Mediocre

First, an introduction. I am Mediocre, an epithet that describes me well. I use all pronouns, so mix it up a little. I'm 18. I post art and poetry :)

All my art: HERE

All my poetry: HERE

(I do not currently do commissions)

I've bore whiteness to a battlefield

Crowded streets

Air thick

With gaseous tears

Walls of hard plastic

Defending pitiless soldiers

Defending marble buildings

And hateful men

Masses of soldiers

Armed with voices and words

faces hidden

Behind masks and makeup

And I see the schism

Between the peaceful chaos

Of the empathetic masses

And the violent order

Of those they defy

So I join this urban combat

I don my handkerchief

And arm my words

To break through the warded hearts

I look up at the sky

Plagued with light

Streetlights and headlights

Obscuring the stars

But this light has always been the exception

Each hidden star suspended

In an infinite darkness

I hope to one day see

But I cannot see those stars

They are drowned by this city

I watch a Robin

From my windowsill

As she hops through the garden

Free as only a bird can be

she lands by my hand

On the peeling paint

Of this old windowsill

And I hope she enjoys the summer

For she may not see another

The sun beams warm

Upon this aging windowsill

And I watch the bird

As it washes me

Curious and afraid

And the Robin flies

Spooked or uninterested

Retreating to the sky

Away from this rotting windowsill

So I watch a Robin

As she flies through the trees

Enjoying the sun

My grandfather told time with a pendulum

Standing motionless in the hall

The stone swinging back and forth

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

Precisely on the hour

He would wake from his stupor

And with a click of his heels

He would speak to me

His pendulum still swinging

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

And he said

The pendulum never lies

Just as time reveals all secrets

All you need is a little patience

As he handed me the pendulum

Ever swinging

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

So I sit here uncertain

Looking at this old clock

But I heed his wisdom

And let my shaking hand settle

So that this pendulum can find its rhythm

And once again swing

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

As the time passes

The pen is mightier than the sword

As it raises others swords

Calling a crusade

For whatever cause is written

And when its words fade

They are rewritten

To rally again

Against a new foe

And this the book of conquest feeds

With every act of hatred

Or fear

It gains a little power

So the pen is mightier than the sword

For blades and their wielders

Are slaves to the words

In the dark

A deer mistakes headlights

For stars

The dazzling light

So beautiful in it's dark eyes

Petrifying

So he stands

Like a statue

As the stars start to fall

But these are not stars

A realization

Just to late

So the deer lies

In the dark

To dine upon a lovers grave

I sit upon a mossy stone

And lean upon your headstone

And I remember your life

As I begin my meal

And I remember my denial

When I first heard

Of your departure

A stubborn rejection

Of the painful truth

And I remember my anger

A rage toward the universe

When I realized you were gone

But my anger did little

And I remember the bargaining

An attempt to trade

Anything in this world

To get you back

But I know you cannot return

And I remember the depression

Like an endless well

Dark and damp

A barrier to all I knew

But I rise from the well

And I now reach an acceptance

As I dine upon your grave

A final meal

I am a caterpillar

Shambling through the world

Waiting till I am large enough

To weave myself a chrysalis

But I am still small

Still slowly growing

Into skin the feels wrong

Like it was made for another

But I keep growing

And my skin is still wrong

For waiting changes little

And I need to change

So I weave my chrysalis

Dissolving my self

In hopes to reform

And flutter away

Memento Mori

Memento Vivere

I know that i will die

But i do not fear mortality

For the threat of oblivion

Reminds me that I must live

Memento Mori

Memento Amoris

I know that i will die

but I disregard oblivion

For death is nothing

In the face of love

Memento Vivere

Memento Amoris

I remember that i live

Each time the shadow of death retreats

I walk the desert

Passing stone statues

Weathered beyond recognition

People forgotten

But not unnoticed

Each one crumbles to dust

Joining it's predecessors in the dunes

None remain when I return

Their legacy forgotten

All but one

The first statue to plague this land

So archaic only the wanderers remember

The first tyrant

The king of kings

But he to is weathered

His legs buckled as they erode

Dropping him to the sand

To lay equal to the others

Nothing more than my shelter

As I make camp for the night

His face

Once immutable

Now lays half buried

Smooth and featureless

A victim of the storm he created

So I walk the desert

Waiting for the last memory to crumble

For the king to finally be forgotten

So that this once fertile land

I realized that I write monologues

Veiled as poetry

A feeble attempt to hide my raving

To dress it as art

Possessed by the ranting

Of the madman trapped

In my subconscious

I rant on the page

Writing a monologue

With the skeleton of a poem

An amalgam of words

But I cannot write monologues

The punctuation slaughters rhythm

Mutilating speech

Tearing away emotion

Reducing it to information

So I write monologues

Veiled as poetry

To save them from the apathy

I fly with the birds

Over the land I once called home

The devine chaos of nature

Devided and defiled

Untill it is not but squares and circles

Regimented nature

I fly with the birds

Over farms and fields

Plows tearing the ground

Like claws through my skin

Destroying the prairie for sustenance

Just as any predator does

I fly with the birds

And I mourn the land

Plagued with this infection

A cancerous mass

Draining life

I did not sleep last night

Too full of self loathing and regret

To allow myself the respite of rest

So I long for unconsciousness

Not just the fitful tossing of sleep

But the permanence of death

If only for an hour

So I wish to sleep as carmilla

Trapped in a coffin

Submerged in blood

Unable to move

Unable to breath

So I sit

Barely awake

Longing for a night of death

To revive me from my sleepless stupor

But I cannot submit to sanguine sleep

I cannot embrace the damp tomb

So I sit sleepless

I wish I was happy in my skin

But I am betrayed by my reflection

It searches

For crystalline puddles

For photographs long forgotten

For lightless screens

To rend my heart

So I hide from cameras

Feel the rain on my face

But never look down

And sleep under the glow of my phone

But you can't hide forever

So I fake a smile

Distract with art and songs

And stop feeling