GUEST POST // An Invite by KT

I am single
I have a female roommate
she’s 20, almost 21
yup, half my age
oh my!
but, it’s not like that
she’s an amazing Hispanic woman
a great human
and sometimes I give her a kiss on the cheek
cause she’s cool
and, sometimes, I forget to eat
because I’m a little passionate
and she’s an amazing chef
and I am grateful for that
because I suck at it

I am retired from dating and sex
(although, I have references that will tell you I am very good at it)
but, love is bigger than you and your partner and family and tribe
and, it’s even bigger than your sex drive
wait… what?
it’s true
so, no, I won’t date you
because sex is an expectation that impedes love
(I know, right? I mean, when has sex caused a fight?
never, right?)
life is very light when sex isn’t your drive
so, if I flirt with you
or, write a poem about you
(because I derive inspiration from humans, imagine that?)
it is to put a smile on your face
I know, no expectations…
holy fuck! that’s not real…
it’s misleading
well, go tell your mother and father and your god
that I made you smile
(what an ass I am, I know)
and when you’re done
tell them I said hi because I don’t mind
making them smile too
I make a better friend than a boyfriend
(and that’s just me being real honest with me)

but, do come over
I’ll make you pancakes with peanut butter
and maple syrup on top
and we can talk

I don’t give a fuck about your past
your religion
your sexual orientation
your binary finary winary things
your skin color
I don’t care if you’re fat or maimed
I don’t care about your honey boo boo nada nada
I can deal with anything
except a lie
that I despise
and that will get you
no pancakes!
(scary, huh? these threats I make…)

come
on over
let’s chat
have a pancake and smile
I’ll even sing to you because
I’m crazy like that

I can’t do it all
I’ve left a map
and it’s free
when’s the last time your preacher offered that?
no collection plate
just you and your heartbeat
and I’ll still write
because I’m compelled to
but, you have some reading to do
(imagine that, me ask you to learn?)
start at the beginning
finding your heartbeat takes a little time
it took me over a year
but, it’s amazing once you find it
it’s worth the investment (in you, no less)
I promise
and you can pray all the same
just spend some time
feeling your heartbeat as well

and,
if you wish to question my philosophy
well, please do
I’m not sacred
are you?
and if I’m wrong
I’ll admit it because
I’m not committed to being right, like you
I’m committed to learning
in order
to better the human race

pancakes, anyone?

 

by KT
© All rights reserved 2019

Testing, Part #2 (Fragment #015)

It was like talking to a brick wall. I elevated my voice slightly.

“Hey, four-eyes!”

Yuck. Not only is he blind, he’s deaf too… I was considering poking him with a ruler when I heard a semi-cough right above me. Again.

Any questions, young lady?”

“No, Sir.”

Question 2a: Define a metrical foot used in the following poem.

He had forty-two boxes, all carefully packed,
With his name painted clearly on each:
But, since he omitted to mention the fact,
They were all left behind on the beach.

The loss of his clothes hardly mattered, because
He had seven coats on when he came,
With three pair of boots—but the worst of it was,
He had wholly forgotten his name.

He would answer to “Hi!” or to any loud cry,
Such as “Fry me!” or “Fritter my wig!”
To “What-you-may-call-um!” or “What-was-his-name!”
But especially “Thing-um-a-jig!”

1) Trochee
2) Iamb
3) Anapaest
4) Dactyl

Question 3a: What isn’t a forme fixe?

1) Qasida
2) Glosa
3) Sequence
4) Tanaga

I looked around helplessly. No help was within reach. Well… if plan A doesn’t work out then I have to use plan B. So, I gave a shit about that, and began to select answers at random.

The blank space below question 1a was very much in evidence, and my inner perfectionist demanded satisfaction. I knew it was better not to argue as this thought would be like a pebble in my shoe—it would hinder and annoy. I wrote something like, “Prompt at five o’clock, I busted a snaplock, and walked around town in a candy-striped nightgown.”

Then I hesitated over where an adverb of time should be placed in an English sentence. Damn. At the start? At the end? Without philosophizing, I repeated the first line at the end. If need be, I could say that I was nervous and forgot to cross out the wrong line.

With a feeling of satisfaction at a job well done, I turned in my paper and left the amphitheater. I felt a roaring hunger.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017

Between edges

A road… just two edges and infinity between them. To step on the edge. To diverge from the road. To live, as if you’re immortal, is one edge. To live, as if your death is inevitable, is the other edge.

Edges aren’t the road.

Let yourself be immortal. Walking on the edge. Stepping over the edge. Forget miserable time. Look at yourself without the world. Your every step, your every gesture, your every thought… immortality.

Edges aren’t the road.

Let yourself be mortal. Walking on the edge. Stepping over the edge. Take your final step. Look at the world without you. Without your every step, without your every gesture, without your every thought… mortality.

Edges aren’t the road.

You don’t like edges. They’re dangerous. But if you deny edges… you deny the road. You learnt immortality. You learnt mortality.

You learnt… edges aren’t the road.

A road… just two edges and infinity between them. You go ahead. Infinity is under your feet. You took your road.

A courageous alive creature.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015