Prose
LIVING IN THE LIGHT
I am training on new software I downloaded on my refurbished Trusselli Art. My computers are now 'hooked up'. CapCut is a video editing tool for short videos. Copilot is built into the app. I am creating a series of being in the light, being with the light. I CREATED THIS. PROFESSOR COPILOT IS MY GUIDE, AND I CREATED EVERYTHING.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 8 months ago in Poets
MYTHIC SHADOW BLUES. Content Warning.
The Intro: Sometimes the "blue-tinted days" feel heavier than they should. This piece was born from the static and the "long, low moan" of the world outside my window a response to the crooks, the liars, and the systems that try to break our rhythm.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 8 months ago in Poets
Sparkling Diamond, Mythical Scam. Content Warning.
"I grew up in a world where a girl’s heartbeat was supposed to sync to the sparkle of a diamond, but life has a way of burning the script right out of your hands. Somewhere between the heartbreaks and the mornings I woke up breathing on my own, I learned that a ring is not magic, it is marketing. This piece, 'Sparkling Diamond, Mythical Scam,' is my snort and my 'Bull' to the old fairytales. I didn't need a ring to save me; I needed myself."
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 8 months ago in Poets
Not For Show
When my son cries, I soothe him. The voice that still plays in my head is my father’s: “If you don’t stop crying, I’ll give you something to cry about.” My son wants to be held often, consistently. In elementary school, my mother corrected me: “I don’t want a hug. That’s your dad’s side of the family.” My son is free to exist, not perform. I was taught to project a loving family for show, with no care given behind closed doors. My son is allowed to move at his own pace, without comparison. I was always too much—or not enough. I love that he is stubborn, curious, observant, and sensitive. I was conditioned to believe those traits were flaws. Breaking the cycle looks like becoming the parent you needed. It is re-parenting your inner child while learning how to be a parent at all. ☾⋆｡°✩🦇✩°｡⋆☽
By Alicia Melnick 8 months ago in Poets
Headlights Dim in the Distance
Out the window, in the distance, I watch the headlights of a car fade. A sliver of moon glared through a sliver in the drapes, penetrating my early morning eye. There was wood or maybe I just had to pee. It was gone as quickly as it had arrived, pulling soft light out of a distant morn. I could roll over for comfort like I used to, comfort was there, but not as willing as she once was, besides the Black Lab between us claimed a big stake in it. Most people tell me they prefer buttons on the dash of their car opposed to the hard edge of a computerized flush screen in modern cars. I like ease, the cleanliness screens clean lines have to offer —but I still believe a car should have round headlights, it’s just the era my love comes from.
By Gerry Thibeault8 months ago in Poets
