The Anarcher
The pen is mightier than the sword they say, but why not an arrow? Much more dignified I think.
The Anarcher
The pen is mightier than the sword they say, but why not an arrow? Much more dignified I think.
The pen is mightier than the sword they say, but why not an arrow? Much more dignified I think.
The pen is mightier than the sword they say, but why not an arrow? Much more dignified I think.
Poetry is simply words Strung into imperfect lines Some, meticulous meter’d Others fondly embrace rhymes
Poets’ Poems Resonate Meaning fills Voids in hearts Poetry is word art Pleasing to the eye Notice the arc of this The mountain I provide
Perhaps you dislike sentences Have paragraphal feuds You long to break free Miss the freedom of no rules
Or are you cookie cutter Yet forming your own shapes Your mind runs wild in confines You need to harness restraints
It’s expression at its core So broad in execution Every creative mind Sorts beauty from pollution
It wasn’t a message. Not picture nor word. Just a sound. Nothing more. It was high pitched, grating… eerie. It didn’t vary much, but you could tell it was a human scream. Or at least it once was. Its tones had clearly been twisted into dissonant antiharmonies, autotuning out any imperfections in pitch. Each change was intentional, puppeteered. Impossible. You could make no sense of it. It wouldn’t stop. You tried pressing every button. Turning your phone off. Restarting it. NOTHING WORKED. The sound was driving you mad. You took deep breaths. One at a time. Trying to hear something different. Maybe it was a message. You tried to change the volume. It only got louder. Never went down. You dove deep into your phone settings and adjusted the levels of each sound quality. You turned the bass up. The high ranges. The low. It twisted the sound, but the sound was essentially the same. You finally found the file it was playing from. You had never seen it before. You couldn’t delete it. Couldn’t edit it. Couldn’t stop it here either. You began to pull on your bleach-fried hair in panic. The noise triggered every sense of flight or fight possible. You heavily considered chucking your precious phone into the glassy lake behind you, but then you would have no form of communication with anyone. You would be stranded. Your heart raced like a prize horse. How had this gotten on your phone? It had never left your side. You hadn’t seen anyone since arriving in the mountains. The neighbors kept well to themselves. This was supposed to be a relaxing break from the bustle of working… overworking… Your nerves were truly worn thin. You tossed your head back as the sun disappeared behind the streak of evergreens on the horizon and released a soul-baring scream so guttural every ominous bat in the vicinity bolted to the hills to find their insect victims elsewhere. Your howl blended into the auditory attack like an alpha wolf joining the cries of the pack. The fissures in your sanity deepened, immediately filled with the jagged, churning sound waves of the shriek. You were becoming the sound. Or rather, it was overtaking you. Suddenly, the sound stopped, but this time the silence was closing in unbearably, crushing your fragile mortal body. Fingers shaking, you unlocked your phone and pulled up the file, craving its presence like a drug. You spammed the play button until its comforting waves drowned your thoughts out again. It washed over your brain, gleaning clarity from chaos. You knew what you needed to do. You knew the piece you had been missing before. You uploaded the file to some app that really shouldn’t have been on your phone either. It was sinisterly titled “The Noise.” As if your fingers had a mind of their own, they danced across the screen to reverse the sound. It was still horrendously cacophonous, but this time the scream held words: “W I L L Y O U J O I N U S.” You could tell it was not a question. Your head spun terribly from the auditory discord wreaked on yours ears. Abruptly, you realized you had no idea who “you” was anymore. The darkened world around grew darker still until it faded to black. Webbed cracks crawled across the phone screen. Head collided with dock.
