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  1. @patricksudlow

    the worst thing about #starmer isn't that he is useless at running the country - it is that he is such a fucking authoritarian zionist control freak.
    locking up a judge for reminding ppl that they have freedom of opinion is just fucking wrong.

    #StarmerOut #labourfriendsofgenocide

  2. @patricksudlow

    the worst thing about #starmer isn't that he is useless at running the country - it is that he is such a fucking authoritarian zionist control freak.
    locking up a judge for reminding ppl that they have freedom of opinion is just fucking wrong.

    #StarmerOut #labourfriendsofgenocide

  3. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    Read my Poem “A Junkyard Father” Published on Altered Reality Magazine

    Hello again! I recently had a trifecta of luck at Altered Reality with some poems, and this is my second one that was picked up for publication by them.

    This week the poem is a little different than my previous one. No haunted forest or paradoxical monsters.

    Instead, I choose to focus on an image that has haunted me ever since I watched it. The toy scene in Bladerunner (director’s cut of course) in Sebastian’s attic has stuck with me ever since I watched it back in 2004. I often wonder what would those cybernetic creations do if Sebastian never returned.

    Who would take care of them?

    In “A Junkyard Father” I follow this same idea and principle. A scientist has created sentient toys in some robotic future, and he is confronted with the concept of mortality. When he dies and leaves this world, they’ll be nobody to take care of them. The toys will outlive him, and still require maintenance. He’ll die when they could potentially live for centuries.

    How will they cope? Who will be there?

    You can read “A Junkyard Father” right here.

    As always, you should check out the whole of Altered Reality. They publish great stuff from a variety of voices.

    Thank you for reading my work, and have a nice Wednesday!

    #author #blogging #books #fantasy #fiction #horror #horrorPoetry #literaryHorror #monsters #patrickWMarsh #poem #Poetry #scienceFiction #theGreenlandDiaries #writing
  4. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    Read my Poem “A Junkyard Father” Published on Altered Reality Magazine

    Hello again! I recently had a trifecta of luck at Altered Reality with some poems, and this is my second one that was picked up for publication by them.

    This week the poem is a little different than my previous one. No haunted forest or paradoxical monsters.

    Instead, I choose to focus on an image that has haunted me ever since I watched it. The toy scene in Bladerunner (director’s cut of course) in Sebastian’s attic has stuck with me ever since I watched it back in 2004. I often wonder what would those cybernetic creations do if Sebastian never returned.

    Who would take care of them?

    In “A Junkyard Father” I follow this same idea and principle. A scientist has created sentient toys in some robotic future, and he is confronted with the concept of mortality. When he dies and leaves this world, they’ll be nobody to take care of them. The toys will outlive him, and still require maintenance. He’ll die when they could potentially live for centuries.

    How will they cope? Who will be there?

    You can read “A Junkyard Father” right here.

    As always, you should check out the whole of Altered Reality. They publish great stuff from a variety of voices.

    Thank you for reading my work, and have a nice Wednesday!

    #author #blogging #books #fantasy #fiction #horror #horrorPoetry #literaryHorror #monsters #patrickWMarsh #poem #Poetry #scienceFiction #theGreenlandDiaries #writing
  5. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    Read my Poem “A Junkyard Father” Published on Altered Reality Magazine

    Hello again! I recently had a trifecta of luck at Altered Reality with some poems, and this is my second one that was picked up for publication by them.

    This week the poem is a little different than my previous one. No haunted forest or paradoxical monsters.

    Instead, I choose to focus on an image that has haunted me ever since I watched it. The toy scene in Bladerunner (director’s cut of course) in Sebastian’s attic has stuck with me ever since I watched it back in 2004. I often wonder what would those cybernetic creations do if Sebastian never returned.

    Who would take care of them?

    In “A Junkyard Father” I follow this same idea and principle. A scientist has created sentient toys in some robotic future, and he is confronted with the concept of mortality. When he dies and leaves this world, they’ll be nobody to take care of them. The toys will outlive him, and still require maintenance. He’ll die when they could potentially live for centuries.

