#amwritingpoetry — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #amwritingpoetry, aggregated by home.social.
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Five Years Gone
A companion piece to Nocturnes for Ordinary People The demos are on autoplay on this page before I hit the studio, some are different styles but the albums arch is complete. Also another bonus, attached is my lyric book thats constantly being updated, theres more songs than the final playlist playing, but you can see my work through this past month. Final recording will be alot of work in a actual studio with one I signed a licenses deal with. Some of the demos have basic and repeated […]https://matthewhaubert.wordpress.com/2026/09/07/five-years-gone-poem/
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Four of my submissions were published during the month, as listed in the latest writing update on my blog
https://zeroatthebone.us/post/1q2026/
#amwriting #amediting #amwritingpoetry -
“un-lotused”
I’ve never been one to meditate on regrets
of paths not taken, universes unexplored,
for my regrets are few –when I want something, I show up for it,
I find a way to it or I make one
and the primrose path to success builds upon itselfI would far rather meditate on failures,
iterations where everything when wrong
and then I made something beautiful from the
ashes, lotus petals unraveling, daring to ask if he
loves me or he loves me or loves me not,
than the zest of life left unnoticed-Allēna 11/2/2025
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Hi, everyone. My name is Peri.
I wrote this today:
I'm the result of two generations of fire, at least
my grandfather saw horrors he likes to laugh
about and won't talk about directly, but
he replicates them compulsively when
he's stressed out or bored
my mother does the same thing and laughs
about it too, but watches me for
the same signs, the same crazy, like a ticking
time bomb although often she is the cause
of the insanity she fears so deeply at her core.
I want to say that the shows I like
hit too close to home, but they
play out like my life did for twenty four years.
pyromania burned through my mother's
line, held my grandfather prisoner.
my mother had her own compulsions,
not just fire. her hands, cold as death, were
always busy, always searching, always
grasping for another handhold, another tool,
another soul, another project. her hazel eyes
knew every entrance and exit, how to find
and get leverage, and she was plagued by
the nightmares, too. under the constant
stress of a dying husband and warring children,
her mind held her hostage for eighteen years,
forcing her to build fortress after fortress,
light fire after fire, see threat after threat,
run and run.
and she saw me as a blackened mirror
of herself, a shell burned through.
she followed me like a firewatcher,
as though I was a bomb primed to explode.
my compulsions are not hers, but the terror
is the same. the mechanism is the same
or is similar enough to be indistinguishable.
but I am here to quench the fire and the thirst
and I might be crazy but I'm here to do things
differently, so watch me if you must
but be prepared for me to
douse
your
flame
-Peri 9/25/2025 -
I just wrote this. It’s called “hurricane lazarus”, and it’s inspired by a conversation I had with a very powerful soul I met yesterday.
I was born in an otherwise normal middle of june at the tail end of tornado alley. I’m a gemini, scorpio moon, half air, half water, all storm and
tremendous force. say what you want about astrology, scorpios, or geminis, I’ll tell you what I know. I learned as a young child why they name storms after people.perhaps some seal or some levee broke in an unseen place upon my birth, because death would dog my every step
and I swear on my father’s grave that hell
followed after that.nine months after I was born, I got sick twice,
one week apart. the first virus took out my
immune system, the second took out my heart.
but I was a fighter. they hooked me up to a
machine that would breathe for me. one dose
of the meds they gave me would knock
my full grown, linebacker sized father out for
ten hours because I refused to go quietly,
like a category five hurricane slamming into
a coastline during the worst season on record.
I ripped through death and pain so goddamned
hard that death had a near me experience.then came a sepsis scare. then a stroke. then
near starvation. each time I wailed a hurricane,
hundred fifty seven mile an hour straight line winds.
death learned to hate to see me coming.
all before I was three.I learned to watch the storms that mirrored my
soul, learned to love the wind and the water,
find peace in the howling and the sickly blue green sky. in 2000, two tornadoes tore through
my city, devouring chunks of the skyline. there
are still signs and monuments there if you know
where to look.nobody thought I’d live to see eighteen, twenty one, twenty three. they bet against me, calling me
crazy, plotting against me, betraying me when I needed them most. I learned to become inevitable, to channel my force into words, into song, into low pressure systems of my own.
so their plans didn’t hold.
their levees didn’t hold. they cracked under their
own weight and were washed away in the storm
surge when the people didn’t evacuate in time.when I was twenty five, a boyfriend called me
what I was, a barely contained hurricane.
I lived with a lover when I first moved to
milwaukee who worked on emergency alert
machines. I learned the names of my surroundings when storms
rolled in with the same passion in which I
learned about her, the same way I studied the
storms when I was younger.
and I wonder if someday
someone will name a hurricane after me.-Allēna 9/22/2025
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I didn’t mean to get overthrown…
This piece was inspired by my poem “migraine”, which is published in full here.-Allēna
#amwritingpoetry #chapbook #darkacademia #lgbtqwriter #poetry #queer #zine #zinester
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Whispering spirit trees
Hold every trauma
A boy whose joy was taken
Trapped in the Spanish moss
When emotions are finally released
The moss dried up
will disappear in flames
In a flash
But it is not yet time
To release your heartache
Your dreams
Your love
Not for centuries -
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