Thursday, December 29, 2016

The Mistake of Hope

Sometimes it bunches up like water,
filled with debris of ignorance and naivety:
childish dreams with even more foolish expectations,
as if we haven't all been here before.
So the aquifer is drained,
the channels washed,
the priests are brought in,
yet again,
with the same persistence,
making the same mistakes again,
for the sake of a painless transition.
And here we are again.
Hoping.
Like children expecting a fountain to spout toys.

-o0o-

Wednesday, December 28, 2016

"Used Goods" on Poetry Potion

Please head over to Poetry Potion to see my Poem Used Goods.

-o0o-

Dreamer

restless dreamer
I see you
with open eyes
who sees the world
in ways unthought
we can shape it
remake this world anew
light it in fairer lights still
twist and bend and skew
queer the world so
in dreams of every hue
we brought this world into being
we can smash it
recreate it
and nobody would be any the wiser

-o0o-

Be Very Afraid of Old White Men

Be very afraid of old white men,
they've achieved much on the bones of others.
They know the hows and when,
to make widows of wives, and nestless mothers.

Be very afraid of old white men,
they've bought the land with money they stole,
careless again and again,
stealing gold, diamond, and coal.
Be very afraid of old white men,
with chains that still make slaves:
shackled the skin of colour, and then,
dance upon their graves.

-o0o-

Sisyphus

it doesn't have to be pointless
the effort could be heartless
time your efforts, keep your heart still
roll the stone back up the hill
so the stone returns to the valley
you aim it at your enemy

-o0o-

Tuesday, December 27, 2016

Vessel

I would gladly hold you
for tonight
be keeper of your sorrow
hold your tears till tomorrow
guard you against the bitter night
that would have us

Just for now
to hold
to warm us from the cold
to love
a tryst for the evening
something simple

I'll be your vessel
for tonight
whisper in your ear
tell you stories of tomorrow
and the good times
and the summer sun

-o0o-

Upload

having left this to the last minute
I find myself sitting here
furiously willing the data
to swim upstream
so I can get going
damned fish will never swim directly

-o0o-

Agoraphobia

I really can't stand large groups.
I want to crawl out of my mouth,
and run away naked,
so my body is there dealing with it,
and I can be alone,
up a tree,
eating someone's cat.

-o0o-

Monday, December 26, 2016

An Ode to Fatphobia

Fuck your gluten free bread and your protein shake.
Fuck your fat free milk and skim yogurt.
Fuck your fad diets that kill my kin.
Fuck your bro cohorts that kill my kin.
Fuck your cartoons that show fat people as evil.
Fuck your cartoons that show evil people as fat.
Fuck your, "I didn't mean it that way."
Fuck your, "I'm not a bigot my brother is fat."
Fuck your, "skinny tastes like..."
Your skinny tastes like being an arsehole and I've eaten a few in my time.
Fuck your concern with my sex life while I fuck your father.
Fuck your fetishisation.
Fuck your cisheteronormative sexualization of my body.
Fuck your dismissal of my body.
Fuck your ableism.
Fuck your classism.
Fuck your white veganism.
Fuck your moral parading.
Fuck you as if you know.
Fuck your willful ignorance.
Fuck your, "I don't think fat people should work in the airline industry."
Fuck your, "I'm only saying this because."
Fuck your epidemics.
Fuck your twisted statistics.
Fuck your alarmist newspapers.
Fuck your unsolicited advice.
Fuck your assumption at my life.
Fuck your erasure of my actual struggles.
Fuck your privilege and entitlement.
Fuck your opinion and fuck your concern.
Fuck your pretence at my health.
Fuck your pretence at your good will.
Fuck your tears.
Fuck your, "but..."
Fuck you.
Fuck the horse you rode in on.
Nevermind, I ate that too.

-o0o-

Upon Receiving Bad News

The Lady sat at her table,
her skin cold, dress teal,
frost forming around every finger,
as she sipped.
She smiled, waiting,
her dinner came,
and all eyes were on her.
She ate alone.
She waited all night,
as a bloody man entered,
confronted by the maître d',
he was bleeding out.
A fingersnap,
windows and glasses burst.
Some eardrums too.
-as the bloody man,
stepping over the writhing body of the gatekeeper,
stood before his lady.
"My Queen," he said.
"My Hierophant," she said.
"I come with what you seek."
He kneeled, still bleeding,
as she leaned towards him,
a single kiss.
A flurry of light and he was gone.
"That is unfortunate news," she said.
She opened her purse,
retrieved a fortune,
and placed it upon her table.
The maître d' stumbled towards her,
and before he could speak a word,
she had sprouted wings,
like a crysanthemum in bloom.
"The money, for your efforts."
His eyes flared seeing the money,
but she was gone by the time he looked her way again.

-o0o-

Unpack

Take yourself to pieces.
Unpack each piece.
Put it outside of yourself,
and you will be empty.
Then take each piece,
look at it,
see if it belongs.
If it doesn't throw it away.
If it belongs put it back,
but carefully,
and this time,
the right way up.
Still yet we might find our flaws.
Still yet we might heal them.
Each day,
unpack each part.
Each day,
remake yourself in your best image.