    How will they cope? Who will be there?

    You can read “A Junkyard Father” right here.

    As always, you should check out the whole of Altered Reality. They publish great stuff from a variety of voices.

    Thank you for reading my work, and have a nice Wednesday!

    #author #blogging #books #fantasy #fiction #horror #horrorPoetry #literaryHorror #monsters #patrickWMarsh #poem #Poetry #scienceFiction #theGreenlandDiaries #writing
  6. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    Read my Poem “A Junkyard Father” Published on Altered Reality Magazine

    Hello again! I recently had a trifecta of luck at Altered Reality with some poems, and this is my second one that was picked up for publication by them.

    This week the poem is a little different than my previous one. No haunted forest or paradoxical monsters.

    Instead, I choose to focus on an image that has haunted me ever since I watched it. The toy scene in Bladerunner (director’s cut of course) in Sebastian’s attic has stuck with me ever since I watched it back in 2004. I often wonder what would those cybernetic creations do if Sebastian never returned.

    Who would take care of them?

    In “A Junkyard Father” I follow this same idea and principle. A scientist has created sentient toys in some robotic future, and he is confronted with the concept of mortality. When he dies and leaves this world, they’ll be nobody to take care of them. The toys will outlive him, and still require maintenance. He’ll die when they could potentially live for centuries.

    How will they cope? Who will be there?

    You can read “A Junkyard Father” right here.

    As always, you should check out the whole of Altered Reality. They publish great stuff from a variety of voices.

    Thank you for reading my work, and have a nice Wednesday!

    #author #blogging #books #fantasy #fiction #horror #horrorPoetry #literaryHorror #monsters #patrickWMarsh #poem #Poetry #scienceFiction #theGreenlandDiaries #writing
  7. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    Read my Poem “A Junkyard Father” Published on Altered Reality Magazine

    Hello again! I recently had a trifecta of luck at Altered Reality with some poems, and this is my second one that was picked up for publication by them.

    This week the poem is a little different than my previous one. No haunted forest or paradoxical monsters.

    Instead, I choose to focus on an image that has haunted me ever since I watched it. The toy scene in Bladerunner (director’s cut of course) in Sebastian’s attic has stuck with me ever since I watched it back in 2004. I often wonder what would those cybernetic creations do if Sebastian never returned.

    Who would take care of them?

    In “A Junkyard Father” I follow this same idea and principle. A scientist has created sentient toys in some robotic future, and he is confronted with the concept of mortality. When he dies and leaves this world, they’ll be nobody to take care of them. The toys will outlive him, and still require maintenance. He’ll die when they could potentially live for centuries.

    How will they cope? Who will be there?

    You can read “A Junkyard Father” right here.

    As always, you should check out the whole of Altered Reality. They publish great stuff from a variety of voices.

    Thank you for reading my work, and have a nice Wednesday!

    #author #blogging #books #fantasy #fiction #horror #horrorPoetry #literaryHorror #monsters #patrickWMarsh #poem #Poetry #scienceFiction #theGreenlandDiaries #writing
  8. I love when the illusions enter the story in full force. Creating this creepy plot device was tons of fun. Enjoy. The story only gets better, along with the monsters.

    #writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels

    patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.

  9. I know everyone is reeling from these latest entries, but it does get better. This is a dark story, but the happiness and hope is in our ability to change. Even with the Guardian.

    #writing #reading #fiction #books #novels #horror #fantasy #darkfantasy #steampunk

    patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.

  10. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    Read my Poem “Windchimes” Published on Altered Reality Magazine

    Hello! Recently I was lucky enough to have my poem “Windchimes” published by Altered Reality last week.

