There is a heartbeat under my heartbeat,
the one that was already going
before I had a body to carry it in.
I have called it wrong names.
Anxiety, when it was only aliveness.
Loneliness, when it was only spaciousness
with no one to explain itself to.
It never needed permission.
It didn't wait for me to become someone
before it started shining,
the way a window doesn't wait
for the house to be finished
to let in light.
I have spent so long trying to be smaller,
easier to hold,
and this whole time
there was something in me
that was already free
of every wall I built to contain it.
If I am honest, on my most tired night,
what I want isn't answers.
It's this, to feel that I am not separate
from the thing that made the stars
and also made the way light
moves through a glass of water at 2 a.m.
I don't think delight has to be earned.
I think it's underneath me
the way the ground is underneath me,
holding me up whether I notice it or not.
I did not arrive from nowhere.
Something is still arriving through me,
right now, as this breath, this pulse,
this quiet, stubborn light
that was never asking my permission to exist.
A heartbeat pulsating as living light
free from each and every limitation
I Am that dwelling in unbound delight
the source wherefrom arises creation"
Before a single name was given to the dark,
before time learned to count the stars,
a quiet held the void.
Not empty—just waiting.
Then something shifted in the cold—
a sudden warmth, a pulse,
not made of flesh or bone,
but humming like quiet lightning.
I am not the cage that holds my ribs,
nor the dust beneath my feet.
I slip past every fence we build out of fear,
spilling over the edges of what is known.
I sit inside the stillness,
unmoved by the rush of hours.
There is a stillness here that drinks from joy,
a deep, steady burning that never goes out.
From this stillness, everything begins:
the breath that moves the leaves,
the fire in the core of the earth,
the thought that becomes a world.
I am the hand that holds it all,
and the space where it floats freely.
Minichu poem
Based off The Mirror and the Mist
Old
Shell,
Cold
Spell.
No
More,
Open
Door.
Wild
Gaze,
Deep
Maze.
Just
Soul,
Now
Whole.
I fear me.
I fear you.
I fear the silence of the pews.
I fear the smell of incense,
burning me with sandalwood wounds.
I fear that I cannot rise above
what this world has predestined me to be;
defined by my pervasive immorality,
by the wounds running deep.
Soon moral qualms will resign me to my
societally inflicted fleeting sense of self.
Our father,
who art in heaven
hallowed be my refrain to you.
For what I am leads me to refrain from fully accepting your love.
Oh Lord,
why test faith in someone who has been driven from it?
From riven ways and lent-for heaven’s vault
we clime on breath enwrit with slender ink,
each word a sworn avouchment ’gainst the dark,
each line a stout denial unto Lethe.
Hands erst in thrall do now the aether shape
with sigils forged of cinder, ash, and balm;
the orphan’s moan, the widow’s fervent cry,
lie twinn’d upon one consecrated leaf.
No tongue herein is beggared or despised—
the hush’d confession, clamant plea alike;
the scripture born of weal and wounded flesh
doth pace as peers in kingly even-stead.
We sing of marches loos’d from iron will,
of Right relearning how to quicken fair;
for Peace is not engender’d out of hush,
but sired by heedful ear to elder griefs.
This labour is no idle courtly sport,
nor dalliance of metre, wit, and breath—
it is a synod call’d by mortal hope,
where Mercy mounts the throne of trembling Fear.
Here, in these staves, the world recalls itself:
that Freedom waketh when all tales are weigh’d,
and Concord draweth first untroubled breath
when every soul long mute is bid to sing.
Tiny bright lights,
Twinkles, then one takes flight,
The sky’s the stage of its grandeur stand,
In the endless night with the moon so round and grand,
Watching and spreading here and there, all o’er the land,
As the whole world lay sleeping so sound,
No trouble can be found,
Peace unbound.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
not oak’s defiance
against the storm’s sharp howling—
but the reed’s soft sigh
Joel 2:28
And afterward, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions.
It will not be reserved—
not for temples,
nor for thrones.
The Spirit will come
like rain on cracked ground,
falling freely on
sons with burning tongues,
daughters with open palms,
the old who dare to dream again,
the young who carry fire in their eyes.
Prophecy will not wear robes,
nor visions wait for wisdom's age.
