I hold you in my mind
like a snow globe
before I sleep

:ir:

--Sky Stanton (@autisticompulsive)

#Haiku #Poem #Poetry #Poet #PoetryCommunity

Self-Care

finding the little girl inside
and handing her hope
with both hands

:ir:

--Sky Stanton (@autisticompulsive)

#Poetry #Poem #PoetryCommunity #Haiku #Senryu #MentalHealth #Trauma

~Open Hearts & Predictable Prey~

Ever since I met you,
my world has been
stained
red.

Faces,
and
voices,
automatically
labeled
'foes.'

The pain
in my heart,
a beacon
to
predators—

Shouting,

'This woman
has fallen
for the
deceitful.

This woman
is uncertain,
and
naïve.

This woman
is waiting,
on wits end,
for arms—

any
arms—

that
won't
release.'

This voice,
this beacon,
will surely be
the end of
me.

For,
as soon as
this announcement
is made,

the blood-thirsty
descend—

swaddled
in the
golden-wrappings
of
love.

Then...

I
am
torn
to
p
i
e
c
e
s
.

#PoetryCommunity #writing #relationships #writer #pain #poetry #toxic #MentalHealth

~I Am the Stranger in My House~

When I was little, my sister and I would collapse on the floor when we came home from long trips—
kissing the carpet,
and yelling with excitement that we were finally home.

We were finally where we belonged;
where we were comfortable.

It's strange to think that since we moved,
I've never felt that connected to anywhere else.

I never found another home.

It's not because of the location,
or the color of the bricks or walls,
or how many rooms or windows there are—
it's because of me.

Ultimately, the change in environment has never been able to compare to the change that has occurred within.

I've changed so much that I just don't belong anywhere anymore.
I can feel it in every room I step in, and in every object my fingers touch:
'Intruder.'

Everything screams that my presence is wrong.
Even the bed I sleep in every. night. still instructs my pillow to whisper in my ear,
"Temporary."

I feel as if I am living on borrowed time;
as if I am anticipating the stroke of midnight every moment of every day,
and then I will be forced to flee once again—

without ever having the time to know, or be known, in the first place.

#Poetry #PoetryCommunity #Home #writing #WritersOfMastodon #MentalHealth

Hey poets of the Fediverse, where do you post your poetry? (Including publications, social media, blogs, websites, etc. etc.) What platform do you like best for putting your poems out there and why?

#PoetryCommunity #Poet #Writing #AmWriting #Poetry

when so few futures come early
and the long slow world
is beyond because
I find quiet in your soft always
I find company in our was
and the many maybes I made of us
and the heart that can't and does

:ir:

--Sarah Stanton (@autisticompulsive)

#Poetry #Poem #PoetryCommunity #Writing

After The Meltdown, The Melting

They tell you that a meltdown
makes you a volcano.

They point to the heat,
the sheer heaviness of explosion.

They do not see the actual melting,
the way your soul slithers

out of your body and makes
a puddle of terror around you--

they do not see it shaping
your breath like a chalk outline,

nor the brittlest parts of you
like a heatwave highway

struggling to crack and cool,
until the lava has left you petrified

and the ridges of your rundown heart
are a heartbeat more rigid than before

:IR:

--Sarah Stanton (@autisticompulsive)

#Poetry #Poem #PoetryCommunity #ActuallyAutistic #ADHD #Neurodivergent @actuallyautistic

Info Dumping

unfurling
like a barnacle's penis:
my lecture about biology

:ir:

--Sarah Stanton (@autisticompulsive)