    This was one of the first horror poems I had written after a long absence from poetry. I started writing poetry again back in the beginning of 2024. The women I was dating at the time was a poet, and she often would send poems for me to read. At the time I was still thinking I could only do one thing as a writer, like self-publish fiction. That isn’t true. You can be varied. You get to practice your craft on multiple highways.

    Anyways, she was curious about my poetry, or if I could even still write it. So, as it happens that sometimes men are simply motivated by women, I decided to try my hand at it, and poetry clicked again after about a decade of absence.

    Windchimes” is about a group of monsters in a haunted forest who hang windchimes in the trees to warn people travelling through that they are there, and that the woods is dangerous. It is about how evil attempts to warn you about its intentions, so you avoid it. Or at least you would try It focuses on how frustrated the evil entities are with this paradox. I love this poem, and I’m happy to see it has a home.

    You can read it right here.

    Also, Altered Reality is an excellent publication. Please take some time to explore its various voices. You can find it right here.

    Thanks for reading!

    #alteredReality #author #blogging #books #fantasy #fiction #horror #horrorPoetry #literaryHorror #literaryMagazine #monsters #patrickWMarsh #poem #poems #Poetry #publications #writing
  11. Happy Monday! Again, new entries every week from my apocalyptic horror series the Greenland Diaries. Enjoy the monsters. They're everything to the story in so many ways.

    #writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels

    patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.

  12. Actor Patrick Muldoon's Demise Linked to Heart Attack

    Actor Patrick Muldoon, known for 'Days of Our Lives', died on April 19, 2026, from a heart attack. He was 57.

    #PatrickMuldoon, #HeartAttack, #DaysOfOurLives, #MelrosePlace, #ActorDeath

    newsletter.tf/patrick-muldoon-

  13. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    The Warehouse Window

    For my sunlight,
    its glass cut through a concrete wall
    the edges crumbled and rocky,
    like an unfinished birthday cake.
    No place for symmetry or neatness
    when testing and receiving
    networking equipment with a candelabra of cords.
    The whir of fans, hard drives,
    circuit boards, modules, and power supplies
    are their own orchestra.

    I’m their repeating crowd for this ensemble
    I have memorized all their
    performances, crescendos, movements,
    choruses, and solos.
    The yoked fluorescent lights,
    stallion forklift, or gluttonous cardboard compactor
    endlessly feasting in the corner
    by the loading dock where
    an occasional wasp wanders inside this mirage
    to die in a papery sleep.

    That sunshine above’s the same
    as in my son’s elementary school window
    sloping through the courtyard where ferns
    and flowerpots hide a dry duck nest.
    The kids named her Simone.
    She has three eggs
    an opaque olive, pearl, and coral.
    They’re blurbs of shell and membrane.
    They wanted to name them too,
    but those dreams weren’t real yet.
    You have to know they’ll live.

    I knew my classroom wall
    beside our courtyard door
    where we pasted, crinkled, and scribbled
    dinosaurs, sloths, and squids
    against paper sorceries of
    marine life, prehistoric countrysides,
    and endless amazon jungles.
    We had our own momma duck too,
    her name long empty amongst almost everything
    I remembered, wondered,
    and dreamed

    in fourth grade.

    #author #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poet #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing

  14. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    The Warehouse Window

    For my sunlight,
    its glass cut through a concrete wall
    the edges crumbled and rocky,
    like an unfinished birthday cake.
    No place for symmetry or neatness
    when testing and receiving
    networking equipment with a candelabra of cords.
    The whir of fans, hard drives,
    circuit boards, modules, and power supplies
    are their own orchestra.

    I’m their repeating crowd for this ensemble
    I have memorized all their
    performances, crescendos, movements,
    choruses, and solos.
    The yoked fluorescent lights,
    stallion forklift, or gluttonous cardboard compactor
    endlessly feasting in the corner
    by the loading dock where
    an occasional wasp wanders inside this mirage
    to die in a papery sleep.

