She Wrote in Red Pen

Date: 12th February, 2019
Edited: 14th February, 2019

Written at the Writers Cafe meetup
Prompt: She wrote with red pen

WARNING: Mentions of suicide

“Dear Bro, Mum and Dad,
Emma, Rose and Chad.
It’s me, the magnificent Jen,”
Jennifer wrote in bold red pen.

“I’m writing today
‘Cuz I want to say
Something that is really quite grand,”
Continued Jen in bright red pen.

“I do understand-
Might not be a fan,
Might totally mess up your zen,”
Jen scribbled in vivid red pen.

“But I must come clean,
No lies in between.
I’m gay- I’ve known since I was ten,”
She wrote shakily in stark red pen.

“It’s because of that
I deeply regret
I’m not madly in love with Sven,”
Jen scrawled messily in red pen.

“I’m sorry I lied
But I really tried
To pray away the gay, amen,”
She cried guiltily in red pen.

“Disappointment and,
Disapproval and…
You all will turn on me even,”
She wept, grieving deeply in red pen.

“I cannot face this.
I’d rather give into bliss,
Run into Death, arms wide open,”
She committed in sharp red pen.

“So goodbye to you.
Fam and friends, adieu.
Signing off, for the last time, Jen.”
Here, blood from her own red ink pen.

I clutch in my hand
The last of my friend.
Jen, I hope you will be the last
To write tragedy in red pen.

14th February, 2019
Writer’s Notes:

The night prior to writing this poem, I read a suicide letter written by a trans girl- she was 17 when she took her life. If you would like to read it (although, I must warn you, dear readers, it is a heavy and tragic read) you may click here. It put me in a somber mood, the kind that makes the world look gray and dark, where light could do little but illuminate the depravity of humanity just enough so that people could see just how horrible we as a species could be. It’s even more hard hitting when I have loved ones who are transgender and/or part of the LGBT community. (Not saying that trans issues are the same as those of the gay or other gender/ sexuality spectrum)

I carried those feelings through the night and into the day and into the writers cafe meetup. I’ve always used poetry as a method to deal with these thoughts and emotions, the words acting like an anchor, the rhymes and constraints acting like walls of a psych office and the act of writing, spilling feeling into reality where I can look at it and make peace with my insides. I was quite scared to share this piece to the others but I’m humbled and happy that those in attendance were respectful and appreciative of my work, the message I wished to send and my feelings embedded in the words.

I call out to those reading this far to please, stand by your loved ones and keep them close. Keep them safe. Let them know that you love them. No matter what identity they have, whether it be gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, nonbinary, pansexual… or from other various minority groups… or hell, even if they’re different from others in whatever way. If you love them, accept them. Love them. And maybe, things will get better. The world will get better. I hope that people, in the future, don’t have to feel so alone, so trapped, so hopeless, that they end their own lives.

Until next time,
The Writing Borb

PS: Thanks to Snitchcat who said my poetry reminded them of Dr. Seuss and Edgar Allan Poe. I love those two writers to pieces so being compared to them was an absolute honor.

A Rambling Note About The Sentinels (at the end)

Why is that we so often muddy the city’s reputation?
Unrightfully comparing it to the picturesque country
“Back to the basics, back to nature.”
Oh, boring, bothersome, battering repetition!
City dwellers, you accursed traitors!
Rural bumpkins, ah, ignorant negotiators!
I jest, of course, a hyperbole, you see-
A little humor, that’s all that is, between you and me.
But all things considering,
Now that we are merely dithering,
On and on about the meaningless
And feeling that awkward squeamishness
About the absolute, true, superior
Between city and the country
Or better yet
The discussion of who owns this domain
The Earth
Is it the familiar conqueror known as Man?
Or is it Mother Nature who wins this contest on demand?
Today, the youngsters, the enlightened, they like to call themselves
Would say that Nature is the true state of the this world-
The original, the beginning,
The end, the everlasting.
They are not wrong.
I dare not argue with that.
It is fact.
But at the same time, what is the
State of the world?
Nature encompasses all,
It encompasses the human race.
It encompasses the entirety of space.
But not so much, the entirety of time.
Self-made Architect,
Crowded all things man-made into a kingdom we call “City”
Crammed all our homes into buildings, apartments so itty-bitty
And standing from so very, very, VERY high up
Perhaps past the clouds and into space
You will see
The city
A living thing
Encroaching over the surface of this planet
Like a parasitic rash that won’t go away
Correction: a beautiful parasitic rash that won’t go away.
Blood vessels-
roads, train tracks, sidewalks and ship routes-
Human lives.
The laughter, the sighs, the crying, the screaming, the chatter, the hustle and the bustle-
The inhales
The exhales.
The city bleeds.
The city speaks.
The city breathes.
The city-
It lives.
But what about tomorrow?
The tomorrow where humanity is wiped out?
A meteor, a disease, hell, even wars?
Whether it’s by divine wrath
Or self destructive cancer eating Man from within.
Without man, the city dies.
Nature wins.
And all that’s left,
As a last laugh,
For perhaps the next thousand or so years,
(A blink of an eye to Mother Nature really)
Are the sentinels.
Ghostly, hollowed out sentinels
Made of steel, concrete, glass and plastic
Of the City’s last breathing remnants.

Written: 10th April, 2018
Edited: 7th February, 2019

Prompt: Collaboration- write about the city while collaborator writes about nature

7th February, 2019
Writer’s Notes:

This is an oldie but I thought I’d upload it here anyways. This was a collaboration with a friend where I had to write about the city and my friend had to write about nature. I’m a big fan of rambling nonsensical poetry so I applied that here but I also applied shape to the poem- if you look closer, the poem forms the shape of a pulse line from a heart monitor! That’s all I have to say about this poem. Might write more in the coming days but I’m also gathering poems to publish in literary journals sooo I won’t be able to post all that I write here.

Until next time,
The Writing Borb