#Haiku #Poetry #Poem #PoetryCommunity #ActuallyAutistic #ADHD

in one version of the story
I arrived under better circumstances
I learned to love myself as a child
and not as a beat-up dirty 30-something
who's been rolled so much in the mud
that she can't tell the difference
between the bits that are her
and the bits that hurt

in one version of the story
there was no time wasted, no pushing
and pulling, no tides of disapproval,
no getting endlessly dumped by trauma
no game of snakes and ladders
that was really only snakes,
no strips and shakes and aches
and one-step-forward-two-steps-back
no life in white and black
and under attack

in one version of the story
I started with a stable place to jump from
in one version of the story
I didn't live peeled down to the bone
I didn't look for myself in my heart
and find myself alone

in one version of the story
there was no real narrative structure
and I didn't have to stand or fall
or fight or face conflict or grow
in one version of the story
I could walk without having to crawl
and in that story, I suspect--
I didn't end up here at all

and I lived
without this poetry
without this music
without this fierce curious love
and this battle knowledge
without this dedication
without this forget-the-right-side,
show-me-the-wrong-side of the tapestry desire,
without the song i hammered out of courage
without this desperately important rage
without this hope earned
on the tightrope

without this fire--

maybe being further down
on the reincarnation scale
is a better option after all.
it's starting off short and stumbling
that teaches you how to be tall.

:ir:

Sarah Stanton --@autisticompulsive

#Poetry #Poem #PoetryCommunity #MentalHealth #Trauma #CPTSD

in the river-rush of creation,
the frantic patter of civilisation,
remember to tune in occasionally
to the soft animal sound of yourself,
the pee-wee pee-wee of a fledgling heart
in all its whimpering and whimsy

and the sweet squeeze of its arteries,
the sound of a hunter chasing
the hunted through your body over
and over and over, like your chest
is always on the precipice of bringing
a winter deer home--

to feed the people you love,
to nourish the person you are,
to make a coat to keep you warm
in your cold old wondering skin

:ir:

--Sarah Stanton (@autisticompulsive)

#PoetryCommunity #Poetry #Poem #AmWriting #writer

If you can't rush, run. Spill out of yourself and down the street for spring has come. It's a riot, a full helter-skelter of blossoms and hope, a firework down in your lungs. The long lope of winter slows for it. Autumn trembles below it. A great green goddess is pushing up the horizon and they have to run to keep up or fall. Spring is tossing us between her two greedy hands like a ball. Up and catch us, never stop us, never drop us. She knows her game. It's to get every one of us chanting her name. And I'm the same. I want to be your Spring, the queer wild thing that startles you out of your bed with flowers. I want to turn your minutes into hours in my arms. So sound the alarm. Call it from your rooftop: Spring is here. It's time for poetry. Time for growing and wonder and fun. It's time to press your lips to mine and make sun.

🌻

--Sarah Stanton (@autisticompulsive)

#Poetry #PoetryCommunity #Poem #Poet #Spring

boots to the sunrise, you linger
with your finger on the pulse
of the world. and why not, after all?
the curve of morning already arcs
toward hopefulness. hope
that the minutes left will stretch
until noon. hope that every hour
will have a flower, that snails
will set sail across the concrete
and find grass on the other side.
hope that your pride in who you are
is increasing like the dandelions,
that peace will blossom inside you
like a lake welcoming a stone.
so shake your hurt out into the water,
take off all your clothes--go bare
as the morning that bore you,
every part of you waking up
for the very first time. no promises,
nothing to do. the whole world
is angling towards you.

🥾☀️

--Sarah Stanton (@autisticompulsive)

#Poetry #Poem #PoetryCommunity

Self-Care

finding the little child inside
and holding her hope
with both hands

--Sarah Stanton (@autisticompulsive)

🫶🧡

#Haiku #Poetry #Poem #PoetryCommunity

when so few futures come early
and the long slow world
is beyond because
I find quiet in your soft always
I find company in our was
and the many maybes I made of us
and the heart that can't and does

--Sarah Stanton

♥️🌠

#Poetry #Poem #PoetryCommunity

what you have to remember
is that this is *your* spaceship,
your tiny hunk of tin
against the universe,
ricocheting from joy to joy
like a pinball on a table
that's always, always tilted
towards hope--

your vessel, your escape pod,
and if not your choice
where it flies
and if not your choice
how much time and air
you're allowed

at least your choice
in what face you make
when you look out
its little portholes
and see the stars

🚀🌟

--Sarah Stanton (@autisticompulsive)

#Poetry #Poem #PoetryCommunity

:ir:

Go dancing into that wild night,
let your body hop and flow.
Put a bit of rhythm into it
where you thought no rhythm
could go. If your world
is hushed, make it music.
If your heart is shushed,
make it kick. If your life
is a trick, make it magic.
If your world is blue,
make it the blues.