-o0o-

Sunday, December 25, 2016

Strangers.

he was upset with me
called me a freak
said that freaks like me belong in cages
locked up away
away
far away
he screamed the words through tears
because he so desperately wanted
what I had
so desperately wanted to do
what I could
but I couldn't allow him
to get away with what he did
so I left him there
forcing him to come back
on his own
with his own feet
so when he crossed the threshold
he came back having forgotten
and he smiled
and greeted me
as if we were strangers

-o0o-

Saint of Stories

kitten tells a story
of a long time ago
when they played in fields
fields made of green glass
and the wind sang
and she would run her fingers
over the oval pipes
and the earth would sing to her
hail kitten
saint of stories
she who sings like heaven
that the choirs of angels weep
hail kitten
saint of stories
she who sings like heaven
that the choirs of angels weep

-o0o-

Hope

headlong into a furnace
with the promise that we'd be stronger for it
and we're ashes and crushed bones
and nothing to show for our suffering
curtailed lives and hopes
we've grown into something
unexpected
we rose from the ashes
as monsters to the smiths
they who put us into the flames
they didn't know what hit them

-o0o-

Thursday, December 22, 2016

She Wears The Jewellery That I Make

a trove of silver for my heart's sake
the gems I form and bake
deep in my gut, formed by my very soul's quake
she wears the jewellery that I make

she wears my tears like a crown
and she performs each smile, each grimace, each frown
like a prima ballerina resplendent in a pearly gown
spun around as she goes about town

the men catcall, tell her to perform
but she's lightning, a raging storm
she's the rain that comes down swift and warm
each movement a hornet's swarm

and she dances like the devil's there
a kick, a turn, a flounce, a flare
today wrapped in silk, tomorrow bare
she's your lover, manager, lawyer, au pair

so she'd shine like Eos with saffron wings
I gave her shoes my own heart strings
and tied her dress with mountain springs
and bound her hair with golden rings

I gave what no one else could take
each a song I sang for her own sake
that men would bow and beg and shake
she wears the jewellery that I make

-o0o-

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

Lift

she's here in a flash
with her hand strong
crashing through
the broken glass
to hold me up
to hold me when I cry
to hold me safe
in troubled times
and she smiles
faintly
from the other side of the mirror

-o0o-

Sir

I haven't slept,
And a busy day stands tapping his foot,
Like a teacher expecting a report,
On a book I haven't read.
Sorry, sir.
I need more time to prepare.
Time to eat a night,
So I can stand a morning.

-o0o-

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Ring

Ring. Ring. Ring.
The old bell that calls me home.
Ring the bell that cracks the day into pieces.
Ring the hour in which all are cordoned and shepherded,
pushed through doors like hourglass sand, and the withered hand cannot hold.
The children do as children are told,
bend or break,
and break they often do.
As I have daily.
Ring the ears of bad advice,
tinnitus and trite maxims that serve neither hungry nor wretched,
but master is looking good as he rings his dinner bell.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Call the reaper.
Burn the fields.
Start again.
There is nothing here.
Nothing left.
Rats have eaten everything.
And we are strangers in forgotten places.
How we lost ourselves in self hate.
Pretending to be men,
so we might be worthy to beg for scraps.
And days have become a manic seesaw of here there everywhere,
outrageous joy followed by this hollow of sorrow,
Around. Around. Around again.
Driven into the ground a corkskrew,
and off pops the head of another sibling.
When might I be next.
Will there be singing at my day?
I don't know.
I wish I could say I cared.

-o0o-

Over

I'm tired of good.
The things of ought and should.
I'm settling for good enough right now.
I've carried a frown and sweat on my brow,
for so long that they've carved valleys into me.
I lie brittle as a hollow tree.
Tears and sweat bring nothing but thirst.
So for a moment - me first.
Me first.

-o0o-

Monday, December 12, 2016

Abyss

I wrote a thousand names on your skin
each a praise worthy of gods
I crowned you lord and saviour
with words older than either of us
but you didn't understand
so the words faded on your skin
like scars
and my words were a forgotten breath
and I was forgotten
an old relic in the mouth of the abyss

-o0o-

Wednesday, December 07, 2016

Body Politic

body politic in a nation of one
a play in three acts

act one
where a child wakes up into life
with their lands invaded
by entitled abusive hands that
to this day
are entitled to my sovereignty
with words like
"honour your father"

act two
in which I am a resistant force
in my own body
punished for being self
where the uniform of conscription is male
and the invading empire prevails
with slogans like
"under this roof"

act three
in which independence is tenuous
but the emperor is gone
and the propaganda remains
bruises and scars
alongside
insults and abuse
with my borders
still rebuilding after a long war

epilogue
my cities are shining a bit more now
my streets are femme
and the houses purple
there is scaffolding everywhere
but rebuilding is slow
and sometimes painful

-o0o-

Thursday, December 01, 2016

Apologia from a Bigot

"I'm sorry 'sir'...
I know you'd prefer,
some pronoun other than him or her."

"But I self-appoint,
my self annoint,
myself judge and barrister."

"Convenient, yes?
Comfort to my laziness,
to strip you of name and dress."

"In the end, you see,
it's all about me,
I don't say these things to oppress."

-o0o-

Friday, November 25, 2016

Floodwater

Queer is the dam that powers their homes.
Queer is their denial with mortar and stones.
Queer is the crack at the base of the wall wall.
Queer is the flood that came down on them all.
Queer is the river that cuts through their street.
Queer is the water that dams at their feet.
Queer are their children who learned how to swim.
Queer are the songs that they sing like a hymn.
Queer are their houses being worn away.
Queer are the trees under which the dogs play.
Queer are the fields renewed by the flood.
Queer is the water paid for with blood.
Queer is the rust and the broken glass.
Queer are the weeds that grow in the grass.
Queer is the valley where houses once stood.
Queer is the river, queer is the wood.

