When one begins to lose themselves in
a world of black, when the words of light
fade into the soft blanket of numbness, the
taste of one's life is gone. The sight of one’s
imagination deteriorates into nothing. This
loss of one’s true self is saddening. When
the found become lost, when the light
becomes dark, and the world goes grey,
is the time when life ceases to exist.
The cries of trees, the sorrow of the
flowers, and the feeling of
hopelessness inside the world is
shown as their colors become grey.
The pain of one’s loss becomes everything.
The struggles for freedom become smaller,
and the feeling of nothing fills one’s heart.
Gone from our world, and to never be
At the end of an election,
there is a beginning
To decide if those who lose
can still start winning
Kennedy beat me in ‘60
I tried to regain my footing quickly
But two years later it was fate or
I am destined to taste failure
In ‘62, I told the press that I was through,
From there my spite only grew and grew.
So I went on hiatus
And came back ‘68
All it took was a little help
From those lovely Southern states
Now that I’ve made my ascension
I’ll be tested on retention,
I want to keep the Oval Office
Even by means that border lawless.
Regardless of the stakes
I’ll keep my reputation flawless.
Others may hate you, but can that be what consumes you?
I’ve had my chance to lose
But now there’s no excuse,
I have every right to choose
If the Nixon name will be abused
At the end of an election
A new chapter begins
The people have spoken
On who’ll lose and who wins
The CRP is the key to victory
Some may call it slippery
I see it as a defense of liberty
I’m convinced that there is a faction and a party against me
I concocted this plan as one of the global elite
I’d rather not go back to the other side of that street
I didn’t push the button,
This break in was quite sudden.
I have a positive deniability
I’ve had elsewhere to look
But most of all:
I am not a crook
But I will not reveal the information that we took.
There are 1,025,109.8
words that work just fine to create
Any poem which purpose is to
Say anything but how I feel for you.
The word love comes close to defining us, I suppose.
But I would never just give you a simple rose.
Instead, a whole garden!
To help our fragile relationship harden
Into something like precious gold
With nothing more than words until now untold.
However, there are 22 words I know
That like the sun will help our blooming garden grow;
For which there is not a single word on it’s own,
That will translate these words alone.
Each word, though foreign and untranslatable,
Is like you: perfect, beautiful, unexplainable.
When you first caught my eye,
And shared with me the Yagan Mamihlapinatapai (mah-mee-lah-pin-yah-tah-pie),
There was a wordless, meaningful look between us,
But we were both too afraid to find anything discuss.
Upon meeting you I felt the Koi No Yokan from the Japanese,
And with a sudden knowledge and sense of ease
I knew we were destined to fall in love,
And I felt like I was floating far above.
But for reasons I might never know,
All you felt for me was Gigil (which by the way is Filipino).
And you had the urge to squeeze me tight,
For you thought me cute (much to my spite).
And oh! Do I wish
That the same French that taught me how to kiss,
When he made me weak in the knees,
Hadn’t also taught me La douleur exquise.
And because I wanted someone I couldn’t have,
My poor heart broke in half.
I felt German Fernweh for your embrace,
And all I wanted was a taste.
For I felt homesick for a place I had never been,
But too late I caught this feeling from Berlin.
But alas! Like the previously mentioned Japanese,
We had Yuanfen from the Chinese.
“A relationship by fate or destiny.”
Just like it was foretold, we were meant to be.
And when we talked we did so with Grecian Meraki,
A wonderful word to live by.
Doing something with soul, creativity, or love,
Describes us perfectly, my dove.
And the Norwegians showed me Forelsket (fo-rels-ket),
A euphoric feeling that made me lept.
One, that can only come when I am falling fast
A feeling which shall never pass.
And while falling asleep, again the French gave me the chance,
To think of conversations long since passed.
With L’esprit d’escalier,
Everything I should have said suddenly became clear
But hah! It was your turn now to feel my pain
As you waited for me to come to your home again.
You felt the heat of Inuit Iktsuarpok,
So I hurried there while the fire burned hot.
