Skip to main content

On Bad Days

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #186. Sorry. Probably best to skip this one.


On bad days I argue with the void: it is empty;
I call it full of nothing made pathological; therefore
it obsesses to possess mass, to be something
arguing with the universe but shouting in the mirror
black as starlit backdrop, as stars that fall
deeper and deeper into time until they 
drag everything into the void and are empty,
wrung out of needing to have an argument
and then we look at each other, deep in the black
fallen forever of our gaze. 

I wasn't going to post this week. But that probably doesn't matter...because here is a post. This has been a weird week and, in the midst of much more important things, my NaNo project just [temporarily] self-destructed. There will be a return to that project and I'm already sharpening the knives for it. Just need to let a little off-topic anger abate so that everyone doesn't get flamethrowers and a crazy 80's soundtrack. AAAAAAAAEEEEEIIIIIIIIIII! *explosion* *power chord* *secondary explosion* *high-pitched guitar phrase* *tertiary explosion* *power ballad with all the emotional range of a toddler dragged to just one more store extolling the glories of love and really rad highways* *silence* *whine of the worst love theme ever penned* *credits creep upward* **some of them catch fire** **some of them explode** **good lord, does that note ever end** **random catch phrase** **the rest of the credits are on fire** **it's fine** *the lights come up* *overstimulated audience stumbles toward the restrooms* *the credits are still burning* 

-- chrissa

Comments

  1. FireblossomNovember 13, 2021 at 5:05 PM

    Sounds like clinical depression described.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Carrie Van HornNovember 13, 2021 at 5:55 PM

    Even though this is an intense and painful write, it is excellent. I love the closing line too. I hope you do return to the Nano project and I would enjoy a great 80s soundtrack.

    ReplyDelete
  3. SunitaNovember 13, 2021 at 8:24 PM

    Your poem has so much to say, loneliness, helplessness and hollowness! A rant from the depth! Hope things work out for you, Chrissa. :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Gillena CoxNovember 14, 2021 at 5:11 AM

    "I call it full of nothing made pathological;"

    Indeed that's the void

    Happy Sunday

    Much💛love

    ReplyDelete
  5. hedgewitchNovember 14, 2021 at 7:28 AM

    I love the central pivot here, the constant argument with world and self, the void infinite around us, that is empty yet also reflective of every dark twist in our own brains. This is probably one of the poems I've seen from you that speaks the most to me. Really well done.

    ReplyDelete
  6. HelenNovember 14, 2021 at 8:04 AM

    Don’t know which I enjoyed more ~~ poem or notes!! Whichever, an amazing gift from you this morning!

    ReplyDelete
  7. Sherry Blue SkyNovember 14, 2021 at 9:37 AM

    Yes, I enjoyed the notes as much as the poem. The closing lines of your poem are especially potent,

    ReplyDelete
  8. qbitNovember 14, 2021 at 1:10 PM

    "it obsesses to possess mass" - Oooh!! fabulous. " stars that fall deeper and deeper into time" is great too! I love all the sound mass here, the syllables like stars falling into black holes.

    ReplyDelete
  9. ✿November 14, 2021 at 5:16 PM

    “black as starlit backdrop” ... nice

    “wrung out of needing to have an argument” ... I am so there.

    ReplyDelete
  10. JimNovember 14, 2021 at 6:15 PM

    I hope soon you will be writing again.
    BTW, is "the credits are still burning" good or bad?
    ..

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. C. SandlinNovember 15, 2021 at 5:45 AM

      By the time I got there, I think it was the right way to leave them, so not bad. Just on fire. :)

      Delete
  11. purplepeninportland.comNovember 19, 2021 at 5:55 PM

    A dark, but deserving poem. I wish you better times, Chrissa.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

To Blue Fields Far Below

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #228 , The Fashionable Twenties.  A sycamore fairy sits crosslegged in the road Dragons swim toward smooth hills above the storms Vines embrace the telephone poles  Someone washed the blue skies and she knows  It's time to dare the salty foam It's time to wade through the eternal fields' folds And gather golden apples for home.  Hoping this finds you with space to daydream and a good book in which to wander. Working on turning last week's prompt into a longer piece, as I found myself intrigued by the idea of tea in the garden as combat. Social situations are not my forte. As it's still Spider September, there will be a chihuahua-sized jumping spider that is none too happy about anything but hunting squirrels (that's for you, Mom).  -- Chrissa
6 comments
Read more

Once Upon a Future Past

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #204 . It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening ran behind me dragons, demons, and the sleeping world; afraid to turn, to wake me. Power needs its horror stories, its ghosts. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening followed close; a fantasy of goodness, where the gold is always covering bones. Power needs its fairy tales, its witches. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening treads my hem, like an army from the dragon's teeth and all the lies therein. -- Chrissa
14 comments
Read more

Flagrant

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #217. Come be part of the conflagration. :)  Oh, they called the mob to celebrate But only the fire heard They called the mass to congregate But only the dry grass bowed A conflagration Called to prayer Hungry for light Hungry for air Oh, they called the mob celebrate Wearing flames in their hair They called the mass to congregate Faceless in the burning air.  Greetings and salutations. I'm not sure what to say--we're not celebrating the 4th this year (not that I'm prepared to cede one holiday to the authoritarian idiots in charge of our state, but our grass is still dry from the heat and we have a dog terrified of fireworks...so we're celebrating by bunkering down and watching Howling 2  at the gleefully deranged suggestion of my sibling) and otherwise I've turned our dead corn plants into the basis for this year's Camp NaNo project...it's turning into a weird year, the kind of year where I'm reading more horror than norma...
7 comments
Read more