-o0o-

I restored this poem. No word back from whether it would be published or not.

Sunday, November 13, 2016

Craft

Words cut, as the tongue is a blade.
Teeth stitch and lips seal.
Marvel at the things I made.
A kiss to kill, a word to heal.
I have woven worlds out of "hello",
by the mere mention of my tongue.
When I said it, it was so,
and the world was sprung.

-o0o-

Tuesday, November 01, 2016

Survival

Sally's awake in the night.
Sally's awake in the day.
Sally's bruised from the fight.
Sally can't come out to play.
Sally is sick with the pox.
Sally's got blood in her hair.
Sally is hand-me-down socks.
Sally is worn threadbare.
Sally won't tell of her tears.
Sally is happy, serene.
Sally was missing for years.
Sally just tries to keep clean.

-o0o-

Friday, October 14, 2016

New

Something new,
crept up, chewed, spat out,
from the old world,
that place of hatred,
like a leather suitcase.
Stinking of time.
Covered in grime.
I guess you, like them,
weren't expecting us.
A dress with an unsewn hem,
a single eye like a gem in the rough,
here for a moment,
gone in a puff.
Did we frighten you?
Are we so terrible?
And certainly you didn't think,
we were gone forever?
Our sun is a new sun.
Our war long since won.
Of course you wouldn't understand the cost,
of a war you never knew you lost.

-o0o-

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

1994

ticker tape tin soldier
and bobby blue
come with a gun for you
reinforcing old violence
just as a reminder
so you know who your superiors are

old men in moth-eaten gowns
fighting to be relevant
with moth-eaten frowns
and a wagging finger
old crocodile reminiscent

and the new kids
fighting an old war
their parents once fought for
but abandoned in the name of comfort
a disingenuous compromise

ring a ring o’protest
pockets full of unrest
click-bang. click-bang.
we all fall down

-o0o-

"Peace without Justice is Tyranny."
~William Allen White

Tuesday, October 04, 2016

Ice Cream Rant

Ice cream...
why is my night devoid of ice cream?
Oh cruel world,
you, that spits in my eye -
with your fist curled,
jeering at me as the hours pass by.
Me, oh my: perchance to dream.
Someone give me ice cream.

Isn't my poetry so fucking deep and meaningful and moving... What? Don't look at me that way? It's 1 in the morning here :P
-o0o-

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Invocation of Winter

I will do tonight what I hate,
reduce myself to empty state.
Unheart myself, dislodge the clot;
see the pain but feel it not.
shush my choirs, dispel my covens;
dispassion my furnaces and ovens.
Cool my soul to ice and flint,
make emotions rare and skint.
Free my tongue of emotive tastes,
dry my lands like salty wastes.
Unhuman me to still the pain,
so at least this night I might remain.
Winter steal it from my chest,
so I might find some time to rest.
Winter pray my heart to keep,
here to lay me down to sleep.

-o0o-

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Behind the Wheel

I've always held a mild contempt,
for folks who say,
"when you grow up,
you'll no longer care,
for what others think of you."

It's ignorant in two respects.

Firstly,
I have grown up.

Secondly,
I grew up precisely because I knew,
that there were people,
who's thoughts of me,
could have prevented me,
from ever growing up.

Growing up care-free is a luxury,
a privilege.

Just because your streets,
are calm and empty,
don't tell me to walk blindfolded,
over the tumultuous highways,
that you don't even know exist.

Don't pretend that cars,
don't exist,
because the headlights,
aren't facing in your direction.
Don't pretend vehicular homicide,
doesn't exist,
because you've never been run over before.
Don't pretend blood,
doesn't exist,
just because you've never spilt any.

Especially,
from your vantage point,
behind the wheel.

-o0o-

Tuesday, September 06, 2016

To Heal with Hate

You that peddle flesh as freight!
Filleted, sliced, and stuffed with hate!
Will corpses rise and live again?
Bewitched by bigotry and "amen"?
Are wounds healed and bones unbroken,
by skin that's white or polished token?
Are children saved from evil here,
by invoking evil there?
-shanked off the rotisserie spear
to be otherwise laid bare?
You can't invoke your children's blood,
to justify your acts of hate.
You can't use their ashes to justify,
your white supremacist state.
You are the violent hand that cuts,
the whips that beat, the clubs that break.
You can't invoke your violence here,
and say it was for your children's sake.
You drove the wheel that brought us here.
You fanned the flames that stoke a war.
What battle could you possibly wage,
to raise such "peace" that you fight for?

