Thu, Apr 16 2015 03:59pm CDT 1
37 Posts
My two primary talents are photography and writing, but writing is my biggest passion. If there's anything I could be arrogant about, it's my writing. As someone with Asperger's Syndrome I've always had difficulties in verbal speech, so I became obsessed with written expression.

It started with just poetry. The dictionary and thesaurus became the two most important books so that I could always find ways of expressing my thoughts and feelings without resorting to cliché. Then I started having strong opinions, so I went from writing only poetry to writing cerebral diatribes on politics, social justice, philosophy and religion.

If anyone would like to read my ramblings you can find a lot of them on my Tumblr page, my poetry on my official website, and practically everything on my Facebook page. I may even post a few things here that I think everyone would appreciate; nothing regarding politics or social issues, though.

I have one article published on Thought Catalog on the problem of Otherkin identity trying to weasel its way under the trans* umbrella. You can read that here: http://tcat.tc/1zZ0B7L

Soon, I will be a staff writer for a new webzine called Trigger Warning, "an online publication for ideological deviants who realize that most other deviants and intellectuals have now lost their ability to see outside the mainstream box of political correctness. We declare that they have lost their radical edge and become slaves to a new type of conformity. Our job is to bring the radical edge back to the intellectual world."

Anyway, please share your writing here, if you will. Vocabulary and excellent grammar are only as important as you make them. It's what you say that matters most, so don't feel intimidated if your work lacks in those areas. Writing is an expression of the soul, and should always be judged by its substance more than its literary finesse.

I will end this post with a poem:

"Ode To Dysphoria"

Such wanton, surreptitious blade
the slow and furrow sweep well played
divides the keep to split the yoke
my mind and body, brutal stroke

This shifting form, the idle flux
To be thyself, the idol crux
Wherefore the time must not elate
when one's true marrow doth not abate?

Through sleepless nights and dawdling days
and tristful dreams like passion plays
I suffer through and see beyond
and will the path to seal the bond

For even as I wail and fret
I carry forth without regret
This passing vessel shall arrive
My journey's end, to feel alive
Thu, Apr 16 2015 04:45pm CDT 2
37 Posts
As simple as it is, it's one of my favorites:

Give In
Sun, Apr 26 2015 08:31pm CDT 3
3 Posts
Here, have some of my Vogon level poetry:

The pleasure of anxiety
being in its far remove
a perpetual huntress

Forwards, backwards
at all moments
present fully

swift lithe arm holds a dagger
ever changing form and mass
one moment a broad baselard
next a tight stilletto

willy nilly
she goes poking,
all the while
whispering this
and that and if

until one gives freely all
effort, skill and strength
to her caprice and glib want
renounces senses and joy
for endless supplication

(for impossible is her placation)

this huntress yelling
“Ango! Ango!”

One Vision of Hell

You wake up everyday refreshed,
Every meal you have is from Le Cordon Bleu,
Every day at the office is nothing but concord and smiles,
Your spouse the most attractive, your house the best sized and equipped,
and everyone you meet is wise and knowledgable,

but when you go to sleep,
you see places stranger and rounder and more mysterious than the ones in your town,
you meet people with arcane careers and esoteric hobbies and boundless enthusiasm,
you are people with six legs made of chitin and can see smells,
you go to the planets around distant stars and picnic on their hills,
and you remember all of it when you wake up.

Tue, Apr 28 2015 12:04pm CDT 4
37 Posts
My article on Issue #4 of Trigger Warning:

Sun, May 3 2015 03:28am CDT 5
37 Posts

I have no idea how old this one is, but it's at least nine or ten years old.
I have a collection of poetry "rejects"; things that I either never finished
or just wasn't satisfied with. I thought this one was okay
and I added a fourth stanza to balance it out.


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