Jenla and Barth were shivering in the brisk windy breeze, teeth chattering like dancing skeletons. Jenla pulled her balaclava up further over her face, obscuring her numbing nose and rosy cheeks. Barth opted for frosted snow glasses and a thick winter scarf. They pulled their puffer jackets tighter, concealing their cold-pale hands and their weapons. Barth risked a worn gloved thumb in hopes that a car would pity them enough to pull over. They were doing their best to look like helpless travelers in need of warmth. The place they chose was just outside a fairly small town but on the way to a big city, so it wasn’t unusual to find hitchhikers dotting the roadside snow dunes. People from small towns were so innocent. So trusting. That is, except for the odd cases, with the occasional “man from middle of nowhere murders his whole town” stories. But alas, many doors were unlocked and guards were down in favor of the good ol’ fashioned “Oh hello darlin’” way. They were basically asking to be murdered if the “man of the house” wasn’t home with his big “I’ll shoot ya mister” gun. The storm was picking up, raining down wet chunks, not pretty dainty flakes, of snow. “Gee it’s gettin’ pretty cold now,” Barth noted, a hint of worry sneaking into his confident-as-can-be persona. “Dang tootin’ right you are,” Jenla agreed, “but don’t ya worry yar pretty li’l face. They’ll come.” As she said this, an old Subaru squealed around the corner, slowing down a little as it approached. “Bingo.” The passenger rolled down his window. “Hey y’all. Need a ride? Hop right in. It’s colder than a well-digger’s butt, ain’t it?” “Y’all are lifesavers, you are. We’ve been freezin’ our tail feathers off,” Jenla drawled back. She nodded an “I told you so” to Barth, before opening the door for him in a mock-gentlemanly manner, out of sight of the duo in the front seat. “What lovely folks,” she said, just in earshot of them. It was never bad to make a good first impression. “Oh, bless yar hearts. Now, what brings the both of ya through these here parts?” the passenger asked. “I’m Gator.” He was a skinny man with a curly mustache that almost touched his nose. “This here is Zachson,” he added, gesturing to the silent driver, a more lumberjack-looking type. “Well, Zachson, Gator, lovely to meet ya both. I’m Barth, and my cous- er wife here is Jenla. We’re headed just Southeast of the big city.” Gator chuckled warmly, before dropping the act. His voice went about an octave lower, an impressive feat for the twig of a man. “Well I’m afraid that ain’t gonna be happenin’.” He pulled out a rifle, shoving it in Jenla’s face. Barth flinched as Jenla burst into guffaws of laughter. “Ain’t a way in tarnation! You two also murderers?” she said in disbelief. “Well I’ll be tarred and feathered. Y’all are too? That’s just hunky dory, now ain’t it, Zachson? We were nearabout to shoot ya, li’l lady, and pass ya for a possum pie. Not yar pretty man though, we right like him fine.” He waggled his manicured eyebrows in Barth’s direction, tucking the gun away. Zachson grunted his approval. “Y’all want some cookies? Butter pecan,” he boomed. “Ol’est trick in the book,” Barth chucked. “poisoned?” “Yar got us!” Gator giggled, joining in the laughter. “I gotta know, what weapons ya totin’ in those bigger-than-a-bull puffers?” “Well we ain’t all hat and no cattle! We got a few good ol’ Arkansas toothpicks, a pistol or two, solid yard or two a’rope, some extra-long matches, poison- y’all know the drill -maybe a few others,” Barth blabbed. Jenla elbowed his side hard. “Now, what brings y’all to murder?” Jenla bantered. “Ah, well ya see, we’re a homosexual couple, we are, and a lotta folks in this neck o’ the woods ain’t really like that sorta thing. So, we kill the lady and keep the gent. I hope y’all don’t gotta problem with that, now do ya?” Gator threatened. “Oh, no siree. She ain’t really my wife anywho,” Barth admitted, running a finger through his mullet. “Barth! He ain’t very good at keepin’ covers, ya see. I’m trainin’ his sorry behind. But yes, we are cousins,” Jenla confessed. “Well, seein’ as y’all ain’t really goin’ to the city, ya fixin’ to come to our li’l cabin in the woods?” Gator suggested. Jenla glanced at Barth. “That’d be peachy. Got any victims there yet? We’d love to murder… maybe torture… with y’all if you’ll have us.” Barth nodded his approval. “And, uh, maybe other things as well.”
