The Ramblings of a Divided Mind

It's a mess

So make it wet

Wet as it can possibly get.

Then mop and swipe

Here and there

Clean around everywhere.

No more dirt,

Only the wet

Currently ice dragons are invited to target me whenever :D <3

Interesting question, love that you asked it, but not really. There are some poems that if I remember them I'll love the metaphors or feelings in them, love revisiting whatever they processed, but I've written a lot of poems just because it's part of my routine too.

The ones which came to mind considering this today are:

'Mr and Mrs Discobbolos' by Edward Lear

'Boy You Need the Road' spoken/ beat poetry by Joolz

'The Tyger' by William Blake

The world is busy,

Grinding itself down, 

Wearing everything out 

As quickly as new is made.

Life is hectic.

It leaves all kinds of debris

Makes us scramble on

Even if we sweep it away

Brush the dust outside. 

Still we sweep again,

Push the chaos back

Pretend increments help.

It's either a weeping willow for just the vibes of this tree beside water, branches hanging low enough kids pretend to swing on them. It's both playful and protective to me and I love it.

green and blue.

Green because I like having plants to look at so looking for green is often the best way to find them.

An innocuous word

Full of rage to me.

Perhaps it's normal

And everyone says it,

Has to vacuum sometimes,

Or is it hoovering?

Because that's the rage swap,

That vacuum manufacturers hate.

Because the latter is a trademark,

Only relates to branded hoovers,

While vacuums are the item sold.

Ever been yelled vacuum at

All for saying the wrong word?

The world touches us,

Changes us and muddies us,

So we bathe to clean it off,

To decide what will remain.

Our bodies change too,

Sweat because of heat,

Shiver for the cold,

And cling to what we touch,

Bathing might not do much

When the world will reach us again.

Still we bathe and get clean

Let the water fall over me,

Take the dirt to the drain,

Let it flow and drip downwards,

Cleansing any pain.

I'll stand under the beating streams

Seeking warmth or coolness

The shower building space for dreams

And thoughts to convalesce.

So let the water fall again

Hands raw, skin raw,

Pain from cleaning,

Scrubbing everything away.

But it's also important in connecting with strangers.

Today I was going somewhere I've been before on public transport which I haven't done before and a guy who chatted with me about my fan was going to the same place. He helped me know where to get off the bus and where to go from there, then we stuck together until he found his friends.

Heck I even got him into the quieter areas for free in the end cause I had membership and can apparently bring kids in with me because of it. Didn't know that before cause I rarely take kids anywhere.

He was half my age. We both joked that I'd temporarily adopted him but he helped me as much as the reverse. Neither of us had guessed the others age right on looks alone.

So yes, having friends with people who are in different age groups is good, but so is being able to figure out which strangers are likely safe even if they're a different age to you. He figured it out because I had a pride flag. I simply trusted someone to be friendly.

The kitchen is full of flies,

And a weird scent permeates.

I've always called it a death trap

Somehow I think that's forgotten

Part of background noise.

Why would I want to cook in there?

I do the dishes in the bath,

Escape the scent despite the math

Which says that it comes from them.

I know that I could do more

But hell awaits upon that floor.

In every room I have no trust

For blades hidden as if they must

Remind me of those old attacks

Yet I'm questioned over keeping back?

Nothing is placed, only dumped,

Left to kill if distraction takes

All the things those piles make.

Still the kitchen is full of smells and flies