-o0o-


CW: Rape of children, Racism


This was inspired by this hateful blog written by some racist moron using the bodies of raped children to justify her racism:


and my response:



Friday, August 26, 2016

Ballad of the Green Man

I wrote this for a D&D session we’re playing tomorrow. I’m bastardizing the D&D mythos quite a bit, but I tend to do that. A lot.



cast him into Ithland down
the green man fell, the green man fell
shattered was his princely crown
the green man fell, the green man fell

disobeyed his father’s ways
the green man fell, the green man fell
Obad Hai was bleak for days
the green man fell, the green man fell

Kernus fell from holy glades
the green man fell, the green man fell
for consort with unholy shades
the green man fell, the green man fell

in hopes that he may start afresh
the green man fell, the green man fell
his father bound him to his flesh
the green man fell, the green man fell

hidden in his woodland henge
the green man fell, the green man fell
the bitter sprite swore revenge
the green man fell, the green man fell

and there forever he would be
the green man fell, the green man fell
unless some daft soul set him free
the green man fell, the green man fell

-o0o-



Tuesday, August 16, 2016

To Summon the Demon

Oh, it's simple.
The incantation to bring the creature,
immune to prayer, crucifix, or preacher,
...or fire.
That spirit of desire encased in flesh:
fat, juicy, hungry for more.
Is that what you're looking for?
Or after years of beatings,
years of being shamed,
shaped by you, you found that
the thing could not be tamed?
And you named it Anathema,
all because you couldn't handle,
kicked it out with bell, book, and candle,
but it's such a pity that it should snap at you
how cruel that thing should be to bite,
at the hand that feeds the dog's spite.
And you with careless words,
haphazard bigotry, casual hate,
for the next eight hours straight,
find yourself in the shadow,
as it watches you sleep,
your bedside to keep.
And if perchance you should not wake,
this animal comes, your soul to take.
In all things I wish you this one certainty:
know this, cretin, in all you do,
when you spend hatred like currency,
I see you.
I see you.

-o0o-

Thursday, August 11, 2016

A Letter to the Latest Manchild (published on Poetry Potion)

Hey guys.

I have another poem up on Poetry Potion, you can read it HERE.

Love
Charl


-o0o-

Sunday, July 31, 2016

The Gods' Men

the gods' men
mouthpieces of mistrust
that recite the virtues of women
women made chattel by scripture
women you've bent to your patriarchy
women you supposedly protect
women you beat in secret
the good wife
and virtuous daughter
you that have made us other
you that have gendered men and women
as fundamentally different
you that see women as servants of men
you that see transgender people as subversive freaks
you that don't see nonbinary people at all
you and your gods
and your scripture
that write submission and hierarchy into your hearts
hatred made manifest
of course I mistrust you
and everything you say
you praise our virtues
if our virtue is founded in serving you
you fear our liberation
because everything you are
is grounded in our oppression
you are the reason I disbelieve in your gods

-o0o-

Friday, July 29, 2016

Stitch

I stitched words to my skin
the likes of which you'd never utter
I sewed them on like crosswords
so each meets each
so you can read me
any which way you like
at your own risk
because when morning comes
you'll have read my scars
onto your own skin
into your own mind
and we will share them
like a secret word
shared between intimate partners
woven into the sheets
and you couldn't say
whether you knew this yesterday
or whether it's all new to you

-o0o-

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Cleromancy v0.1

Cleromancy
V0.1
by
Charl Landsberg

Introduction:

Cleromancy is a game played on a chessboard (or any square grid) with polyhedral (role playing) dice, including the d4, d6, d8, d10, d12, and d20, (the d100 is not used in this game, but can be used as a makeshift d10 since it is the same thing for all intents and purposes.) Each dice represents a unit that can be summoned. The number of sides on the dice is equal to the total health of the unit. As health is lost per unit the player can keep track of health lost by turning the dice to indicate current health at any given point. If a unit’s health is depleted to one point it can no longer move, but it can continue to do damage. If a unit’s health is depleted to zero the unit is removed from the board.

What you’ll need:

1) Dice. Each player has to have the same dice pool available to them. So if one player only has one set of dice then this is the maximum dice pool for each player. Ideally three sets of dice per player will work well. As explained later only 1d12 and 1d20 are necessary per player. For basic versions of this game (see Party) you can use 1d6, 1d8, and 1d10. Negotiate with one another, share dice to expand the possible pool, and just be fair.

2) A set of mana counters. Mana is generated in each round of the game and counters will be necessary to keep track of mana gained and spent. I have these half flattened red and blue marbles that work very well.  Mana has to be shown at all times. Mana can be exchanged between players if there are more than two players. For basic versions of this game you will not need to keep track of mana.

The Units:


The Scion (d4)
4 HP
It costs 2 mana to build.
It generates 1 mana each round.
It can move 1 square each turn in any direction.
It can do 2 damage.
It has a damage range of 2.
It has to remain within 1 move of the Keep at all times.
It can spend its turn healing another unit for 1 health instead of generating it’s mana that round.

The Tribune (d6)
6 HP
It costs 3 mana to build.
It can move 1 square in any directions.
It can do 2 damage.
It has a damage range of 1.

The Magus (d8)
8 HP
It costs 5 mana to build.
It can move 3 squares but only in straight lines.
It can do 1 damage.
I has a damage range of 3.

The Consul (d10)
10 HP
It costs 7 mana to build.
It can move 2 squares in any direction.
It can do 2 damage
It has a damage range of 2.

The Titan (d12)
12 HP
Each player can only have one Titan in play at any given time.
It costs 10 mana to build.
It can move 1 square but only up / down / left / right, no diagonal movement.
It can do 5 damage.
It has a damage range of 1.

The Keep (d20)
20 HP
Each player can only have one Keep per game.
Generates 2 mana per round.
Can summon a unit, units appear at any square immediately next to the Keep.
Cannot Move / no damage.

Game Order:

At the beginning of the game each player rolls a d20 to see who starts.

Each player then spends their first turn summoning their Keep (d20) onto the board. A Keep (d20) may not touch the edge of the board.

