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New poem: Reynar

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Lethe Beltane 2022-05-26 18:50:46 +00:00
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@ -59,6 +59,7 @@ done
<li>fur suit</li>
<li>sites like natural spanking</li>
<li>fucking dead woman</li>
<li>i like killing</li>
<li>one night stand stories</li>
</ul>
<p>The results of my research were... disheartening, to say the least.</p>

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@ -1,5 +1,6 @@
# MayVaneDay ASS (https://tilde.town/~dzwdz/ass/) feed
2022-05-26 https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/r/reynar.txt Reynar
2022-05-25 https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/u/under-my-fingernails.txt Under My Fingernails
2022-05-24 https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/g/gradation.txt Gradation
2022-05-21 https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/g/grey.txt The Grey

111
feed.xml
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<name>Vane Vander</name>
<email>vanevander@mayvaneday.org</email>
</author>
<entry>
<title>Reynar</title>
<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/r/reynar.txt" />
<id>https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/r/reynar.txt</id>
<published>2022-05-26</published>
<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
<pre>
The pendulum swings yet again back and forth
as I ask you the millionth time and one more
if you still love me, still tolerate
my existence, are sure towards me
you hold no sliver of anger or hate.
Because we've made these vows so many more times,
but I'm forbidden by my anxiety
from failing to plan for any contingencies.
Like I'm my father now,
I myself with questions hound:
"Well, now you're twenty-two,
and I don't want to seem like I'm forcing you
to come along with me."
Angel numbers meet at midnight's bend.
"For you, you'll never see me again."
But Jett, does it work the other way?
If I ask you to, will you forever stay?
Will you swear yourself in health and sickness to my lonely side?
Will you in this new world I am creating reside?
Because, you should know,
if you willed it,
I would gladly disappear.
Go, if you must,
without fear.
I will be here
at the end of every day
to reclaim
that which was only ever mine.
</pre>
</article>]]>
</summary>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>Under My Fingernails</title>
<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/u/under-my-fingernails.txt" />
@ -188,72 +233,6 @@ against an ashen gray sky,
in the first blooms and blossoms
of my garden in birthing spring:
if it was good and beautiful, I saw you in everything.
</pre>
</article>]]>
</summary>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>Tissue Sample</title>
<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/t/tissue.txt" />
<id>https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/t/tissue.txt</id>
<published>2022-05-19</published>
<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
<pre>
How do I come to terms
with the fact that I will die?
How do I look my mother in the eyes
and say, "You won't have me
for that much more time?"
I look in your eyes,
and I see a flame
that burns so bright,
that signals something
arriving
just over the horizon.
I expected to be dying by now,
strength fleeing from my limbs,
lungs crushed by anxiety
like the world itself was closing in.
I got all my homework done early
in February
even though graduation was three
months away, not knowing
what state I would be in,
six months from onset
being the low end.
But except for the sores that pulse
in movement's fury and sleeptime's lull,
I'm just as healthy as ever.
I'm searching my body for every possible sign
that the end is coming, that looms my demise.
And I am in pain, I will admit,
but not nearly enough to classify myself as sick.
I'm in a science classroom, with scalpel prodding myself.
Clean up the experiment, jar me up, return me to the shelf
in tanager's formaldehyde, amber sleep, sanctioned suicide.
You haven't really died until you've returned to the earth,
I think, given back the dust in your bones
to this planet that insists it be your home.
You haven't really disappeared
until your body has dispersed so much
that nobody can point at the ground and say,
"The person I love now rests here."
This vessel, I hope, will not be preserved
in a morgue, under a man's care, final horror.
My body was never ever really mine
in this life.
Mother still sometimes cries
that I'm not a doll anymore,
won't wear dresses anymore.
Will she keep me around when my body moves nevermore,
preserved, plasticized,
mannequin most lifelike?
Deny me Velouria's embrace one last time?
</pre>
</article>]]>
</summary>

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@ -115,9 +115,11 @@
=> p/pressed.txt pressed flower petals
=> p/psa.txt Public Disservice Announcement
=> p/passer.txt Passer
## R
=> r/reakirante.txt reakirante
=> r/regnant.txt regnant
=> r/reynar.txt Reynar
=> r/rondiro.txt rondiro de lukso
=> r/rugxa.txt rugxa kresto
=> r/ridge.txt The Ridge

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@ -120,6 +120,7 @@ iP
iR
0reakirante r/reakirante.txt
0regnant r/regnant.txt
0Reynar r/reynar.txt
0rondiro de lukso r/rondiro.txt
0rugxa kresto r/rugxa.txt
0The Ridge r/ridge.txt

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@ -137,6 +137,7 @@
├── <a href="./r/">r</a><br>
│   ├── <a href="./r/reakirante.txt">reakirante.txt</a><br>
│   ├── <a href="./r/regnant.txt">regnant.txt</a><br>
│   ├── <a href="./r/reynar.txt">reynar.txt</a><br>
│   ├── <a href="./r/ridge.txt">ridge.txt</a><br>
│   ├── <a href="./r/rondiro.txt">rondiro.txt</a><br>
│   └── <a href="./r/rugxa.txt">rugxa.txt</a><br>
@ -185,7 +186,7 @@
</p>
<p>
22 directories, 130 files
22 directories, 131 files
<br><br>
</p>
<hr>

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poetry/r/reynar.txt Normal file
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Reynar
2022-05-26
***
The pendulum swings yet again back and forth
as I ask you the millionth time and one more
if you still love me, still tolerate
my existence, are sure towards me
you hold no sliver of anger or hate.
Because we've made these vows so many more times,
but I'm forbidden by my anxiety
from failing to plan for any contingencies.
Like I'm my father now,
I myself with questions hound:
"Well, now you're twenty-two,
and I don't want to seem like I'm forcing you
to come along with me."
Angel numbers meet at midnight's bend.
"For you, you'll never see me again."
But Jett, does it work the other way?
If I ask you to, will you forever stay?
Will you swear yourself in health and sickness to my lonely side?
Will you in this new world I am creating reside?
Because, you should know,
if you willed it,
I would gladly disappear.
Go, if you must,
without fear.
I will be here
at the end of every day
to reclaim
that which was only ever mine.
***
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander