“Lunar Shatters” by Melissa Broder

I read this poem yesterday and just had to share it with you all, sort of as my Holiday gift to you. Hope you enjoy!

***

I came into the world a young man
Then I broke me off
Still the sea and clouds are Pegasus colors
My heart is Pegasus colors but to get there I must go back
Back to the time before I was a woman
Before I broke me off to make a flattened lap
And placed thereon a young man
Where I myself could have dangled
And how I begged him enter there
My broken young man parts
And how I let the mystery collapse
With rugged young man puncture
And how I begged him turn me Pegasus colors
And please to put a sunset there
And gone forever was my feeling snake
And in its place dark letters
And me the softest of all
And me so skinless I could no longer be naked
And me I had to de-banshee
And me I dressed myself
I made a poison suit
I darned it out of myths
Some of the myths were beautiful
Some turned ugly in the making
The myth of the slender girl
The myth of the fat one
The myth of rescue
The myth of young men
The myth of the hair in their eyes
The myth of how beauty would save them
The myth of me and who I must become
The myth of what I am not
And the horses who are no myth
How they do not need to turn Pegasus
They are winged in their un-myth
They holy up the ground
I must holy up the ground
I sanctify the ground and say fuck it
I say fuck it in a way that does not invite death
I say fuck it and fall down no new holes
And I ride an unwinged horse
And I unbecome myself
And I strip my poison suit
And wear my crown of fuck its
***
Also, I highly suggest that you all follow Melissa Broder on Twitter, if you have one. And if you don’t, I suggest getting one just so that you can follow Melissa Broder. That’s what I did, anyways.
***
Here are some gems from her Twitter account:
glad that nurture fucked me up and not just nature
brb, dismantling my belief system
roll up 2 the club in a vague feeling of impending doom
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I hate men.

I fear I’m falling into the trap
bitter bra-burning “that’s not what feminism is” claptrap-mousetrap

but what’s the alternative?
Loving them? Loving the rape, holdingdownforcingdown-pillage-penetration—blood+bones+brains?

Should I love you, men? Are you worth it?

Are you really worth it when you
you hurt me/you hurt her
her
her

But don’t worry cause it’s all part of the thrill: cockdrip-powertrip
so you can rest your foot on our cracking backs

you really can;
you are man.

(((how can I love?)!)…)

Lie to me.

Lie to me depraved heart.
Whisper nonsense of faded faces,
bring back warmth
to a world now tasteless.

Stop the blood from coursing
through my veins.
Pump backwards!
Please, lead me back there again

to a time before I learned
those aged lessons for mine eyes.
How to break.
How to cry.

If you have to lie,
I don’t mind, my love.
I’ll hide in your smile—
forever  live in those lines.

Free Write Friday

This is a rather long and pointless story (as are most streams of consciousness) but it’s for Free Write Friday, in which a photograph is shown for inspiration, and we are supposed to write a story about it. It’s definitely not an amazing piece of literature by no means, so be warned. Hope you enjoy my gibberish!  ——————————————————————————————————————

The moon was incandescent that night, though Elphbet wished that the other two moons were out of the cover of the clouds so that they too might guide her way through the marshlands. Elphbet wasn’t suited for the marshs. With her shiny orange and black coat and her long tail that got caught in mud and bushes, Elphbet was more suited for her fertile home planet. At least there she blended in with the rest of the life forms.

There! That was the signal, the light in the trees signaled to Elphbet to join the rebel forces and lead the attack. That was what she had been paid for to do anyway. She had a high success rate for leading rebellions, and she didn’t ask too many questions. In the eyes of rebels on every single planet, she was the perfect leader. She scared the troops into a dim-witted respect and obedience because of her strange quadruped appearance and pearly white teeth, and she left immediately so that the political masterminds behind the rebellion could take charge without anymore bloodshed necessary.

She was the perfect leader, and she was expensive.

The light was wavering now. A few minutes had passed and the rebels still hadn’t heard the splash of water that should have indicated Elphbet’s arrival into the marshes. For all they knew, she was still up on the dry land licking her paws like she always did before she had to make a big speech. And so they waited. They believed in Elphbet, and they didn’t want to give up on her the night when she was going to lead them to victory.