Mana generation at the beginning of each consequent turn.

Units are summoned into play after mana generation.

Two units may move per round.

At the end of each round each of that player’s units may deal damage to any enemy units within its reach up to the value of its damage. So a Consul (d10) can do 2 damage, if two enemy units are within its range (2), the player can choose to either deal 2 to either of the enemy units, or 1 to each unit. The Titan can deal 4 damage, if it were in range of 2 enemy units, it can deal 4 damage to either enemy, or 2 / 2 or 3 / 1.

Once damage has been dealt no further moves may occur and the player’s turn is over.

The default game ends when a player has destroyed all other enemy Keeps or all other units.

Variations on Game Play:

Storm the Keep: Default game. Destroy the enemy keep.

Annihilation: Destroy all enemy units.

Expand: The chess board can be too small for more complex games. Try a bigger grid. This may be entirely essential if you are going to play with more than 3 players or plan on longer games.

Rush: Gain 5 mana per round from the Casle (d20) instead of 2.

Party: Start the game with just one Tribune (d6), one Magus (d8), and one Consul (d10) per player. Game ends when all opponent units have been killed.

Expedition: each player starts with 19 mana and can purchase Tribunes (d6’s) at 3 mana, Maguses (d8’s) at 5 mana, and Consuls (d10’s) at 7 mana. Any mana not spent is wasted.

Scorcher: The Keep only generates 1 mana per turn. Scions (d4) cost 5 mana to make. Only one piece may move a turn. Only one piece may deal damage a turn.

Hexed: Each player has only one set of dice (1d4, 1d6, 1d8, 1d10, 1d12, 1d20) in their dice pool.

Mortal: Each piece may only be summoned once. Once it dies it is removed from your dice pool for the rest of the game. If you have agreed on two 2d4 you may only summon two Scions (d4). If they are killed, then you cannot summon them again that game. (this can be used in conjunction with other rules too.)

Law of the Land: Make up your own rules.

Fate: Include an additional d20. Each time damage is dealt by a piece, a player rolls the d20. If the player rolls a 20 the unit does double damage. If the player rolls a 1 the unit does damage to itself.

Future Endeavours:

This game is still in its early days. Expect developments to the rules, addons, special moves, etc…

Friday, July 22, 2016

Dice

that little dance with circumstance
a roll to catch a look at chance
what little dreams we scratch from this
to steal a kiss and stand askance
as if we could look beyond the veil
and see where we had gone amiss
as if numbers could be our salvation
we give such weight to numeration

-o0o-

Thursday, July 21, 2016

Under the Tree

you jeer at fat bodies
but turn to me
saying
you would never
never
never say such a thing about me

I believe you
you would never say such a thing about me
not to my face
you’re far too much of a coward

because all you see is fat
your eyes on my bones
your eyes on my skin
your eyes on my fat
your eyes see one thing
one story
that single story 
that you’ve been glutting on 
your whole life
so your jeers and barbs 
have taken on your singular story

when you jeer 
at fat bodies that aren’t me
you speak 
with the same voice 
of the jeers and barbs running 
like ladder scars up my waistline
you tell me 
my cuts are not caused by your knife
when you’ve spent a lifetime
sharpening your blade 
under the tree 
where we hang ourselves

-o0o-

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Tipp-Ex

high school days
scratching Tipp-Ex off my fingers
rather cause them to bleed
than be caught doing something girly
by the man who beat you for so much as stepping out of line
and now I've graduated to much shinier lacquers
and the panic still sets in
and I have to calm myself down
get the thinners out
to stop myself from biting
scratching
clawing
till the blood flows

-o0o-

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

A year ago...

Sandra Bland died today
but long ago
the hurt is still in the faces of her siblings
the wound is still so raw
and her siblings die
her parents die
still
now
like it digs up old graves
and she's here again
as if she died yesterday

-o0o-

Cochineal

we've tried 
for so long
to scrub the queer from us
like trying to scrub dye from a cloth
only to rub it in 
deeper
so much 
that our hands bleed
that our nails are impregnated
dye seeping into our cuticles
running into the creases of our knuckles
and the folds of our hands
so much 
that even the fake fortune teller
can see that queer runs deep 
into our future
through our veins
so whether we paint it on
or wash it off
we are queer
no cure to absolve us
no gods to forgive us
no laws to ban us
we've run into the veins of society
reminding it
that we are like Cochineal
crush us
and we'll just make more colour
we're a part of the cloth now
we are the clothes you wear
the curtains you drape
the bed sheets you fuck on
the upholstery of your car
we're not adjacent
we're intrinsic
and no bigot can undo that
spill our blood
and you will only be reminded of your own

-o0o-

Sunday, July 10, 2016

Purple Pt 2

...also it's my birthday :)

-o0o-

Saturday, July 09, 2016

Purple


-o0o-

and the text:

I grew up pretending to be blue.
Pretending to be Apollo with his sky’s hue.
Daddy’s favourite. Because maybe...
...maybe if I stole a leaf from a man’s book,
I could become the things I took.
Not queer as one as they 'mistook'?
But I’m not him and that’s not me,
so I threw myself at red.
Queer as blood. Dense as lead.
Unmoving anger that flung me there,
burning passion inside my head,
that ate me up and left me dead,
a shell used up, naked and bare,
and I twisted,
queered,
unbecame the expectation,
and embraced the fault,
became the in/between,
unman,
unwoman,
thing,
I named myself whole.
With incantations that roll,
off my tongue with spit,
off my pen with inks,
and became the hex, the jinx.
And as for what Apollo stole,
who cares what that fucker thinks.

