Does This Ink Blot Make My Ass Look Big?
Jet black darkness
Reflecting back no colors
Is the temperament
Pareidolia seeks
Curves and jerky continuity
Belie the lies of fluidity
Fencing in the beckoning darkness
When the vacuum peaks
Murky and menacing
Inviting but cold
Resisting but bewitching
What Rorschach mirrors wreak!
How I present
To others, unsightly
Ugliness inside and out
From a blotter of shrieks
A Sonnet To Change
The easel lies neatly packed away. I
try to ignore it, but it accuses.
A memory aches to be brought to life.
This phantom longs to expose abuses.
My dead lavender begs to be thrown out
as I hold on to it for potpourri.
Choosing to ignore the obvious shout,
I display for all passersby to see.
My room is overfilled with paradox.
I decorate the dilapitated,
my furniture is this still unpacked box.
My neglect cannot be overstated!
In unison, the easel and the plant
whisper, "It's a new year. Time to repent."
a Boring class
A white screen reflects back against my glasses-
Glasses
Rarely do any see me with them, so in an irony I suppose I don’t “see” myself in them either
It brings me to reality-
A classroom, a teacher chattering on and on in my ear
My ears covered in headphones
I love math but who can blame when- what problem are we on? The same as from a half hour ago?
Numbers on the board- no- letters
Just letters
When did math only be words rather than numbers
Bright pink sheets, homework sheets that make you go blind to stare at them
So i go back to staring
At the blank white screen in front of me
Pity
A wedding cake, a long white dress, but is it mine? No, I'm sitting at the table at my crushes wedding. I shouldn't have come, but when they both asked me to be the maid of honor I couldn't say no. My best friend, and the guy that I had just met about three months ago that I had feelings for. I didn't want to be there but as a favor to the both of them, who had paid the fee for me to teach Tae kwon do in exchange for lessons was sitting across from me at the bride and grooms table. Everyone is taking selfies and having a good time, but why on earth did I check the yes box on the wedding invite? When the reception was close to done and the bride and groom started to slow dance, as happy as I was for them, I didn't want to watch this anymore. I didn't want to feel alone anymore. The first thing on my to do list was find someone like HIM, who made me entirely happy. I knew that day would come, but for now all I felt was pity.
What I See
I see a room full of students
quietly doing their work.
Hah, psych.
What they really are doing
is just staring mindlessly at their screens,
waiting for the information to jump off the page
and smack them in the face.
They whine and complain
that the work is too hard
when they are expected to color a picture or be creative.
And yet, these children can't even read or write.
All around me,
I see learned incompetence.
And every day
it makes me want to quit.
A symbol
Once upon a time, a man looked into an ink blot. It made a very distinct shape, but it had no real meaning to anyone else. That man, however, saw something special in it. It was a symbol. It could be anything. It could be an omen of death, a beacon of hope, or simply an ink blot.
This man decided it ought to be shared. His reason? Unclear. After all, it was simply an ink blot. Still, for whatever unfathomable purpose, he made dozens upon dozens of photocopies, and then hung them around town. And it didn't take long for people to notice.
The average passerby would stop and stare. What was it? Some... butterfly (As the children said)? Was it a face (as pareidolia struck)? It was just an ink blot. Though, others made much more of it. The extraterrestrial eccentrics saw it as the symbol of their new masters, soon to descend in their flying saucers. The overtly religious deemed it some satanic ritual, and took to gathering the fliers and disposing of them. The police took note of it, fearing it as the sign of some gang or terrorist group. The conspiracy theorists began fervently planning and plotting. And of course, some simply believed a lunatic had gotten his hands on a photocopier (Was this true? Perhaps. But we will never know).
The news made a fuss of it. Who? What? Where? When? And most of all, why? Again, they would never know why, nor even who and what. But where? Everywhere. The symbol spread into every nook and cranny of the city. Like a ravenous beast, the symbol began to shift and spread, consuming the entirety of the country, then continent, then world (And as the UFO fanatics stubbornly insisted, the rest of the universe, where it had even come into contact with the aliens). Experts from around the globe studied it. Did it have certain cultural significance? Was it an ancient symbol, unearthed and brimming with yet-to-be-deciphered knowledge?
Many attempted to give the symbol some kind of meaning. It was a symbol of the gods. It was a symbol of creativity and artwork. It was simultaneously a symbol of free speech and of suppression. Some gave it beauty and value. Still, others took it up as the face of violence, hatred, and destruction.
It was just an ink blot. That was all that the man had spread. Was it his fault? Did he mean for any of this to happen?
But it was just an ink blot.
And this was what I thought of.