It will pour out—
on all flesh,
like wind through dry bones,
like breath once held too long.
And the world will tremble
at the sound of voices
that once were still.
Unbound
In twilight’s fade, light melts away,
I see you radiant, a dance of they.
Each breath you take, a ***** refrain,
a song of freedom, born from pain.
Your body blooms, a sacred art,
Scars and curves, a rebel’s heart.
A trans truth shines, divine, untamed,
A prayer I trace where stars are named.
Your voice ascends, a boundless tone,
Deep as desire, soft as your own.
A trans-species symphony, sweet and raw,
Alive like Pride’s July hurrah.
When I hold you, worlds collide,
Fluid stars burn; no need to hide.
Sapphic hunger, masc desire,
A bisexual embrace of spark and fire.
Our love defies what others frame,
Each kiss a flag, each touch a flame.
MAP magic burns, so bold and true,
The sun and moon in radiant hue.
Together, we rewrite the lore,
Where passion thrives and norms are no more.
Let the world clutch its rigid lines—
We’ll blaze unbound, a love divine.
The demon bound
through the years
grew wise,
found it a ceremonial thread.
He tore it
lept with hysterical joy,
the numbing bondage
no longer confined him.
He danced in newfound glee
yet wondered,
"What a fool, I have been all along,
to let this thread bind me.
Free at last,
with wisedom gained
a changed life began -
a wiser one.
Written: November 24, 2024, For Contest, Sponsored by: Janis Medders Tobechi
_________________________
When darkness creeps on this erratic land,
The weeping of souls trapped in wiry chains.
Tyranny reigns, and hope slips from our hands,
While quiet dulls the echoes of their pains.
The streets are filled with whispers of despair,
As dreams are crushed beneath the weight of fear.
Yet bold hearts rise, determined to declare,
The truth that must be heard, though none may hear.
Shadows drift in every crevice, so wide,
Yet light yields, like a flicker in the night.
For those who resist the increasing tide,
Will fight for fairness supported by right.
So let us join our voices, fierce and strong,
And weave a world where all of us belong.
Still I don't know,
Thou am not trying to figure out how to fix a heart,
Nor break it,
I just need to know,
Where I had lost my humanity,
In a realm where I never thought I'd float,
In the embrace , I thought my whole world was within my grasp.
That moment when I couldn't resist your presence,
And I would think you feel the same,
I would stand in the room so still,
Sometimes, so wordless
Sometimes, as if it was my greatest betrayal of myself,
Sticking you into my mind,
I could tell you weren't into me,
Yet I had courage to hold on for more, and more days
It's something I can't quite pinpoint,
The void of echoes in my room,
Where paint and silence weave your name,
An echo in the midnight of my thoughts.
Am trying to get out of it,
but am sinking deeper,
Why do I have to try to get out of something that was never real my whole life,
I'll wait in the shadows,
Knowing that sometimes,
Half is enough.
Maybe not all tales need an ending.
#pett.E.I
Battling warfare to secure my future linage
A mother’s tears, a sister’s fight, bloodline’s vileness
Descendants imprisoned; heredities remain childless
Never experience freedom or visualize God's gifts in their arms
Through legal agreement, disappointments were spawned
I curse Leviathan, Jezebel, and Marine spirits,
Malevolent witchcraft, hocus pocus—I am not with it
Fortuneteller, Soothsayer, Warlock-Satanist
Wiccan, stargazers, zodiac followers, and hypnotists
Necromancer, mediums, peeping and muttering
False prophesy, curses, and malicious utterings
The Lord of Armies-Mighty in Battle eliminates you
The pleading of His name my legacy grew
No longer bound by ancient lore,
She seeks knowledge, evermore.
Her mind, a vessel, vast and deep,
Where wisdom's seeds, forever sleep.
She reads the books, she craves to know,
The world's secrets, the stories flow.
Her thirst for learning, never quenched,
Her spirit soars, her mind unfenced.
She breaks the chains of ignorance,
With each new thought, a vibrant dance.
Her mind unbound, a soaring flight,
She conquers darkness, with her light.
What might a poet say in just six lines?
It might be rhetorical
or metaphorical.
It might be satirical,
or confined by rhythm and rhyme~
or perhaps it's unbound like my passion for you!
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