-o0o-

Thursday, July 07, 2016

Twice bitten, still not shy.

but you were there with your wit and charms
and your winning smile and your well built arms
so when I caught up with your little game
you were off again and I was still the same
and I just lay there in my blood on the floor
rehashing the lessons I should have learnt before
with those guys who set off all the alarms
with their winning smiles and their well built arms

-o0o-

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Poem for Dean

like the hydra 
you grow more plentiful 
yet far wittier.

like lantana 
you sprout more vigorously 
yet far prettier.

like comments 
below a Steve Hofmeyr article 
you are endless and yet much more wise.

and more rare
than all the world's gems you are
than you will ever realise.

-o0o-

A silly little poem I wrote for a friend in a comment on their Facebook feed while we were speaking of their persistence and their willpower to succeed in the light of challenges they face. It's a longer story than that, but this will have to do.

-o0o-

Monday, June 27, 2016

Falling in Love

people write songs about love
happy love, sweet love, warm love
distilled love, kosher love, two percent with added calcium love
dove love, above love, I can't believe this isn't butter love
love that comes from Hallmark cards
and saccharine aphorisms of affection
that often miss the point entirely
sweethearts wreathed with roses
holding hands on a bench
where holding hands is just that
a mutual gesture in sticky solemnity
that risks nothing but intimacy
but I've never experienced love like that
my love was harsh and loud, bold and proud
eager to hide, eager to show
here and there, ebb and flow
entirely too quick and entirely too slow
far more stark than the Valentine's pink glow
passionate and deep, creeping at times
and at times vaulting at you head on
to find body and soul bruised and sated
to find yourself beached like a whale
on the shores of your desires
entirely fed, entirely stranded
and still
even years later
wondering
what the fuck happened?

-o0o-

I Worry about my Dogs

I worry about my dogs
as if they would starve
when I was away
so I leave an extra handfull of food
just in case I didn't come back
just in case they needed an extra mouthful
waiting for the kind soul that would fetch them
if I never did

-o0o-

Late Night Gossip

we drank coffee far too late at night
as she came in late after work
we gossiped and giggled to our delight
it was as if all goodness was restored
and the world was set right
just for now
as we contemplated over the nature of silly things
breaking all things down to quarks and strings
boil the kettle
talk more nonsense
shape the world again
shape it aright this time
we hug
she heads off
the night is made
and now I will eat it in bed

-o0o-

Saturday, June 25, 2016

Poet

speak poet
your words are the prophesy
selling bad news to bad people
make them think it's honey
you witches and demiurges
who carve creation out of your own blood
rise with the whispers
that no one dares speak before the king
until your chorus shatters their windows
uproots their foundations
shakes the world
I promise you
you have power
sing up at the mighty
and hear them cry for mercy

-o0o-

Friday, June 24, 2016

Me and Your Me

I struggle to split
the convenient me for your easy consumption
from the genuine hard pip
I struggle to divide
find the cruel line that sets me aside
myself as opposed to the me that is yours
we cruel carnivores
that eat at the buffet of souls
that taste of our friends
not they who they are
but they who we'd like them to be
pick and choose
but it's different for me
when all I do is lose
when I'm all stone in the centre
unfit for popular consumption
because I'm not prescribed assumption
coded as affectation and presumption
I became wholly spat out
because I'm not that or this
neither bite nor kiss
blue or pink
swim or sink
pot or pan
wo or man
I guess we all need our provinces
but I don't export from there
I'm not apple or pear
I'm oranges ripe and acidic
pick me up where I lie
burning the little cuts on your lips
difficult to peel for eager finger tips
treat me wrong and I'll spit in your eye

-o0o-

Saturday, June 18, 2016

The Space I Occupy

I find myself in that most awkward position
of having to defend myself
having to remind myself
I am not nothing
a space to occupy
with your opinions
and your theories
my tastes are not yours
my feelings not your playground
my words are not your house
for you to scrutinise
as if you own the furniture
as if you can shift it about
to your leasure
I am not a free for all
a dirty candy jar
into which entitled children
get to paw their way through
this is my body
this is my life
these are my experiences
they are not subject to you
or what you think
as if you would hesitate
to kick me in the arse
if I did the same to you
I'm not an opinion
when I'm cut I don't bleed words
when I cry I don't cry theories
I exist as blood and bone
and the space I occupy is me
entirely
you know my boundaries
see to it that you respect them

-o0o-

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Sculpt

you, stranger, so keen
to get at my clay
with your little pallet knife
to scrape error away
as if my life exists
as object of your play
for malignant hands
to do as they may
getting rid of my queerness
and how you pray
as if pottery can be undone
by wishful bray
so smash and sweep
my bits away
or else I'm here
and here to stay

-o0o-

Saturday, June 04, 2016

Not my fair pasture

in truth I didn't know what I was up to
it was the same job as far as I knew
a single soul to reap, a simple job to do
and to fall so entirely in love
do lions love sheep?
does the butcher love meat?
yes, I suppose so.
I brought fiery hell down on everyone
with my selfishness
to love, to have, to hold
it's not our job to be this bold
we don't live and toil and grow old
this is not my fair pasture

-o0o-

Monday, May 23, 2016

My Gate's Keeper

why hello
stranger
come bursting into my house
as if you own the place
and tell me where to put my furniture
and how to arrange my gender
when I know the dimensions of my soul
better than you ever will
because you've swopped your heart for more teeth
you who misgender and harrass
as if you really matter
as if you have licence to my world
fuck off out of my life
who died and made you queen?

