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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Stabber

Stabber

Photo credit: Pax Arcana

[Throwback Thursday — originally published May 2013]

“Stabber’s reign of terror
ends,” bold and loud and dark
front-page worthy words announce,
boasting to the timid, frightened
audience that the system
has finally done its job.

It hasn’t.

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Backwards

(Throwback Thursday — Originally posted May 2013)

It started out fine,
for me. I guess
he saw it differently.

I guess when your first
words to someone are “I
don’t give a fuck
about your mommy issues,”

when they’re drunk
and pouring their heart out,

things have to take a wrong
turn somewhere along the line.

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