So I just wrote this spoken word poem today like an hour ago and I feel like it has the potential to actually sound like a slam poem. I’m afraid I’m going to wake up tomorrow morning and re-read it and end up hating it. (It’s about religion so it might be a touchy subject, but yeah.)(And it’s kinda long)
I Am Loki
I am no hero
Nor saint nor savior nor strong-arm
Just a God of Mischief
I am Loki.
Lying is what I call a game
Trouble is my second name
Weaving webs of whispers and words
To create a work of deception
A masterpiece of manipulation
I am Loki.
Raised in Asgard for hundreds of years
Odin as my father and Thor as my brother
Only to find out my very life was a lie
I am not Asgardian
I am a Frost Giant
I am Loki.
Not a son of Odin, but a son of Laufey
A king with a heart of ice
Not a care for a runt like me
I felt unwanted and unloved
Scorned by a world that favors brawn over brains
Overshadowed by an oaf of a “brother”
But no longer!
I am Loki.
Cape of dark green, a royal flow of envy
Helm dipped in gold and steeped with horns, a symbol of power
One day they will know
One day they will see
Who I am truly meant to be
I am Loki.
My brother banished, my father asleep
I have taken the staff and throne
I now rule Asgard alone
But the truth…
Telling the truth is no easy feat for me
But I will tell you now
I never wanted it, you see
I only wanted to be Thor’s equal
To be loved by my father
To prove I am a worthy son
But what do they know?
All they see is a sneaky tyrant
I am Loki.
Banished from Asgard
By the might of Thor’s hammer
And the scorn of Odin
The humiliation, the sting of defeat
Still pains me like searing heat
If I cannot rule Asgard
Then why not Earth?
I may be down, but I will strike back hard
I am Loki.
Those pathetic mortals won’t know what hit them
One day they will know
One day they will see
Just how strong of a king I can be
I am Loki!
I don’t really write poems, but yeah…gotta get my Loki feels out somehow.
DATES
A date means forgetting the food.
A date means spilling food.
A date means being bit by bugs.
A date means it being colder than expected.
A date means getting beat up cause the movie is scary.
A date means not being able to finish the movie
A date means a show of manly force.
A date means having nowhere to sleep.
Love mean all these things can happen and it be a perfect date.
Anti-Suicidal ironically so
I fondly look forward to a random car t-boning me and killing me instantly. My assailant’s motor being my savior from this on going hamster wheel. More often than not, i hope a deer jumps out in front of me, gets hit killing me instantly, and then prances off majestically. Don’t want to hurt the poor thing however. I hope that maybe today i will finally stop escaping my shadowy sickle bearing friend as i doze off at the wheel for what seems like the hundredth time as i drive off of a bridge. This world bores me. Same routine day in day out never making any progress. Just walking in a fog and not stopping purely from fear of doing so. Driven only by the thought to keep living. Knowing that the though is false I still cling to it as though it were a religion. I do not want to kill myself mind. That would be selfish and really just seem like it wasn’t part of the script. No. I’m just ready to die is all.
A summary of my blog in word mush.
Art, in all its glorious forms, Psychedelics such as LSD and DMT and of course my beloved THC, rants about my generation and my aphorisms and heart felt poetry, pictures of me, with my best friend Tyler, and Alex, my baby. The doors live gifs and Jim Morrison antics caught on camera, his leather pants a symbol found inside his sexual prowls a trademark to his classic saunter and his Greek god looks baring down on you all the way down to the end of my endless scroll. Harry potter quotes and the symbol of the deathly hallows, real life suicide letters and non edited beautiful landscapes. Blasphemy up to your neck, vinyls spinning round and round, peaceful graveyards and my dream woman Otep Shamayas strong artcore metal lyrics pushing your fears down to the ground. Flowers flowers flowers, more flowers and blood. This is my tumblr, this is my world, with my good name trampled in the mud.
Day three of my 30 day writing challenge is late, but I had a full day so I’m excused.
Short but bittersweet.
You don’t smile anymore and it hurts to see.
You try to hide it but it’s obvious to me.
Sure you pretend to grin
but I can see within
and I wonder how this can be
You once were a beacon of joy and peace
With just a short chat you put my fears at ease
I wish I could repair
All the rips and tears
free your gentle heart from this disease
You mean worlds to me my dearest friend
I hope that soon you’ll be on the mend
and before I go
you ought to know
I will care for you til the very end
(love you bro, hope to hear from you sometime. I don’t know what’s going on but I will be there for you should you ever need me.)
((I know you’ll probably never read this, but i tagged you in it anyway because it’s for you.))
Come Live Inside My Head...
Come live inside my head, I’m baking bread for you, making it feel like home like your mother knew she should
You’re a fat girl but I still like you and they make you feel nasty for it. But you can live here if you want and eat all my bad qualities so people will like me too
You don’t have to cover up here and nobody’s going to spill your blood in the dirt, no man gonna make you hurt, and tell you to keep the secrets on the sheets hidden under your bed
They told you ‘you are fat so you should feel lucky that I find you attractive”. Isn’t it funny someone can take something you didn’t know you had?
Yes, you can live here in my head where you don’t have to cry, because I’ll be here tuck you in bed and turn down the lights
You’re a cry baby but I still like you and I won’t beat you if you want more food, if you’re hungry because you cant fill that empty spot inside
I’ll feed you, just come live inside my head, and I won’t fence you in. You can leave when you’re ready, or until you burst out of your skin
Come live inside my head, here they won’t look at you with disgust, for the size of your bust or the size of your gut, because I’m baking bread for you making it feel like home like your family never could.