    That sunshine above’s the same
    as in my son’s elementary school window
    sloping through the courtyard where ferns
    and flowerpots hide a dry duck nest.
    The kids named her Simone.
    She has three eggs
    an opaque olive, pearl, and coral.
    They’re blurbs of shell and membrane.
    They wanted to name them too,
    but those dreams weren’t real yet.
    You have to know they’ll live.

    I knew my classroom wall
    beside our courtyard door
    where we pasted, crinkled, and scribbled
    dinosaurs, sloths, and squids
    against paper sorceries of
    marine life, prehistoric countrysides,
    and endless amazon jungles.
    We had our own momma duck too,
    her name long empty amongst almost everything
    I remembered, wondered,
    and dreamed

    in fourth grade.

    #author #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poet #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing

  15. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    The Warehouse Window

    For my sunlight,
    its glass cut through a concrete wall
    the edges crumbled and rocky,
    like an unfinished birthday cake.
    No place for symmetry or neatness
    when testing and receiving
    networking equipment with a candelabra of cords.
    The whir of fans, hard drives,
    circuit boards, modules, and power supplies
    are their own orchestra.

    I’m their repeating crowd for this ensemble
    I have memorized all their
    performances, crescendos, movements,
    choruses, and solos.
    The yoked fluorescent lights,
    stallion forklift, or gluttonous cardboard compactor
    endlessly feasting in the corner
    by the loading dock where
    an occasional wasp wanders inside this mirage
    to die in a papery sleep.

    That sunshine above’s the same
    as in my son’s elementary school window
    sloping through the courtyard where ferns
    and flowerpots hide a dry duck nest.
    The kids named her Simone.
    She has three eggs
    an opaque olive, pearl, and coral.
    They’re blurbs of shell and membrane.
    They wanted to name them too,
    but those dreams weren’t real yet.
    You have to know they’ll live.

    I knew my classroom wall
    beside our courtyard door
    where we pasted, crinkled, and scribbled
    dinosaurs, sloths, and squids
    against paper sorceries of
    marine life, prehistoric countrysides,
    and endless amazon jungles.
    We had our own momma duck too,
    her name long empty amongst almost everything
    I remembered, wondered,
    and dreamed

    in fourth grade.

    #author #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poet #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing

  16. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    The Warehouse Window

    For my sunlight,
    its glass cut through a concrete wall
    the edges crumbled and rocky,
    like an unfinished birthday cake.
    No place for symmetry or neatness
    when testing and receiving
    networking equipment with a candelabra of cords.
    The whir of fans, hard drives,
    circuit boards, modules, and power supplies
    are their own orchestra.

    I’m their repeating crowd for this ensemble
    I have memorized all their
    performances, crescendos, movements,
    choruses, and solos.
    The yoked fluorescent lights,
    stallion forklift, or gluttonous cardboard compactor
    endlessly feasting in the corner
    by the loading dock where
    an occasional wasp wanders inside this mirage
    to die in a papery sleep.

    That sunshine above’s the same
    as in my son’s elementary school window
    sloping through the courtyard where ferns
    and flowerpots hide a dry duck nest.
    The kids named her Simone.
    She has three eggs
    an opaque olive, pearl, and coral.
    They’re blurbs of shell and membrane.
    They wanted to name them too,
    but those dreams weren’t real yet.
    You have to know they’ll live.

    I knew my classroom wall
    beside our courtyard door
    where we pasted, crinkled, and scribbled
    dinosaurs, sloths, and squids
    against paper sorceries of
    marine life, prehistoric countrysides,
    and endless amazon jungles.
    We had our own momma duck too,
    her name long empty amongst almost everything
    I remembered, wondered,
    and dreamed

    in fourth grade.

    #author #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poet #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing

  17. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    The Warehouse Window

    For my sunlight,
    its glass cut through a concrete wall
    the edges crumbled and rocky,
    like an unfinished birthday cake.
    No place for symmetry or neatness
    when testing and receiving
    networking equipment with a candelabra of cords.
    The whir of fans, hard drives,
    circuit boards, modules, and power supplies
    are their own orchestra.