Her soul is chartreuse Fresh avacados Lemon lime juice Highlighter green All covered in yellow A violent moonbeam A spritz of Febreeze A Clorox wipe Sickly snot sneeze Vibrant radium Clock on the wall An underripe plum A grassy hillside Rita Skeeter A cool new ride Growths of algae Bioluminescence Foxfire fungi A hint of saffron Chlorophyll Some fire engines Tennis balls Shrek and the Grinch Green apples Safety vests Cool lava lamps Pandan digests Sea glass chunks A liqueur bottle Carthusian monks
Take a step As I roll the dice A burble of laughter Warmth in the ice You say you’re near As you always are But never did I dream You’d step away so far I watch your heart As it crystallizes Buried deeper Under layers of vices Frozen over tundra So barren, so cold I reach for your warmth But have nothing to hold But I’ll find you yet I’ll thaw your blackened ice I miss you so much Come inside, dear, it’s nice I wish to close our distance As we once knew so well As concrete as a map The greenery in my dell I’ll try to feed the fireplace But only this once more Hunger never satisfied For the love that I pour This log will be the last And I hope you make it spark Rekindle the light within Or shiver in the dark I assure you I can be cold If I muster courage to try You’ve drained what I have to give So please don’t let my light die
The tortoise was a dusty old thing, barely hanging onto life. Its toothless maw gaped slightly in that puckered sort of way, parched of the youth it yearned for. Each wrinkled step was arduous. Aimless. There was no reason to keep on walking. Yet it did. Step after heaving step. One stalky stump in front of the other. That was all there was left to do. The only sparks of joy left in its life were wilted cabbage shreds. Even those, it seemed, became farther and fewer between. It was munching a last sad sliver between toothless jaws. There was not much in the way of sunlight, either. It had a window, yet the blinds were always drawn down to cover the overcast gray sea of London sky. Sometimes, the tortoise leaned a little too far and ended up belly-up on its sandy shell. Its feet waggled helplessly in the air until it gave up and just sat and rocked, waiting for some outside force to right it. It led a lonely life.
A year ago today I was a child Fireworks Shell shock BooM Not war But war inside Right outside The window BOOM The floor sHoOk Windows RAttLEd It was pretty jarRIng Too much Too little To fill The gaping Hole In my Heart A strange place Strange feelings Strange times I never meant To leave you In the past The year was gone And so were you Two Thirty One Will forever Be engraved Imprinted In my mind Soul to ocean Body to dust Dust to air Sparkling Shining Brightly In the night sky With children below Laughing and playing With firecrackers B O O M Another sleepless night I love you too much To think of goodbyes I can’t think of fireworks Without your light
Pretty petals Full of romance Memories float In sweet fragrance Lovers dote Just like pretty petals Time is special
Time heals Time hurts One day they’re there Then fear the worst No time to spare Just like wounds time heals Time also steals
Pretty petals Wilting away Molded corners Shriveled days Full of mourners Just like dying petals Time was special
Time heals Time hurts It pains to see What’s in the dirt Wish it were me Just like wounds time deals From me, time steals
Withered petals Reminding me The missing space Where they should be Phantoms I chase Just like pretty petals Time, too, will settle
Here There They’re everywhere On the rafters In the walls Hanging in the air Praying for your downfall Catch them if you dare There is no truce No second chances Fate is ever sealed The moment you arrived within You signed the devil’s deal They know if you’re adopted If a parent was unfaithful They’ve tasted your entirety With blood they’re never wasteful They relish in your agony Those silent deadly stabbers You’ve covered up best you can Yet nothing for their daggers They come in swarms by nightfall I suggest you try to hide Come to exterminate the beasts They’ll exterminate your pride The worst part of the job They’re invisible by nature You can’t kill all of them Not even one creature They do not come from Florida Though in truth they know it well They come special delivery From a special place called Hell
There you were Alone and drenched Just like me On the park bench Your hands cold Shivering white Pale as ghost Yet blue as night
You seemed to be Disassociating Out of your mind Succumbed to waiting I grasped your hand Head snapped up in surprise I slid closer To your hood-shaded eyes
You seemed hesitant I didn’t think it possible The shivering stopped You froze with my close proximal Chilled past shivering By me, the encroaching stranger Didn’t stop to think You’d interpret this as danger
“I’m sorry,” I whispered My vocal chords were steeped in winter’s tea Voice raspy from unuse “I noticed you in the elements, see?”
I moved my umbrella So it would cover the both of our heads You lost faith in kindness But I helped you instead