We enjoyed Dutch Queesting,
Which made our garden grow like Spring.
All you wanted was some pillow talk,
As we sat in your bed telling stories I never forgot.
And in that moment I knew the Turkish Black Love, Kara sevda,
And I could feel my blinding love coursing through me like my last hurrah.
When we kissed you opened my heart to Kilig in Tagalog,
And I felt a heady-sublime rush like our love was a drug.
I confess to Czech Prozvonit (or maybe it was Spanish dar un toque),
When I called your phone with a single ring and then without delay
Hung up so that you would call back,
If only to save me a little cash.
When I thought of the future, I felt Arabic Ya’aburnee,
And hoped that you would outlive me
If only to spare me the pain
Of living in a world without you where our garden only rains.
Eventually the Indian Boro language taught me Onsra,
And I knew with bittersweet certainty that our love
Just wasn’t one that could last,
A thought that made my heart beat fast.
When you left, I was hit with Portuguese Saudade,
And as you slipped away
I was struck with a haunting desire for what was gone;
But I knew that nothing could right this wrong.
With the time alone with your thoughts, you were hit with Hindu Viraag,
Which made your addicted heart feel as if going stag.
The emotional pain of being separated from me,
Wishing you’d taken an arrow to the knee
And held onto me.
We tried Italian Cavoli riscaldato,
But when we used to have such a subtle vibrato,
This loud banging of restarting what had once failed
Made it clear that our relationship had derailed.
Bantu made me Ilunga (i-Loon-Gah),
Someone willing to forgive the one who left my heart raw
The first time, tolerate them the second,
But a third time will not be forgiven
Eventually I found Russian Razbliuto (raz-blee-oo-toe),
The sentimental feeling towards someone you used to know,
Someone you knew,
Someone you used to love but no longer do.
And now I know of Japanese Wabi-Sabi,
A way to live and focus on finding beauty
Within the imperfections of life
Looking past the strife
And accepting the peace of the
Natural cycle of growth and decay.
Not all love lasts
And some lovers pass
But 22 words for love taught me how to love and love again
And how to know when
To move on and find another.
These 22 words have made me stronger,
Helped me rise.
But never fear,
For I will always love you, my dear.
Out behind the house, when a
boy, in the unlikely bullseye
of a forty foot lot, that arid square
picketed of neighbor-sized planks
and beyond – barbecues and
swingsets, lawn chairs and
scattered toys – I, shrouded in sheer
plastic raincoat, with hoodstrings
pulled tight, on those rare
rained down afternoons when
the islands of grass gave way to
the spate, crouched in the eye of
the bills, and the worry, and the
need, nodded skyward and let
each globe wash
across the perfect circle
of my face.
Remember when you first met me? I think it was in the early year, somewhere between January and March. I was in MAP.
It was still for you. You had just stumbled into your mother but she ran from you. That was when I called you.
You appeared in the realm, bewildered after recently just talking to Caila who had told you that someone had asked for you and wanted a long session of daily meetings. When I saw you, I was in awe upon seeing my main character.
You asked me for my name, and I told you. You asked me how I knew you… and I was honest with you. Probably shouldn’t have been; I told you that I had created you, but I needed your help.
You did what any sensible character would do – you ran. I cried out for you to wait as I tried to follow you, but I was no match for you, and soon fell behind.
What you didn’t know was that I went to Caila, later that night, and I talked with her. That same night you went to talk with her. “I don’t want to help this person.” You called me a psycho.
Caila told you the truth. That I had created all of you guys and you said exactly what many others would later think hard about. How could a 13 year old create us?”
You then stormed out. But the next day, she made you come again. And she told you to not judge me before “I walk two moons in their moccasins.” So you came back, (with the force of Caila). When I saw you, I stood up from the tree stump that I was sitting on, and you immediately slapped me. You made it clear that you wanted to be done with the task quickly.
You didn’t know what you were expected to do. Normally, it’s a regular task: retrieve, send, solve, observe, or fight something. But this time was different. I tried to make it clear that what I was asking for was something that would take a long time to solve. Advice. Maybe that’s why you got so sick. It was because you don’t like to be tied down for long periods of time.