    I’m their repeating crowd for this ensemble
    I have memorized all their
    performances, crescendos, movements,
    choruses, and solos.
    The yoked fluorescent lights,
    stallion forklift, or gluttonous cardboard compactor
    endlessly feasting in the corner
    by the loading dock where
    an occasional wasp wanders inside this mirage
    to die in a papery sleep.

    That sunshine above’s the same
    as in my son’s elementary school window
    sloping through the courtyard where ferns
    and flowerpots hide a dry duck nest.
    The kids named her Simone.
    She has three eggs
    an opaque olive, pearl, and coral.
    They’re blurbs of shell and membrane.
    They wanted to name them too,
    but those dreams weren’t real yet.
    You have to know they’ll live.

    I knew my classroom wall
    beside our courtyard door
    where we pasted, crinkled, and scribbled
    dinosaurs, sloths, and squids
    against paper sorceries of
    marine life, prehistoric countrysides,
    and endless amazon jungles.
    We had our own momma duck too,
    her name long empty amongst almost everything
    I remembered, wondered,
    and dreamed

    in fourth grade.

    #author #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poet #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing

  18. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    “You are the King, and I am your Star”

    It was etched, carved, and bled there
    by you and my uncle.
    A lost language scribbled
    upon your trauma Rosetta Stone.
    Years after you’d moved off
    the street, shack, slum
    and into this real home,
    devoid of rats, rags,
    and abusive fathers.

    It was on a beam in the basement,
    behind an old TV box,
    with dead earwigs in its folds.
    The house once had a garden
    from your mother, my grandmother.
    And those bugs, the clawed ink-drops
    were living everywhere
    their husks, fossil-songs
    to her stalks of cherry tomatoes.

    The wood was creased, parted,
    and curled, as if the vignette had just happened.
    You were still the two little boys
    marking it yours, with the sunlight
    tracing through a ground-level window,
    growing life in a non-chlorophyll pattern
    from 94 million miles away
    a natural spotlight on hope between past and future.

    We found it when I was moving out.
    Another bout of depression, failed
    relationship, and unpaid rent
    for your childhood home
    you bought when grandma died.
    It was a piece of you; something you wanted
    for memory, family, a forever symbol of safety.
    A limb of hope after
    so many emotional dismemberments.

    I could not hold onto it,
    It was slippery, slimy, a dream that didn’t want
    to be held, an eel lurking in the quagmire,
    eternally wriggling away
    beneath the subtlest grasp.
    Your sanctuary was another rubble-sunk Atlantis,
    so now, years after it was sold and lost
    your first glimmer amongst the poverty

    I can at least remember what it said.

    #blogging #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poet #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing

  19. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    “You are the King, and I am your Star”

    It was etched, carved, and bled there
    by you and my uncle.
    A lost language scribbled
    upon your trauma Rosetta Stone.
    Years after you’d moved off
    the street, shack, slum
    and into this real home,
    devoid of rats, rags,
    and abusive fathers.

    It was on a beam in the basement,
    behind an old TV box,
    with dead earwigs in its folds.
    The house once had a garden
    from your mother, my grandmother.
    And those bugs, the clawed ink-drops
    were living everywhere
    their husks, fossil-songs
    to her stalks of cherry tomatoes.

    The wood was creased, parted,
    and curled, as if the vignette had just happened.
    You were still the two little boys
    marking it yours, with the sunlight
    tracing through a ground-level window,
    growing life in a non-chlorophyll pattern
    from 94 million miles away
    a natural spotlight on hope between past and future.

    We found it when I was moving out.
    Another bout of depression, failed
    relationship, and unpaid rent
    for your childhood home
    you bought when grandma died.
    It was a piece of you; something you wanted
    for memory, family, a forever symbol of safety.
    A limb of hope after
    so many emotional dismemberments.

