Welcome to Gaia! ::

{Inspired by Onion. RIP.
Although I did not know him personally, he was one of my inspirations when it came to the Op/l and poetry in general. Therefore, I hope to at least attempt to write a bit more this month -- regardless of whether or not it's "good" -- in honor of him.}

Nothing

My words are ink blots scattered
around a torn page, pretending
to stand for something
as they slowly clog the page
with words I've used a thousand times.

But you paint masterpieces
on a pearl white canvas.
Every sound is an image,
and together they roar
like white water rapids,
flowing forever.

Wishing on the Stars

Like a million eyes winking at me,
the gleaming stars start falling madly.
My wishes are magnets, attracting the glow
of all the fiery objects spiraling below.

A breeze infiltrates the silent air,
giving sound to the coming glare
like a million eyes winking at me.
The gleaming stars start falling madly

away from the vast stillness of space --
swiftly descending to fulfill the dreams
burning fiercely in my head. Sunbeams
are pouring down this windy place,
Like a million eyes winking at me;
the gleaming stars start falling madly.

My pen aches to touch the smooth,
pure face of paper, mixing ink
and tree -- not knowing what would
occur if my hand slipped
or fell into the puddle of words.

My wrists are stained with adulterous
scarlet: bleeding proof of betrayal
between pen and paper.
Water masks the affair.

Lightning
flashes the world
while showing everything
without a shred of decency...
the whore

{Now, for something completely different...maybe.}

Title of Poem

The opening lines of this poem
rope the reader in like Wonder
Woman and her lasso. This enjambment
is referring to the allusion and caesura
of a previous line. {This is a brief
parenthetical statement that lingers
on like a bad aftertaste, reminding
the reader that this poem is itself an allusion --
though tributary would be more appropriate --
to A Self-Referential Story by David Moser.}
That was a lie. And tributary was
a bad word to use. And that was not brief.
This is.

During this arbitrarily placed second verse
of the poem, the reader is pulled
at the heartstrings and other such cliches
that conjure up images of cringing worth.
This is like a metaphor, but it's only a
connection of dissimilar ideas: the ground and sky.
This is a filler line.
The purpose of this poor part is probably
obvious to many in that it is reminding
the reader of a previous moment when reminding
was used at the end of a previous line.
Also reminding of previous repetition.
And alliterative devices.
This is

an awkward transition into the third verse
that seems to be splotched on the surface
like bad acne on skin that just will not stop
like a bad simile that needs to just.
That
and
these
line ended abruptly. Period.

This fourth and final verse is
apologizing for the pointlessness
(like this parenthetical statement)
of the third verse. It is
also having self-doubt about
whether it is really part of a poem
or simply a byproduct of broken
lines and thoughts...a broken family.
That was deeper than the ocean.
That metaphor sucked worse than a vacuum cleaner.
Sorry.

The fourth verse lied.
This is the final verse.
It wraps all the imagery up
like a sweet-smelling pie.
Part of it wonders why the images
are disconnected bits of rubbish
piled together in a messy heap.

I lied.
This is the end.