Research Yourself, Time-Spent Lover. Trapped in the World, Beep-Boop Our Youth: Cinquain Stories

Cinquain Poetry

Photo Credit: Tonya’s Treats for Teachers / Found On: The Aurora

[Throwback Thursday — originally published November 2013]

Research
is not a four
letter word. Lies don’t come
with a disclaimer. Educate
yourself.

Time spent
in your absence
has come to mean more than
our emotionless linguistics,
lover.

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Hello, Honey

[Throwback Thursday — Originally published November 2013]

Writer's Block

Photo credit: nofilmschool.com / Article Author: Justin Morrow

As you determine which impeccable stratagem to implement on your unworthy adversary, I inhabit my side of the bed–clumsily, dastardly. Your prowess puts me to shame.

The clickity-clack of my extremities hammering faded vowels and consonants and semicolons and commas, in juxtapose with your fingers fluidly gliding over the lustrous and vibrant X Y B A, is abasing.

I seek affirmation so I pursue an exchange of vocables, but you’ve just been shot. There is scarlet splatter and ammunition debris and the structure harboring you is crumbling.

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Stipulations

father daughter dance

Photo credit: Defining Wonderland

[Throwback Thursday — originally published November 2013]

You’re the proud
kind, the epiphany type.
The unconditional love,
with stipulations. The
conspiracy theory believers,
the simple yet complicated
minds we strive to mesmerize,

                         until we
                         don’t.

And you belittle
our uncontrollable
love, with your “down
at the courthouse in your
wedding gowns, fucking
                         freaks”
                         mockery.

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Substance Be Damned

[Throwback Thursday — Originally published November, 2013]

My brain is fuzzy and my child is sleeping and middle-aged celebrities are busting myths on TV. I’m supposed to be writing about something substantial; my past my future my present; something real.

I stare at the screen for an unknown amount of moments until my phone bing-chime-beeps out the alert that someone has texted me. I instinctively get angry assuming it’s going to be a past drug dealer or buyer or someone else with nothing substantial to say. And then my computer bing-chime-beeps and I fear checking whatever Facebook notification awaits me because I don’t think I can handle another person with nothing substantial to say.

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Wait

[Throwback Thursday — Originally published November, 2013]

Avery,

              I love you. I am so sorry I couldn’t be there for you and the children on Christmas. I am so sorry all of this happened. I hope you are OK. Not being able to talk to you since I’ve been here has heightened my anxiety and they’ve kept me in medical because of it. This is all a blur and I’m trying to pay attention to what is happening but I just don’t understand.
            They say I stabbed a woman. They say her blood was on my pants and that they have even more evidence. They say I could get twenty years. They say I’m unremoreseful and evil. They keep saying things but they make no sense.
            They’re moving me to a different block and are taking my belongings. Send money if you can, I have nothing.

               Always,
                    Liam 

Wait

Photo Credit: layoutsparks.com

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