    I could not hold onto it,
    It was slippery, slimy, a dream that didn’t want
    to be held, an eel lurking in the quagmire,
    eternally wriggling away
    beneath the subtlest grasp.
    Your sanctuary was another rubble-sunk Atlantis,
    so now, years after it was sold and lost
    your first glimmer amongst the poverty

    I can at least remember what it said.

    #blogging #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poet #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing

  20. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    “You are the King, and I am your Star”

    It was etched, carved, and bled there
    by you and my uncle.
    A lost language scribbled
    upon your trauma Rosetta Stone.
    Years after you’d moved off
    the street, shack, slum
    and into this real home,
    devoid of rats, rags,
    and abusive fathers.

    It was on a beam in the basement,
    behind an old TV box,
    with dead earwigs in its folds.
    The house once had a garden
    from your mother, my grandmother.
    And those bugs, the clawed ink-drops
    were living everywhere
    their husks, fossil-songs
    to her stalks of cherry tomatoes.

    The wood was creased, parted,
    and curled, as if the vignette had just happened.
    You were still the two little boys
    marking it yours, with the sunlight
    tracing through a ground-level window,
    growing life in a non-chlorophyll pattern
    from 94 million miles away
    a natural spotlight on hope between past and future.

    We found it when I was moving out.
    Another bout of depression, failed
    relationship, and unpaid rent
    for your childhood home
    you bought when grandma died.
    It was a piece of you; something you wanted
    for memory, family, a forever symbol of safety.
    A limb of hope after
    so many emotional dismemberments.

    I could not hold onto it,
    It was slippery, slimy, a dream that didn’t want
    to be held, an eel lurking in the quagmire,
    eternally wriggling away
    beneath the subtlest grasp.
    Your sanctuary was another rubble-sunk Atlantis,
    so now, years after it was sold and lost
    your first glimmer amongst the poverty

    I can at least remember what it said.

    #blogging #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poet #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing

  21. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    “You are the King, and I am your Star”

    It was etched, carved, and bled there
    by you and my uncle.
    A lost language scribbled
    upon your trauma Rosetta Stone.
    Years after you’d moved off
    the street, shack, slum
    and into this real home,
    devoid of rats, rags,
    and abusive fathers.

    It was on a beam in the basement,
    behind an old TV box,
    with dead earwigs in its folds.
    The house once had a garden
    from your mother, my grandmother.
    And those bugs, the clawed ink-drops
    were living everywhere
    their husks, fossil-songs
    to her stalks of cherry tomatoes.

    The wood was creased, parted,
    and curled, as if the vignette had just happened.
    You were still the two little boys
    marking it yours, with the sunlight
    tracing through a ground-level window,
    growing life in a non-chlorophyll pattern
    from 94 million miles away
    a natural spotlight on hope between past and future.

    We found it when I was moving out.
    Another bout of depression, failed
    relationship, and unpaid rent
    for your childhood home
    you bought when grandma died.
    It was a piece of you; something you wanted
    for memory, family, a forever symbol of safety.
    A limb of hope after
    so many emotional dismemberments.

    I could not hold onto it,
    It was slippery, slimy, a dream that didn’t want
    to be held, an eel lurking in the quagmire,
    eternally wriggling away
    beneath the subtlest grasp.
    Your sanctuary was another rubble-sunk Atlantis,
    so now, years after it was sold and lost
    your first glimmer amongst the poverty

    I can at least remember what it said.

    #blogging #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poet #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing

  22. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    “You are the King, and I am your Star”

    It was etched, carved, and bled there
    by you and my uncle.
    A lost language scribbled
    upon your trauma Rosetta Stone.
    Years after you’d moved off
    the street, shack, slum
    and into this real home,
    devoid of rats, rags,
    and abusive fathers.

