Submissions by princeluteia (Luteia)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I have competed at a provincial level for slam poetry and I enjoy writing poetry about all sorts of things. I am also fictionkind as well as generally alterhuman, and I don't intend on shutting up about it anytime soon. It greatly influences my work.
SELF POEM
Published
2nd Aug 2021 5:27am
2nd Aug 2021 5:27am
Lughnasadh // Shards of Summer
August 1st, Lughnasadh. The first harvest. The first feast. I laugh with the summer’s heatwave that leaves the rain a distant dream. The first harvest of autumn’s coming, the first harbinger of winter, the last night of true summer gracing my skin. So I shatter a window and collect the glass shards of the last sundown of summer. Before the leaves change colours, while I can still be myself. Before the fog rolls in, before my rainbow turns to gray and the bitter chill ahead. I peer into the looking-glass shards, and the light I see may yet still hold a trace of the warmer months.
I bake...
I bake...
#summer
#fall
#holiday #bittersweet
#holiday #bittersweet
276 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
2nd Aug 2021 5:27am
2nd Aug 2021 5:27am
in kismet rapture
sometimes i wonder what the rapture's gonna look like if we don't save ourselves in time. if it'll be quick and over in a single night or as slow as this species' descent into madness.
so when did we go mad? when did we decide that numbers made of lightning meant more to us than lifetimes of history yet to be? is it when we discovered oil or gasoline, or currency over barter and i wonder, are some discoveries just not meant for us?
we, so i was told, always thought that the rapture would start with trumpets and falling stars like our own mortal crimes could really touch those...
so when did we go mad? when did we decide that numbers made of lightning meant more to us than lifetimes of history yet to be? is it when we discovered oil or gasoline, or currency over barter and i wonder, are some discoveries just not meant for us?
we, so i was told, always thought that the rapture would start with trumpets and falling stars like our own mortal crimes could really touch those...
#anxiety
#politics
#fate
225 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
14th Nov 2020 7:28am
14th Nov 2020 7:28am
so here's to the night
So here's to the ones who survived.
And here's to the ones that didn't.
Here's to the drunks who can't really stop, that I still love.
Here's to the abusers that I don't need to forgive or hate.
Here's to the ones who love me, here's to the ones still in the dark.
Here's to all us still angry, and here's to all us still laughing.
Here's to the bastards who tried to kill us, here's to the murderers who succeeded.
Here's to the innocent who we couldn't save, here's to the victors who we could.
Here's to the candles that'll burn for a year and...
And here's to the ones that didn't.
Here's to the drunks who can't really stop, that I still love.
Here's to the abusers that I don't need to forgive or hate.
Here's to the ones who love me, here's to the ones still in the dark.
Here's to all us still angry, and here's to all us still laughing.
Here's to the bastards who tried to kill us, here's to the murderers who succeeded.
Here's to the innocent who we couldn't save, here's to the victors who we could.
Here's to the candles that'll burn for a year and...
#hope
#politics
#support #morality
#support #morality
235 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
13th May 2020 00:29am
13th May 2020 00:29am
and it comes down to blood and fire
nobody knows who the first ghost was. lucy, maybe? adam? a great pool of souls and minds, and all we ever did was stir from death's embrace long enough to weep. i break fragments of memories over my hands and let them slice red, let them heal white, and i am a breathing boy in a dead girl's skin, and how dare i not wish to be someone's ghost, just for a moment, sing their love back to someone they cared about.
i only ever wanted to be myself. i can handle being known but i draw the line at being perceived, at being seen as something i'm not, and yet i've been wrapped in so many ghosts...
i only ever wanted to be myself. i can handle being known but i draw the line at being perceived, at being seen as something i'm not, and yet i've been wrapped in so many ghosts...
#identity
#LGBT
#frustration #philosophical
#frustration #philosophical
392 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
22nd Apr 2020 9:49am
22nd Apr 2020 9:49am
five minutes of an almost home
There are three things I know: queer bars see more hope than graffiti on highschool walls, hospitals see more prayers than church-bell calls, and airports see truer kisses than wedding halls.
Three things I know to be truer than words, and I know them to be secrets meant to be shared. As I fly back home - is it really home, now that I know what I'm missing? - I wonder what you've seen. What secrets do you hold within those carpeted floors, tucked between corners and security and one last shopping mall? What truths do you take into your core and never let go? What memories did you let us...
Three things I know to be truer than words, and I know them to be secrets meant to be shared. As I fly back home - is it really home, now that I know what I'm missing? - I wonder what you've seen. What secrets do you hold within those carpeted floors, tucked between corners and security and one last shopping mall? What truths do you take into your core and never let go? What memories did you let us...
