New poem: Clocktower Blitz
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@ -13,17 +13,17 @@ e4006c3f1c26e38a645da116ce2770e3 mm_tac.epub
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108
feed.xml
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feed.xml
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@ -9,6 +9,61 @@
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<name>Vane Vander</name>
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<email>vanevander@mayvaneday.org</email>
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</author>
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<entry>
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<title>Clocktower Blitz</title>
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<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/c/clocktower.txt" />
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<id>https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/c/clocktower.txt</id>
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<published>2022-04-06</published>
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<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
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<pre>
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Please, my love, come home unharmed.
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It's been almost a month since I
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found you injured, limping, on a farm
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half-familiar, glowing hearth.
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We've been here before- or, at least, I have,
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wandering in sprawling fields
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trying to find homebound path.
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Because isn't that
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what this is all about?
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Trying to find the way back home
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despite all those who've declared
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themselves roadblocks, obstacles.
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Each of us condemned to roam,
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sometimes aimless, usually on our own,
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no one to ask us how we fare.
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The bloodlust of my youth has faded away.
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I've grown sick of conflict, of battles, of war.
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How can anyone think cold-blooded murder holds glamour?
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I'm sick as an invalid
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two steps in the grave
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of every moment worrying if you're okay.
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"If there was a path
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out of this heartbreak
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without suffering any pain,
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believe me,
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Lethe,
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I'd take it in a single breath."
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I'd rather die
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than live a thousand lives
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safe but absent from your light.
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But there's nothing I can do
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as you ascend the campus clock tower
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with staff in hand,
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ready and prepared to make a last stand.
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"I need you to know I feel the same.
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Truth be told, I always have.
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I've got a bad limp, but if I get my way,
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you won't have to wait
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much longer."
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</pre>
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</article>]]>
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</summary>
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</entry>
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<entry>
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<title>Stealing Time</title>
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@ -261,59 +316,6 @@ I, bond-breaking blade?
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and in so many worlds away.
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There are enough armchair Christs.
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Stop self-inflicting pain.*
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</pre>
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</article>]]>
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</summary>
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</entry>
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<entry>
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<title>Driven To Death</title>
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<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/d/driven.txt" />
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<id>https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/d/driven.txt</id>
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<published>2022-03-09</published>
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<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
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<pre>
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"What's an operating system?"
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Whether they were being serious, I could never tell,
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but the question always hung over me like death's bell.
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And although camp is now disbanded and dead,
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still rings in a disused hall in my head
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the words penned on whiteboard in striking red:
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while all other girls were so much praise shot
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about their skills, their quests, their help,
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only written for me: "I guess she smiles a lot."
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And when I complained that I had put in
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more effort but barely anything received,
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Mom marched me to apologize
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even though in my eyes
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I had committed no crime.
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Just be happy with what you've got,
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with the crumbs we've thrown your way;
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never demand the more you're due,
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just smile and bear the pain.
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Just smile and bear the pain
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of being a prototype, forging the way
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to brothers to be done right, to be done at all,
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listened to, heard, given right to complain,
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and you yourself cast aside
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to either be shown up or prepared to die.
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I've failed the test on three separate times,
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so I know for sure I can't legally drive.
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If I need to get somewhere, either I catch a ride,
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call a bus, or gather my breath
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and bike.
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But you're driving me to death.
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You're running me raw.
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Soon, I think, there'll be nothing at all.
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Will you love me then, Mother, with Cheshire smile?
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A lot of what's praised
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and naught else remains.
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</pre>
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</article>]]>
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</summary>
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@ -36,7 +36,7 @@
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</div>
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<hr>
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<div class="box">
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<h3>Announcement Box</h3>
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<h3>Announcement Box</h3><!-- https://stackoverflow.com/questions/57907979/javascript-shuffle-table-rows -->
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<ul>
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<li>2022-03-10: <div class="lesbian">Hello, Kiwi Farms!</div> I'm glad you like Let's Decentralize! Please leave me alone.</li>
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<li>2022-02-14: <div class="lesbian">YEEHAW! I MADE SOME MODS!! <a class="bruh" href="https://deadendshrine.online/mods/">[LOOK AT THEM]</a></div></li>
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@ -0,0 +1,52 @@
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Clocktower Blitz
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2022-04-06
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***
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Please, my love, come home unharmed.
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It's been almost a month since I
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found you injured, limping, on a farm
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half-familiar, glowing hearth.
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We've been here before- or, at least, I have,
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wandering in sprawling fields
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trying to find homebound path.
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Because isn't that
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what this is all about?
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Trying to find the way back home
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despite all those who've declared
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themselves roadblocks, obstacles.
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Each of us condemned to roam,
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sometimes aimless, usually on our own,
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no one to ask us how we fare.
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The bloodlust of my youth has faded away.
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I've grown sick of conflict, of battles, of war.
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How can anyone think cold-blooded murder holds glamour?
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I'm sick as an invalid
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two steps in the grave
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of every moment worrying if you're okay.
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"If there was a path
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out of this heartbreak
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without suffering any pain,
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believe me,
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Lethe,
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I'd take it in a single breath."
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I'd rather die
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than live a thousand lives
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safe but absent from your light.
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But there's nothing I can do
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as you ascend the campus clock tower
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with staff in hand,
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ready and prepared to make a last stand.
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"I need you to know I feel the same.
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Truth be told, I always have.
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I've got a bad limp, but if I get my way,
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you won't have to wait
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much longer."
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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@ -41,6 +41,7 @@
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├── <a href="./c/">c</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./c/carmine.txt">carmine.txt</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./c/choco.txt">choco.txt</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./c/clocktower.txt">clocktower.txt</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./c/comer-beber.txt">comer-beber.txt</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./c/confectionery-contempt.txt">confectionery-contempt.txt</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./c/corner-witch-2.txt">corner-witch-2.txt</a><br>
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@ -170,7 +171,7 @@
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└── <a href="./w/wme.txt">wme.txt</a><br>
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<br><br><p>
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22 directories, 120 files
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22 directories, 121 files
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</p>
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<hr>
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