    It was on a beam in the basement,
    behind an old TV box,
    with dead earwigs in its folds.
    The house once had a garden
    from your mother, my grandmother.
    And those bugs, the clawed ink-drops
    were living everywhere
    their husks, fossil-songs
    to her stalks of cherry tomatoes.

    The wood was creased, parted,
    and curled, as if the vignette had just happened.
    You were still the two little boys
    marking it yours, with the sunlight
    tracing through a ground-level window,
    growing life in a non-chlorophyll pattern
    from 94 million miles away
    a natural spotlight on hope between past and future.

    We found it when I was moving out.
    Another bout of depression, failed
    relationship, and unpaid rent
    for your childhood home
    you bought when grandma died.
    It was a piece of you; something you wanted
    for memory, family, a forever symbol of safety.
    A limb of hope after
    so many emotional dismemberments.

    I could not hold onto it,
    It was slippery, slimy, a dream that didn’t want
    to be held, an eel lurking in the quagmire,
    eternally wriggling away
    beneath the subtlest grasp.
    Your sanctuary was another rubble-sunk Atlantis,
    so now, years after it was sold and lost
    your first glimmer amongst the poverty

    I can at least remember what it said.

    #blogging #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poet #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing

  23. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    I Can’t Change the Sunlight

    First, it was the beams between dust,
    highlighting particles dancing
    in my parent’s basement
    with chocolate carpet and an eyebrow window.
    Where we, old friends and lovers,
    would swap dreams and desires
    until you tearfully realized I couldn’t do anything
    but wrestle with my depression.

    Then, rays of it glittering in jeweled reflections
    during our honeymoon
    on an emerald lagoon, with tropic tips, and
    bows of sand being plucked by Key Largo waves.
    That sediment could never be a keep or castle,
    it was too broken, fragmented,
    and fragile to form any support.
    Just like us.

    Next was the morning slanting through
    the bay window over the couch of our old house.
    A theater seat for our fights, screaming, throwing, thrashing,
    and every detail of my unending depression.
    You, my son, are on my lap, asleep, an infant.
    I’m crying, and the tears sting your forehead.
    I wipe them away, my trauma baptism,
    I have an endless supply.

    This stardust anchor falling through time
    and space, cracking the earth’s atmosphere,
    honing our existence, growing our cells,
    is a cosmic stake piercing my heart.
    It will not end me. I’m always undead.
    Worse, it reminds me honestly
    that this daylight trigger
    will always be there

    as long as I am.

    #ampoetry #author #blogging #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poetry #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing

  24. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    I Can’t Change the Sunlight

    First, it was the beams between dust,
    highlighting particles dancing
    in my parent’s basement
    with chocolate carpet and an eyebrow window.
    Where we, old friends and lovers,
    would swap dreams and desires
    until you tearfully realized I couldn’t do anything
    but wrestle with my depression.

    Then, rays of it glittering in jeweled reflections
    during our honeymoon
    on an emerald lagoon, with tropic tips, and
    bows of sand being plucked by Key Largo waves.
    That sediment could never be a keep or castle,
    it was too broken, fragmented,
    and fragile to form any support.
    Just like us.

    Next was the morning slanting through
    the bay window over the couch of our old house.
    A theater seat for our fights, screaming, throwing, thrashing,
    and every detail of my unending depression.
    You, my son, are on my lap, asleep, an infant.
    I’m crying, and the tears sting your forehead.
    I wipe them away, my trauma baptism,
    I have an endless supply.

    This stardust anchor falling through time
    and space, cracking the earth’s atmosphere,
    honing our existence, growing our cells,
    is a cosmic stake piercing my heart.
    It will not end me. I’m always undead.
    Worse, it reminds me honestly
    that this daylight trigger
    will always be there

    as long as I am.

    #ampoetry #author #blogging #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poetry #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing

  25. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    I Can’t Change the Sunlight

    First, it was the beams between dust,
    highlighting particles dancing
    in my parent’s basement
    with chocolate carpet and an eyebrow window.
    Where we, old friends and lovers,
    would swap dreams and desires
    until you tearfully realized I couldn’t do anything
    but wrestle with my depression.

