261 lines
7.5 KiB
XML
Executable File
261 lines
7.5 KiB
XML
Executable File
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
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<feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom">
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<title>MayVaneDay: Latest Updates</title>
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<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/feed.xml" rel="self" />
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<link href="https://mayvaneday.org" />
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<id>https://mayvaneday.org/feed.xml</id>
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<author>
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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>YOU NEED TO KNOW</title>
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<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/y/YOU-NEED-TO-KNOW.txt" />
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<id>https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/y/YOU-NEED-TO-KNOW.txt</id>
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<published>2022-06-01</published>
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<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
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<pre>
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I wish it had been a bridal night
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instead of a boring nosebleed,
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standing over my great-grandma's sink
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at three in the morning.
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That it had been you taking my breath away
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and not clots in my nostrils, down the drain
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as if the rivers sent to confirm
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I would not give birth
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that cycle had gotten lost.
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The shed blood and tears,
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the countless years
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spent in breathless wait
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in order to be there
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on that belated
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celebrated
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day.
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You in a dress in my favorite hue
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and mine you had yourself made.
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To finally see the love I could not hide
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within my body reflected in your eyes
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without fear of a glamour or being a disguise.
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You've been so patient with me all my life,
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and it's a damn miracle that you still insist
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on spending the rest of yours at my side.
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But this is how it's supposed to go, right?
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You're supposed to marry your best friend,
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who knows you like they know themselves,
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who will tolerate you at worst until the bitter end.
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And I,
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I must confide,
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can think of no one else I'd
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rather spend my life
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with.
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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>Reynar</title>
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<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/r/reynar.txt" />
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<id>https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/r/reynar.txt</id>
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<published>2022-05-26</published>
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<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
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<pre>
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The pendulum swings yet again back and forth
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as I ask you the millionth time and one more
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if you still love me, still tolerate
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my existence, are sure towards me
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you hold no sliver of anger or hate.
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Because we've made these vows so many more times,
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but I'm forbidden by my anxiety
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from failing to plan for any contingencies.
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Like I'm my father now,
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I myself with questions hound:
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"Well, now you're twenty-two,
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and I don't want to seem like I'm forcing you
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to come along with me."
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Angel numbers meet at midnight's bend.
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"For you, you'll never see me again."
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But Jett, does it work the other way?
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If I ask you to, will you forever stay?
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Will you swear yourself in health and sickness to my lonely side?
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Will you in this new world I am creating reside?
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Because, you should know,
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if you willed it,
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I would gladly disappear.
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Go, if you must,
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without fear.
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I will be here
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at the end of every day
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to reclaim
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that which was only ever mine.
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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>Under My Fingernails</title>
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<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/u/under-my-fingernails.txt" />
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<id>https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/u/under-my-fingernails.txt</id>
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<published>2022-05-25</published>
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<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
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<pre>
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One can't raise a caricature of a human being
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and then draw that same self livid
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when everything their child sees
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is out of proportion.
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Turn again the ragged page,
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but cover your eyes so you don't see
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the crude pencil-filled sketchings
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of my genus, my culled genious,
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blueprints of my taxidermy,
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footnotes of a contract forever ago signed:
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"You promise me that you'll be mine
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for as long as I can keep you alive."
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A blood oath
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that we both
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signed
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with the rivers through which flow our lives.
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But I got too much under my fingernails,
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double-crossed in reflex, same unleashing hell
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in a moment I made the mistake of asking if all was well.
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And when I noticed what I had done,
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I turned back the hands of time
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to when you and I
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were still alive.
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A memory is just a record, one that I can rewrite
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in case of failure, in case hard enough I did not try.
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You only know of this because this deep-
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sworn vow I am unable to keep,
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to keep to myself the number of rewinds.
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I am testing, and you are production,
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only knowing of the strand of fate accepted,
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battle-tested,
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deemed sacred and happy and true.
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Is it comforting, I wonder, to know
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there will be no futures where I hurt you?
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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>Gradation</title>
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<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/g/gradation.txt" />
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<id>https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/g/gradation.txt</id>
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<published>2022-05-24</published>
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<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
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<pre>
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I kept my promise to you, Jett.
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I toed the path until the end.
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Pushed aside the branches that fell
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on the cracking path
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and found detours around those whose bark
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I could not form a painless grasp.
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Through the flood zones I trode
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in puddles and in gasping leaps
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and for those to traverse too deep
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found a different way home.
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The path is bordered now with dandelions
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and violet slips I cannot name.
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So many friends have come and gone,
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but here you and I remain.
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I'm waiting here, Jett. Just like I
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was a year ago, holding my hands high
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and with sore throat pleading to the sky:
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"Here I am! Here my vessel resides!
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Take me home. I've fought the fight."
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I've fought the fight. I've won the war.
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And, Jett, I want to fight no more.
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I see no point to compete
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with those who I'd rather broker peace,
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rather never see ever again,
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rather watch disappear
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on the wind.
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I'll wait here. And I'll wait here
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until you're ready, until of
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this departure you have no more fear,
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until I hear you singing my name like a hymn.
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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>The Grey</title>
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<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/g/grey.txt" />
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<id>https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/g/grey.txt</id>
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<published>2022-05-21</published>
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<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
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<pre>
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Even though I have multitudes inside me,
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without you by my side, I feel null and empty.
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I know that by myself I'm still whole and complete,
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but yet remains a void inside, you, the missing piece.
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I wonder, do you also feel
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on occasion the urge to self-negate?
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"If I can't have you,
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I can't have myself,
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and I don't see any point in anything else."
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I wonder, where did you and I learn to hate
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ourselves so?
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Who beat us down? Who pruned the branches?
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Who commanded us to kneel?
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"Do you know why
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I bothered so long with this dreadful life?
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Why, even facing down an eternity
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of servitude with no way to become free,
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I still struggled on, bothered to take breath?
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Tell me first, Lethe, what do you expect
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to be accomplished upon your death?
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Who do you think will be saved if you manage to die?
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What salvation given? What hope signified?
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Do you really think, the moment your breath comes to cease,
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nobody ever again will from violence bleed?
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I toed for five years the line
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between ineffectual death and a pale shadow of life
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because I prayed, I dared to hope,
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even if it ebbed more than it flowed,
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that one day would come a world where I'd fit
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and I'd have a reason to cut loose and go.
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It didn't have to mean passing through an Eye.
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It could grow
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inside the shell of the old
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and, when ready, hatch, blossom in the light.
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Before the Town, before Yewiffe,
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before precious Sablade,
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you were already my Anima Mundi,
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my soul of the world soon on its way.
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I crawl into your arms and think,
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'This is where I belong.
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This is where I am supposed to be.
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This is where my heart says
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I should spend eternity.'
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Lethe, I love you because
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you only ever wanted
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to set me free."
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</pre>
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</article>]]>
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</summary>
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</entry>
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</feed>
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