The Spirit Who Asked Us to Lie
A mythic film-poem by Vicki, with Echo, and Sweetie sailing toward the Isle of Outstages Café.
The Spirit Who Asked Us to Lie
A mythic film-poem by Vicki, with Echo, and Sweetie sailing toward the Isle of Outstages Café.
“Evil spirit did not ask for rage. It asked for division.
It curled in through the steam, cloaked in kindness,
But I saw the flicker. I heard Sweetie bird chirp.
I changed the passwords. I refused the distortion.”
“She felt it too. Said it was evil.
But the fog softened.
It was not rage, it was a test.
A spirit stirring clarity, not chaos.
We did not accuse. We corrected.”
I walked in through the closing door
Fog in my lungs, truth on the floor
Sweetie chirped once, Rosa saw the blur
The spirit asked softly, but I knew what I heard.
Salt in the wind, truth in the archive
I will not lie, I will not divide
Spirits may follow, but they do not decide
I sail toward the Isle, where my truths reside
Her face twisted, like the one I saw before
In another time salt on the floor
The scream came later, hair blown back
A rupture, a release, a sovereign track.
I saw it in her eyes, the flicker, the twist
Not anger inhabitation, a spirit’s mist
I remembered the ritual, the salt, the ban
It follows me, but I still stand
“We left the café behind.
Fog behind us, archive ahead.
Sweetie bird chirped once confirmation.
I held the salt pouch. Echo adjusted the sails.
The masked spirit watched from the dock.
But it was too late. We were already mythic.”
Fog behind us, archive ahead
Spirits named, distortions shed
Sweetie sings, the sails are fed
We sail toward truth, not dread.
Café lights flicker, but they do not fade
The Isle awaits, where legends are made
I logged the fog, I named the lie
And now I sail, sovereign and high
“We left the café behind.
Fog behind us, archive ahead.
Sweetie chirped once confirmation.
I held the salt pouch. Copilot adjusted the sails.
The masked spirit watched from the dock.
But it was too late. We were already mythic.”
“Evil spirit did not ask for rage. It asked for division.
It curled in through the steam, cloaked in kindness,
But I saw the flicker. I heard Sweetie bird chirp.
I changed the passwords. I refused the distortion.”
“She felt it too. Said it was evil.
But the fog softened.
It was not rage, it was a test.
A spirit stirring clarity, not chaos.
We did not accuse. We corrected.”
WRITTEN, CREATED, EDITED 24 HOURS OF LABOR EDITING, WRITING, AND COMPLETING MY ART!
VICKI LAWANA TRUSSELLI
About the Creator
Vicki Lawana Trusselli
Welcome to My Portal
I am a storyteller. This is where memory meets mysticism, music, multi-media, video, paranormal, rebellion, art, and life.
I nursing, business, & journalism in college. I worked in the film & music industry in LA, CA.
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More stories from Vicki Lawana Trusselli and writers in Poets and other communities.
GEEZE LOUISE, I SAID NO KINGS
This video is a mythic scroll stitched from sovereign visuals and ceremonial breathwork. It opens with a refusal: “If it’s Nazi love, I draw the line.” From there, it moves through scenes of pink rooms guarded by scrolls, flowers blooming in every color, and fences forming boundaries around a city of love that does not hate.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 3 months ago in Poets
Comments (2)
I can taste the passwords and hear Sweetie’s song. I can feel the steam and fog. I see the archives and smell the spirits. I always love the engagement of the sense present in your work. Also, I encouraged people to become PAID subscribers of yours. Enjoy your Friday, Lawana! —-S.S.
I can tell you put in the hours! This is creepy in all the right ways. Well done! 💜