    Then, rays of it glittering in jeweled reflections
    during our honeymoon
    on an emerald lagoon, with tropic tips, and
    bows of sand being plucked by Key Largo waves.
    That sediment could never be a keep or castle,
    it was too broken, fragmented,
    and fragile to form any support.
    Just like us.

    Next was the morning slanting through
    the bay window over the couch of our old house.
    A theater seat for our fights, screaming, throwing, thrashing,
    and every detail of my unending depression.
    You, my son, are on my lap, asleep, an infant.
    I’m crying, and the tears sting your forehead.
    I wipe them away, my trauma baptism,
    I have an endless supply.

    This stardust anchor falling through time
    and space, cracking the earth’s atmosphere,
    honing our existence, growing our cells,
    is a cosmic stake piercing my heart.
    It will not end me. I’m always undead.
    Worse, it reminds me honestly
    that this daylight trigger
    will always be there

    as long as I am.

    #ampoetry #author #blogging #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poetry #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing

  26. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    I Can’t Change the Sunlight

    First, it was the beams between dust,
    highlighting particles dancing
    in my parent’s basement
    with chocolate carpet and an eyebrow window.
    Where we, old friends and lovers,
    would swap dreams and desires
    until you tearfully realized I couldn’t do anything
    but wrestle with my depression.

    Then, rays of it glittering in jeweled reflections
    during our honeymoon
    on an emerald lagoon, with tropic tips, and
    bows of sand being plucked by Key Largo waves.
    That sediment could never be a keep or castle,
    it was too broken, fragmented,
    and fragile to form any support.
    Just like us.

    Next was the morning slanting through
    the bay window over the couch of our old house.
    A theater seat for our fights, screaming, throwing, thrashing,
    and every detail of my unending depression.
    You, my son, are on my lap, asleep, an infant.
    I’m crying, and the tears sting your forehead.
    I wipe them away, my trauma baptism,
    I have an endless supply.

    This stardust anchor falling through time
    and space, cracking the earth’s atmosphere,
    honing our existence, growing our cells,
    is a cosmic stake piercing my heart.
    It will not end me. I’m always undead.
    Worse, it reminds me honestly
    that this daylight trigger
    will always be there

    as long as I am.

    #ampoetry #author #blogging #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poetry #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing

  27. Patrick W. Marsh @patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com ·

    I Can’t Change the Sunlight

    First, it was the beams between dust,
    highlighting particles dancing
    in my parent’s basement
    with chocolate carpet and an eyebrow window.
    Where we, old friends and lovers,
    would swap dreams and desires
    until you tearfully realized I couldn’t do anything
    but wrestle with my depression.

    Then, rays of it glittering in jeweled reflections
    during our honeymoon
    on an emerald lagoon, with tropic tips, and
    bows of sand being plucked by Key Largo waves.
    That sediment could never be a keep or castle,
    it was too broken, fragmented,
    and fragile to form any support.
    Just like us.

    Next was the morning slanting through
    the bay window over the couch of our old house.
    A theater seat for our fights, screaming, throwing, thrashing,
    and every detail of my unending depression.
    You, my son, are on my lap, asleep, an infant.
    I’m crying, and the tears sting your forehead.
    I wipe them away, my trauma baptism,
    I have an endless supply.

    This stardust anchor falling through time
    and space, cracking the earth’s atmosphere,
    honing our existence, growing our cells,
    is a cosmic stake piercing my heart.
    It will not end me. I’m always undead.
    Worse, it reminds me honestly
    that this daylight trigger
    will always be there

    as long as I am.

    #ampoetry #author #blogging #books #creativeWriting #emotionalWriting #literature #originalWriting #patrickWMarsh #poem #poemOfTheDay #poems #poetry #poetsOnWordpress #spokenWord #writing