-o0o-

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Animus of Hope (Song, mostly unwritten yet)

we are the children of the anarchy
we are not purchased by the dirty lie
so unafflicted by serenity
you sing to puppets like a lullaby
we're not undone by your iniquity
it's not our job to see you gratified
you are undone by our ability
to wave our hands and leave you mystified

we are the animus of hope
we are the tempered steel
we genuflect to neither king nor pope
we are the grease that turns the wheel

you were the chains around our very necks
to keep us down and so you prayed
your gods would keep us your subjects
but we're the exsanguinating blade
you made us into your inhuman objects
at least, you thought, that we'd be swayed
and ran to cash your bloody cheques
for debts you hoped would never be paid

we are the animus of hope
we are the tempered steel
we genuflect to neither king nor pope
we are the grease that turns the wheel
we are the macroscope
our anger is the only thing you feel
you're a forgotten trope
we'll be all that's left that's real
we are the animus of hope
we are the tempered steel
we genuflect to neither king nor pope
we are the grease that turns the wheel

-o0o-

Monday, May 09, 2016

Insisting Existence

you had better stomp your feet hard
and shout
don't forget to shout
clap your hands
shake your clothes
so the zipper clatters
and the coins in your pocket jingle
made a noise
and let them know
"I exist"
insist
and when they ignore you, persist
you will feel like a fool
and they will bank on that
you will feel hurt
and they will blame you
you will cry out
and they will cry blue murder back at you
never let them tell you
that you don't matter
that you don't exist
never let them tell you
that you have no value
when they bask in the sun
visible and accepted
validated by televisions
while we remain hidden
walled up behind their bigotry
never give up
never give in
don't let them stop you
don't let them win
they'll hurt you, bend you,
break you, make you twist
shatter your ankle
your neck and your wrist
but never stop shouting
"I am here! I exist!"

-o0o-

Friday, April 29, 2016

My First Panic Attack

seventeen years old
on the night the New Year was supposed to arrive
and I got quite the surprise
when the world ended
me sitting by the pool
I guess I'm lucky I fell away from the pool
instead of into it
heaven knows
it might have been my last panic attack

-o0o-

Thursday, April 28, 2016

Afterlife

a very long time ago I died
and I went to heaven
there was nothing there
it was empty
no gods, no angels
nothing but stale air
a place of forgotten promises
and empty dreams
that cannot dull the screams
coming from down below
after that
I figured
I should go looking for hell
maybe there'd be someone to tell
someone who knows
but earth was as far down as it goes
as it turns out you can't suffer worse
you can't hurt more
or give pain more worth
than what hearts feel
right here on earth
so lofty thrones are no good
empty halls offer no rest
with hearts and souls oppressed
so I sat back down
a dead thing in a dead body
back on earth
to make the smallest change
a petty exchange
for whatever rest I may earn
because I suspect
next time
I might not return

-o0o-

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Warm Soup (Poetry Potion)

Another poem of mine is up on Poetry Potion. Go have a read.

HERE or here: http://www.poetrypotion.com/warm-soup-by-charl-landsberg/

Love
Charl

-o0o-

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Ochre

There is clay under my feet.
It is yellow and barren like me,
but it makes for good ink.
So I take a sorry seat,
and write of all I see,
of all the things I dare to think.
What strangely things we meet,
that dreams congeal to be,
that lead us to the brink,
that causes ships to sink,
down, down, down into the clay,
where fantasies may be what may.

-o0o-

Saturday, April 23, 2016

Silvertoothed

today I am beautiful
ever shining
despite the hate in this world
with arseholes opining
I sparkle against them
a protest uphill
and still, and still, and still
through sheer will
I am
always glorious
defiant bastard
newly victorious
I exist to spite
spit in the face of ignorance and hate
and burn bright
I am deified in this
atheist and god
in one place
to fly in the face
of the powers that keep me down
I am the smile
to spite that frown
oppress me? I'll beat you
hate me? I'll eat you
compete me? I'll feat you
because today I am beautiful
shining and splendid
animal and human
broken and blended
I'm the always irreverent dream
the unexpected blasphemous scream
the madgod rising unforseen
the silvertoothed heathen feminist queen

-o0o-

Friday, April 22, 2016

Tamar is Bleeding (#RUReferenceList) (Poetry Potion)

TW: Rape

Please head over to Poetry Potion to read my poem regarding the problem with rape and institutional neglect regarding rape.

HERE or here: http://www.poetrypotion.com/rureferencelist-tamar-is-bleeding-by-charl-landsberg/

Regards
Charl

-o0o-

Monday, April 18, 2016

Bruised Produce

I think I handled my heart too roughly,
and now it's bruised.
It's that squashed pear at the back,
the one nobody wants.
And it's not getting any better.
It's hurt and broken.
It can't hold joy the way it used to.
It's asking price is discounted,
and it longs for the solace of youth,
when mistakes were cheap,
and bruises healed overnight.