Elphbet saw the flickering lights and bared her teeth in her own peculiar type of grin. Her eyes closed into small slits as she moved between the rocks and the grass, though not as stealthily as she normally would have. She wanted them to see her, wanted them to see her bright orange and black coat and sigh in relief. For the first time, Elphbet was giving away her position.

Just as she expected, the lights went out the minute they saw her gliding toward the water. “Now,” the rebels all thought at the same time, “swim through the water to our side and lead us to victory. Then we will be safe from our murdering, greedy government.” They knew the Elphbet was the only one with the government maps, the only one who knew the schedule of the Reignor who had tormented them for generations and generations. She was the only safe one because she was the only one who had no reason to betray them.

But then. But then they saw her pause and yawn lazily as she stopped her beautiful, seductive glide right in front of the water. They heard her piercing roar in the sky, giving away not only her position, but theirs as well. And they felt the ground quiver as the pods from underneath carried the Enforcers whose job it was to kill all rebels.

They looked at Elphbet in silence as their chance for a happier life came crumbling down. And Elphbet smiled her peculiar grin, and said,

“I don’t particularly enjoy water. But I did enjoy your money.”

She walked away, back into the shadows of the building that the rebels had generously given her, and entered a deep sleep, dreaming of tomorrow when the leader of the totalitarian government, the Reignor, would take her back to her home planet in his space pod. To Elphbet, there were some things more important than the security of a few peasants. For instance, there was herself.

Elegance of The Hedgehog — in 33 words

Deathly boring bourgeois existence
for little rich girl;
Mask of stupidity
for elegant, philosophical concierge.

Delicate camellias and
arrival of Japanese
brings
realizations of life’s beauty.

Death.

Then appreciation of
always within never.

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From Trifecta: “This week we’re revisiting an early Trifextra prompt: retelling.  This time, we’re asking you to retell your favorite book.  In 33 words.  Nothing like a challenge.  We are sure you’re up to it.”

Small Tragedies

“Each day is a blessing. Make the most of it.”

That’s what my Mama always said, and I’ve started saying that every few minutes too, because it’s the only thing that gets rid of the grumpies. It’s hard, in this new world, to stay happy when I’m all by myself.

I should have listened to Mama. Mama’s always right, especially when she said “Don’t go into the Man’s Moving Cave.” I should have listened; I shouldn’t have argued and fought with her. But it was partially Mama’s fault, because she shouldn’t have been so lenient,  letting me climb up the big black wheel of the Moving Cave, up the green, shiny rock body until I fell through a big hole and landed inside.

That was what Mama warned me about, because once you’re inside, you can’t go out. I tried though; I tried so hard, but I couldn’t find that big hole again. I heard Mama screaming the entire time I struggled, screaming “Get out, the Monsters are coming! Get out, my baby, get out!” I moved as fast as I could when I heard that, and I think I was almost at the top too, but I was too slow for them. One of the Monsters, the Men, found me.

I think it was a baby Monster, but it was still ferocious. It dragged me with its pudgy fingers and squeezed me and spun me around and around and around until I couldn’t hear Mama anymore. Until I couldn’t hear anything but the cackling of Men and the whir of their wheeled cave.

Baby Monster held on to me the whole time, in its sweaty, greasy paw. Mama wouldn’t have liked that. Mama would have wanted me to take a bath, because Monsters are disgusting. But Mama wasn’t there in the Cave. Mama wasn’t there when we stopped either, and when Baby Monster got out and let me fall through the cracks of his fingers while another Monster thundered angrily at it and gave it something to wash it’s big, filthy paw, Mama was nowhere. I was alone.

That’s how I got here.

It’s very green here though with lots of nice moist fog that rolls off of my little shell. I think if Mama and the rest of them were here, we would have had a swell time. Maybe if I can find another Moving Cave, I can bring them here. But until then, I’ll count my blessings and make the most of this place.

That’s what Mama always said to do. And from now on, I’ll be a good snail and listen to Mama. And maybe one day, I’ll get to see her again.

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For Three Word Wednesday