nonconformist in comfort
another one, anyone?
because my brain is on fire
I will write another dire
tire mire dictum
although
I fall on my face from exhaustion
I’m on my deathbed
one foot in the grave
I reach for your hand
and it’s not there
comfortin’ feelin’
it’s lost at this point
I’m cleanin’
free white spaces
between the brightness of my screen
to not fill them with words
again
as I don’t want to be sprinkled with shame
from not winnin’ again
you don’t have to look
there is nothin’ comfortable here
only brash
a few tears mixed with the marsh
that bloody challenge was there
for over a month
how come?
so much time to write poems?
I usually conceive them in less than a minute
and the next moment
they’re all just there
shinin’ on the page
exposin’ butts and faces
to the light
but will anyone see them there?
I doubt it
another poet
died like a comet
flashed for a moment
to return to the start
of this journey
but where is the beginnin’
if there is no end
I think I will stay
here for a while
to count all adverse actions
I will draw conclusions
for the future
and I’ll start all over again
is it not what I was doin’
all my life?
nonconformist in comfort – that’s me
say hi if I remind you of someone
*
September – October 2022
*
As this Challenge came to its comfortable end, this poem was supposed to be my last entry, Number 28th. Unfortunately, I missed the deadline, the last two poems were left without submitting it. It's just a satire, I probably wouldn't even have a chance to fight for any little runner thing. I wrote it anyway, so I’m publishing it.
***
Thank you for reading!
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...
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Comments (2)
HI! This piece is trying to be my favourite! I can almost feel it trying to be free from the low misty layer of underlying sadness that flirts at the edges of a lot of your work.
Well, you did invite to say hi! You remind me of an amazing mentor I once had. I didn't like her at first, because she was teaching me. But after I had really begun to learn a lot from her I totally fell in love. Of course, it wasn't proper. She was married and a decade ahead of me. And I was just some punk kid with a crush. But she taught me the value of getting to know someone and loving them for who they are, and desiring them from there. Not just desiring her for her body. Or to use her for my carnal desires. And despite how much I tried, she stayed loyal to her husband 100%. Not because she loved him, I'm pretty sure she hated him and planned on leaving him. She stayed loyal to her word, is what I should say more-so. She taught me how to speak properly to a woman, with respect, and never with swear words, no matter how upset I get. And I was always trying to show off to her. I was so immature. She taught me that instead of showing off, I could be humble. And keep the things I'm proud of a secret and to myself, and it would never be about approval from anyone for my pride. You remind me of her. but that's not why I love reading your work so much. I love your work because it opens me up to a whole world of sensory and emotion and vulnerability I never felt before. And I'm pretty sure you're not racist. She was racist against black guys. I never stood a chance. I'm glad you're not like that.