You helped me. You watched and observed, and you showed me new viewpoints. You helped me figure things out and you helped me calm down from stress and anxiety. You were someone I went to when I needed to talk. Maybe that’s why I can’t remember opening up much to anybody, with the exception of Yukino. You helped me imagine the things I’ve always dreamed of doing. You encouraged and advised me, during meets and time trials in cross country and track. You helped me plan for everything without getting worked up. But then you got sick.
None of us realized it until months later. What had started out as a cooperative and compatible relationship turned into bickering, quick-to-fight, frenemy relationship. Instead of helping me and advising me, you sneered and satirized my flaws, driving me to anger. We fought and jeered at each other for months, trying to gain the upper-side in the relationship. We would sneak up on each other, or throw punches and wrestle each other to the ground.
Whenever they said that we bickered like a married couple, we would both argue, trying to show that it wasn’t the case.
It would take both Hailey and Caila to stop us. Hailey would body check me, and Caila would body check you. She knew how to handle your power levels and center of balance better than anyone else.
Remember that one time when I was about to destroy a tree and you tried body checking me? You didn’t realize how light I was, so when you intersected my movement, I went flying off the cliff that was near us. Hailey says you had cursed and launched yourself off the cliff in order to catch me.
After that event, you started to teach me different kinds of magic, and how to use items to defend myself. You were showing off, but I was okay with that. I was still intrigued with you, and I didn’t have anything better to show you up with.
I think it was at the end of February when I brought Luke into the realm. For two Earth months, he didn’t know of our existence – just the she-wolf and her newborn pups. We had made an agreement that she would watch him and make sure that he was safe from the monsters and stayed within the boundaries that we had set up.
However, I think we were supposed to help her more often with the pups and babysit them… but we didn’t; she started getting annoyed with us and became less careful with watching him to make sure that he didn’t see us.
One day, there was a forest fire (not started by any of us, thankfully), and I had to save him. You didn’t trust him, which I now understand. However, you were still forced to take action when I leapt into the fray. You just watched us and made sure we made it out.
Apparently he was still conscious when you appeared, yelling at me about jumping into something dangerous the way I did.
We both noticed that he was awake at the same time. I opened my mouth to try to break the awkwardness but fell silent, unsure of what to say. You acted quicker, passing your finger over his temple and flooding it with a pressure that knocked him out. I knew what you had just done and the way you did it, so I started yelling at you. We argued about whether you should do that to a mortal. It is dangerous. You could damage the brain if you’re not careful with the amount of pressure that you use.
Later that night we had a discussion about what to do. I told you that I would clear his memory of the event and return him to “safe” forest. However, I wasn’t as skilled as you, and so I didn’t do the best job. All he remembered of that night was the silhouette of my frame against the fire and the sound of our voices. From then on, he knew that there were others in the forest.
The next day, he snuck out from her den and went looking for us. We were playing catch through the forest, unaware that we were barely missing him by the demie.
Two days later, we were tussling by the river, obstreperous in our actions. He was eating some meat that she had caught, when he heard a ringing laugh that reverberated through the air. Later, we would realize that all the living things in my realm had heard it, some following the sound to its source; this would explain our later problems with monsters. He came into the clearing as were wrestling and laughing.
You looked up, and I followed. An awkward silence followed the spontaneous moment. Then you, rather rudely, blurted out “I thought you wiped his memory?!”
“I did,” I cried out, thinking about Luke’s position and how awkward it must be to hear that someone wiped his memory. You spat back.
“Clearly not well enough. What did you even do?”
“I- hh- I- I did exactly what you do!” I shouted. You didn’t have to ask because you knew that I knew what you did. I’d been watching you since 7th grade.
“Clearly not well enough.”
Luke cut in: “Umm… Who are you guys?”
“Hi…” I say shyly. “I am Joanna and,” glancing at Akira, “this is Akira.”
“Who was the person last night…”
“Oh,” blushing, I reply. “That was me.”
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