#ILoveYou
#LGBT
#gratitude #crush
#gratitude #crush
391 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
22nd Apr 2020 9:46am
22nd Apr 2020 9:46am
weeping willow's wedding bells
lay down on your hips with me under the weeping willow's roots, head on the mossy bark and a song of summer on your lips. tell me your every desire, your ever dream. drift through the afternoon breeze, the wandering's daylight, until waking up is but a soft and hopeful thing.
until the weeping willow, oh how she wept for us on our wedding day, the chiming of the bells - those golden, gilded bells! - ringing out with a song of springtime on their brass.
fall asleep at the weeping willow's roots and tell me of your dreams. the sundown sorrow breaking with the dawn through the night,...
until the weeping willow, oh how she wept for us on our wedding day, the chiming of the bells - those golden, gilded bells! - ringing out with a song of springtime on their brass.
fall asleep at the weeping willow's roots and tell me of your dreams. the sundown sorrow breaking with the dawn through the night,...
#love
#ILoveYou
#LGBT #earth
#LGBT #earth
446 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
29th Feb 2020 3:00am
29th Feb 2020 3:00am
marcescence over the music box
i want to write something happy. a little bit of blooming before the rot withers it all away. before all i have is marcescence and silent determination. something soft, something gentle.
i wind up the music box that rests on the corner of my desk and i let it play, soft and chiming and reminding me of the smallest fragments of life. how the winter snow falls down like tears and the rain screams as it drowns us all out. i want to write something happy, as i try to fill the decaying compost with something that can breathe it in and morph into something beautiful.
how tired i am, of...
i wind up the music box that rests on the corner of my desk and i let it play, soft and chiming and reminding me of the smallest fragments of life. how the winter snow falls down like tears and the rain screams as it drowns us all out. i want to write something happy, as i try to fill the decaying compost with something that can breathe it in and morph into something beautiful.
how tired i am, of...
#hope
#dark
#acceptance
351 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
29th Feb 2020 3:00am
29th Feb 2020 3:00am
echoing gold, resounding silver
Can you hear me? ... Can you? I need you to listen. I really, really need you to listen. And if it doesn't make sense, listen a little more, because there is a meaning here, in its own broken way. If you can hear me. If you can listen. Because... this is broken. This is the last of what was written before the tower's fall, and I wonder when I stopped looking forward to that, and this... is broken. Say it how you like. Cut clear into a silver, mundane world of breakups and mothers and love and legislation. Lacerate true into hearts that don't bother hiding their decay.
I'm not... I'm not...
I'm not... I'm not...
#confessional
#metaphor
447 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
27th Feb 2020 11:40pm
27th Feb 2020 11:40pm
amputee
in front of me is nothing but gray, ashy against overcast, and the lightning that streaked across the sky is gone, and all that is left, is me. behind that overcast is a million tiny gods, watching, waiting, what is done in the darkness is between me and the stars, but the sun still rises.
the moon sets on one hellish decade and the sun rises on another. you're supposed to let it go. you're supposed to set it down and set it free. but i... i am not quite ready. i want to move on i want to say thank gods it's over. the beginning is near and we begin anew. but the unknown, that future, is...
the moon sets on one hellish decade and the sun rises on another. you're supposed to let it go. you're supposed to set it down and set it free. but i... i am not quite ready. i want to move on i want to say thank gods it's over. the beginning is near and we begin anew. but the unknown, that future, is...
#SelfReflection
434 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
27th Feb 2020 11:39pm
27th Feb 2020 11:39pm
and the sun sets on a world on fire
and the sun sets, and the dam begins to break under the pressure. the world is changing and so am i, and i am awake gasping from the wet and i come out of the water. as the world begins to wake. again. the cycle turns. we turn. towards, away. the world is breaking. i refuse to break. take my hand, come with me. you’ve been drowning so much longer, my eyes are finally open under the waves and the dam is breaking, can you tell we’re about to fall? what happens when we hit the ground? i don’t know. i didn’t feel okay coming out of the water until i could open my eyes within it but we’re still...
#politics
#LGBT
#rebellion
360 reads
0 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
4th Oct 2019 00:40am
4th Oct 2019 00:40am
how to be a fictional character.
step one.
exist. you are a blank state; and the love you feel will never be enough.
step two.
make poor choices. your sense of justice is surely misguided.
step three.
fall apart. your story is romanticized and your tears fall on desensitized ears.
step four.
die. was it even worth it, you'll never know.
step five.
return to the living. if it's your brain or your soul or something else, you'll breathe again.
step six.
be confused. your don't understand these misplaced memories...
exist. you are a blank state; and the love you feel will never be enough.
step two.
make poor choices. your sense of justice is surely misguided.
step three.
fall apart. your story is romanticized and your tears fall on desensitized ears.
step four.
die. was it even worth it, you'll never know.
step five.
return to the living. if it's your brain or your soul or something else, you'll breathe again.
step six.
be confused. your don't understand these misplaced memories...
#faith
#rebirth
#magic #MovingOn
#magic #MovingOn
393 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
1st Apr 2019 6:06am
1st Apr 2019 6:06am
that impossible, certain present where you save me
and in that impossible, broken future where they'd never hurt you and i wasn't there, you saved the world. in the impossible, broken past, you used your love all up for another dream, another love. thank you for choosing me, anyway. you will always be mine.
#LGBT
#fate
#magic
447 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by princeluteia (Luteia)