--Sarah Stanton

:ir:

#Poetry #PoetryCommunity #Poet #Writer

Inside My Spinning - poetry

[Spinning" is not the political or media kind but, does require a pen. No hand to hand occurred. This is a concept about the power of words. Choose them wisely.]

"Inside My Spinning"

Here to pass the time,
I hide inside my spinning,
away from all the nettles fenced around.
Somewhere far away are all the saplings I have trampled under foot,
wailing for recompence,
thier recompence not found.

So, to mend the wounds of conscience,
I hide inside my spinning.
Battles hand to hand yet rage,
though I have not a part;
twas, the rudder of my ship's the cause.
The foolish prose of mine disperse,
as words of anger start.

So, I seek the theraputic,
my spinning through the time.
Deep inside the lion roars...
the wheel squeaks...
searching for compation,
there is no peace of mind,

The lion yet has much to learn,
in the jungle of the meek.
Tread softly, carry no stick.
For thunderous steps cause doves to fly,
and weapons kill the peace we seek.

So, the lion journeys on,
a shattered dream,
a broken train of thought.
Yet is is written, someday he will find:

Compassion, peace and understanding;
all the things that he has sought.

But for now to pass the time,
I live behind a spoken mime.
Adrift aloft this swirling rhyme,
For now to pass the time...
I hide inside my spinning.

Out of Exile - IDR. 1992

Primary: @OutOfExile_IDR_Voice
#poetry #SelfReflection #FindingPeace #SelfAwareness #writing #prose #philosophy #PoetryCommunity #InvisibleDisability #neurodivergence #querencia #HastagsNobodyWillEverSearch

The soliloquy of a man's inner self is the reflection, not of what others perceive, but what he truly is.

For in the cool of the day, sheltered by the fog, for a man at peace with himself; there is no other.

Out of Exile - 1991

I've always thought about artists rendering their impressions of my poems. What would this look like?

#poetry #SelfReflection #FindingPeace #SelfAwareness #writing #prose #philosophy #PoetryCommunity #HastagsNobodyWillEverSearch #InvisibleDisability
@OutOfExile_IDR_Voice

listen to me, little girl inside
who jumped in puddles
and dressed up as an alien
and mucked around in mud
and flew down every hill
and made people call her Luke Skywalker
and yes, sometimes even walked in the sky--

let me tell you that you are a swarm of bees
and we leave no bee behind
let me tell you that it's right for a swarm
to want some drones in its hive

you do not need to take the path
marked woman
and leave the other roads inside you
to grow over

you do not have to let
that glorious in-betweenness you have
continue to choke on weeds--

you can take these shivering solo atoms
that have been shut outside your heart
and reintroduce them to you, slowly at first,
like stranger cats sniffing each other
from under a bedroom door

until one by one once again
you become the bit of you that is boy,
and the bit of you that is girl,
and the bit of you, the bit of joy
that dances between the two

and you can wear whatever you like
sing wherever you like,
move however you like,
be whoever you like,

inhabiting a self as shifting and solid
as the swarm, the atoms, the rain,
each drop different and alike enough
to be part of a beautiful they--

until you are jumping in puddles
like a woman, and a man,
and someone who is neither
and is more than

someone who has welcomed
themselves home to their soul,
holding the whole of the sun in their hands
just by changing their clothes.

--Sarah Stanton
#Nonbinary #Demigirl #Poetry #Poem #PoetryCommunity

Hello, all! 💜

I just wanted to come on briefly and give y’all the link to my main poetry and writing page for any of y’all to look at, if you’re interested– the other platform that I use allows me to post my more lengthy works, as well as my more sensitive content. I will still be posting on here, and I will try to start doing so more often, but if you TRULY wish to see inside my head and learn more about my story, then exploring my ‘portfolio’ AND ‘notebook’ tabs in the link below is where you will find what makes me, *me.*

Big hugs,
~Britt~ 🫂

http://writing.com/authors/bmorgan686

#PoetryCommunity #advocacy #neurodivergent #MentalHealth #poetry #writing #community