then she looked around. "Oh... but the portal. It's gone."

"Yeah..."

She turned towards me again. "Look into my eyes."

I did. Her black eyes, dark as midnight on a cloudy sky. Their darkness seemed to glow and grow, expanding out of their rims.

"What is this?"

But she didn't reply. Those eyes were no longer eyes, they were a rippling dark pool, overflowing over her entire being. Soon, there was nothing left. Nothing left of the girl in black. Instead, there was a portal.

I screamed.

There was no answer, just the portal's surface, rippling from the edges towards the centre. She was gone. She had given herself away so I could escape.

So I could move on.

I caressed the pitch black surface gently and then I stepped through.

 

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PS: I have added the song that inspired this piece. I might do that again in the future, if it feels relevant.

Broken pencil poetry. Dear Suzie

This will be a poem I wrote many years ago, in high school. I have recovered it while rummaging through my memories. It's a bit dark, be warned. Well, you know, metaphors...

Actually, I recall there was a second part to this. Some of my very old poems are still stuck on my old PC and laptop and I have yet to recover them...

*******

Dear Suzie,

How are you doing?
Me? I'm not so great,
mommy beat me up today.
But breakfast was good,
got a big plate of gravel
and downed it with some water.
I even asked for a second serving
and she gave me all the bowl,
so nice of her! I said thank-you
and left my teeth on my plate
to be given to the poor.

But the past weeks have been so bad!
They made me go out in the streets
and beg for love with a broken cup in hand.
Everyone kept passing by, not looking,
not turning round, not even once,
and one who did smile down at me
proved out to be a liar;
he broke my cup against the floor.

Next I went out by the corner,
auntie's fiddle in my hand
and I played till crack of day,
with a shard of the old cup beside me.
I was no longer begging,
but now trying to win their hearts
with music made by me and others alike,
with lively dancing tunes
and heart-breaking wails of the fiddle's strings.
I played and played until my ears turned deaf,
yet all I ever got from it
was a sideways scornful look
and them spitting in my cup,
old piece of an old useless cup.

I then turned to cold dark alleys
that hid inside them lonely strangers
with hollowed eyes and ragged clothes,
pale skin and alluring legs.
I went among them and they made me one of theirs,
taught me how to look for men
who took us with them and again I tried
to earn a piece of warmth from them,
but the coins they paid me were cold
so I took my broken cup and left.

I even covered my face with a cloth
and entered banks and markets
and menaced them with my broken cup
to give me their hidden loved possessions
and feelings money could still buy,
but they just laughed again
and let the men with sirens take me away,
clutching the same old cup in my shaking hand.

They took me to a dark place,
a room with walls of steel,
they gave me a name tag and told me to behave.
The ones around me simply stared,
too lost in their own sins to see my plead.
When in the end they did,
they simply forced themselves upon me
and I froze; their hearts were so cold...
I learnt from them, though, the art
of taking what I want by force,
but those I would abuse were silent,
like stones being kicked about,
they screamed, but not really quite.
I was released from prison and my evil,
I even hit one of my past aggressors
with the sharp shard in my hand,
the cup had already been marred.

You see now, dear Suzie, why I write you this...
I wonder if even you understand
what I want to tell you, my only confidante.
This morning was sunny, it was a perfect day,
I took a swig from daddy's rum
and took my eye out. You said it looked so nice
and that you liked what you saw in it.
After I finish this, I will hang myself
from the ceiling of my room.
That's why I won't be there giving you the eye
in a small green jar labelled "peas",
that will be my little dog on your threshold.
I'm not giving you the broken cup, though...
Because it's been so marred and dirtied
broken in so many places and I also fear
that you will add to the cracks
if I ever offered it to you.

Yours,
the boy with a broken cup.

Oppression

I have been writing. I have been. Only I can't publish any of it, because the present is still here and hasn't yet gone to the past. And there are things too personal to talk about with anyone. I can't.

Sometimes music hurts me. Most of the time I waste time making time get stuck between running and staying. In my mind there is a perpetual twilight, filled with shadows of the past and of the future.

Why? It's a stupid selfish question, but it keeps running through my mind. Why is this happening to me? I used to have such beautiful dreams and hopes for my future. I've tried so hard to be the perfect person, to justify my claim for happiness.

But it keeps getting postponed. And the things that come instead are painful.

I guess maybe in the end I don't deserve to be selfish. Not even a little bit.