-o0o-

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

A Place to Die (Poem Published by Poetry Potion)

Please head over to Poetry Potion to read my poem "A Place to Die" HERE or here: http://www.poetrypotion.com/a-place-to-die-by-charl-landsberg/

Love
Charl

-o0o-

Saturday, April 09, 2016

Stolen Beauty

I'm jealous of her.
She, who carries beauty like she owns it.
She, who snatched beauty from Demeter's fields.
I've always held beauty like I've borrowed it,
like a child caught up the apple tree,
and always, inevitably,
I've been accused of stealing it.
Because who the hell am I,
how dare I,
take possession of something that,
 I've been told I don't deserve?
How dare fat be beautiful?
How dare fat be loved?
How dare I stand in the places of desire,
and say I belong?

-o0o-

Tuesday, April 05, 2016

Transocean

is she so numb
immobile and struck dumb
from the constant flailing against the beach
each wave a lesson to teach
instruct the nerves to stop feeling
that constant hurt that prevents healing
and the rocks, hard and unmoving
never broken, never improving
a liquid ladyboy unformed, unsure
better to change with the tide's allure
to be safe or true, to be that or this
embrace the numb or pain's dark kiss

-o0o-

Friday, April 01, 2016

Stripped

make no mistake
you should celebrate your skin
I think it's a good thing
this is what a lot of feminism is about
giving women the option
to let their skin out
and it's good
and it's fine
and I love you for it
because your expression frees me
undoes some of the shackles
addressing some of the pain
that feminism tackles
but I'm not like you
my stretch marks won't see the light of day
my skin won't be sky clad
I live behind sunblock and cotton
and you must know, this isn't bad
this is as good for me
as your exposure is for you
my body fills a different space
i'm politicized differently
my body isn't automatic
it's a crime scene
where my fat is criminal
my broken is disgraceful
my sick is invisible
my trans is indecipherable
so I cover up
often more than you expect
I'm not going to equate my struggles
to the politicized bodies of veiled women
their problems extend far past my understanding
and my white privilege makes me oblivious
to some of their needs and struggles
but you have to stand with them
as you have to stand with me
because
stripped is your song
and covered is my song
and sure
by all means
go ahead
show your breasts
show your genitals
rail against the patriarchal machine
your ways are good for kicking up steam
and making wannabe patriarchs scream
how dare you indeed?
and good for you
I get it
make no mistake
bend or break
I'm in it for your sake
but I walk with you clothed
and this is the way I have to be
because my body is politicized differently

-o0o-

I was thinking of Femen's method of protest and how problematic and how racist they can be. I was Googling a lot of different ways nudity has been used by women when I saw this picture:
Dear White Feminists. Don't do this. Coaxing a person out of clothes is as violent as coaxing a woman into clothes.

Monday, March 28, 2016

Three Poems (Unseen Hurt, Tools Of The Trade, New Year's Hope)

Recorded more audio which you can listen to HERE. I'm hoping to do more of these soon. Keep an eye and ear out.

Have a wonderful day.

Charl

-o0o-

Repurposed (audio)

So, if you're a fan of my poem Repurposed (HERE), which featured on Poetry Potion (HERE), you should head over to Soundcloud to hear my audio recording of the poem with some of my weird guitar messing about in the background (HERE).

Hopefully there will be more of this in the future. Keep your eye out. Head over to Poetry Potion and give my stuff a read (and other lovely poets' poetry too). Buy some books, I will be in their next book Infinite Wonders (which you can read about HERE).

Anyways. Have a lovely day.

Charl

-o0o-

Gender Magic

there is no greater magic
than the spells I cast
using a razor
and cutting the man off of my face
a subtle spell that removes this boyhood
and rinses it down the drain
this invocation that
                   summons
conjures
evokes                  
from out of the dark: the interlopers
that embody me
so that I may know greater things even
more than the men and women
they who don't know
they who stand static on the binary

-o0o-

Saturday, March 26, 2016

Weathered

scratch the itch
gouge it out
hammer, file
rub and rout
wear and wipe
tear and break
bite and bend
until bones ache
weather down
the bigot block
till nothing's left
but grit and rock

-o0o-

Thursday, March 17, 2016

Chivalry

"for women" is the reason men fought their wars?
            like jackets on mud puddles and opening doors
              men laid us out like carcasses on floors
gutted us and killed us
                     and pretended that they were the victims
          because our deaths weren't as honourable
men did none of this "for women"           
we, the un-man, were the acted upon                  
the field that was tilled                                               
the price that was billed                                         
the hysteria pilled                    
the drink swilled
we were never people                                                     
we were your objects                                                          
your things                                                                                 
                                    the good women cloistered and brided off
                  the bad women, queers, people of colour
fucked, raped, abandoned, and killed   
"for us"?
No...
                                                         you did "for us" what bankers do for money
                          "for us" what robbers do for gold
                      "for us" what the colonist did for land
"for us" what the christian did for souls
this was never about us                                      
and of course              
  of course
            of course
you say that you did it "for us"                                        
we should be grateful                                          
at least someone was thinking about us   
how nice...                                 
                             gobble us up all sugar and spice
                     because we'd be wise to play along
                in a game where we're the ball to be kicked around
men faught wars "for us"?                                                  

go fuck yourself

                                      don't put your blood on my hand
                        use my body as a crutch so you can stand
like the slaver who did it all for the slave's own good                          
                                                      (and of course the land)
         it's the one great thing that I wish you'd understand
the one thing i wish you'd get into your head                                       
damned right, I wish that chivalry was dead                       

-o0o-