Tag: poetry

  • a post 2 days in a row? Holy fuckin shit?!

    Well it would seem that clearing out the spam comments may have helped fix whatever was breaking the site, or it cleared up on its own. I’m reminded of a meme where it’s like “can you lick the science? Programming: nothing else has made the code work, so you may as well try…”

    I am an absolute garbage programmer but I think it’s a pretty safe bet that over 2000 spam comments waiting in the queue will slow down your site’s processing time, lol. So that’s fixed, AND I have a spam blocker in place now, so hopefully that’s less of a problem going forward. Ugh. If I never have to see “503: no server is available to process your request” again, it’ll be too goddamn soon.

    Speaking of programming, and people far more skilled at it than I am, I am hoping to see my dear friend Beany this coming week, one of the smartest people and most gifted programmers I know. She also happens to be out of work and in search of a job, so if any of y’all know of an open position in programming, broadcast engineering, or audio, please let me know in the comments and I’ll pass it on to her.

    It’s been over a year since I’ve seen her and I miss her so badly…

    I don’t entirely know what I’m doing for the rest of the week. Perhaps a poetry thing tomorrow called Memory Café that happens monthly that a rad poet here puts on, and then workshop on Sunday. Saturday’s activities are TBD. Emerson also found a swimming hole that’s semi-local, so we might go to that sometime soon when it’s not pissing rain.

    Wish me luck and pray that I don’t die.

    I leave you with this photo of Véra baby that Emerson took:

    -Allēna

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  • It is storming outside and Emerson taught me how to play dominos today.

    It was pretty fun although he kicked my ass.

    I also saw this prompt about small spells to do on your birthday, and half of an enormous poem formed in my head while I was taking my 30 minutes of boredom based on the suggestion to write a letter to yourself a year ago even though it isn’t my birthday. So I’m going to post it here for posterity’s sake.

    “annus epilepticus”

    you don't know this yet
    but the premonitions you've been having of
    your own death are true
    and a mere few weeks past your 28th birthday
    you will die - just enough - to touch the
    robe of any god you know
    when the subtle fire you've always been
    strikes you back
    and strikes you back again

    you will hang on for just long enough
    for your kind partner to burst into the room
    cradle you in his arms
    and guide you, screaming in mortal terror, back into the light

    you have never been good at dying
    but this will take you a hair’s breadth from death
    and you will bear the scars on your temporal lobe
    (and speech pattern) long afterwards to prove it

    and whether it is by fate or some wild magic
    this will save your life in more ways than you will
    know

    for most of July, you will not be able to speak
    coherently. you will eventually choke out
    your suspicion that the seizures induced
    Wernicke's aphasia, and everyone who knows
    you will agree with you, a cruel fate for
    you, but more importantly, you will come back…
    changed.

    you will start writing better poetry. something
    about the way your brain burned and cracked
    will allow you to see things from a different angle,
    to look askance at language in a way you
    never did before.
    the partner that saved your life will convince you
    to start attending a poetry workshop held in a coffeeshop that july. the rhythm of writing and
    performing regularly amongst very talented
    wordsmiths will help break you out of your
    agoraphobia.
    one of them will take notice of the way you
    perform, noting its similarity
    to Shakespearean acting and encourage you to attend the open mic he runs.
    so you start performing at Linneman's Riverwest Inn again for the first time since 2023 at his
    personal request.

    you will somehow muddle through your divorce
    proceedings on july 23, five years and 13 days
    since leaving your ex husband, and it's a miracle
    you will be able to do that since even getting
    out of bed to use the bathroom still feels like running a marathon, but you're so hell-bound
    and determined to get rid of this man that
    when the judge asks if the marriage fell apart
    due to incompatibility of temperament, you will
    shout ABSOLUTELY loud and clear as day into
    the microphone. (you will also show up hours
    early to the hearing. you don't want to miss this
    for the world.) when your ex husband replies, it's the most defeated you will ever hear him.
    spite has always been your strong suit.
    the judge will finalize your divorce, and
    then the question arises of who you will
    marry next.

    you will leave the answer up to the two people
    you consider yourself married to
    already, a man who cannot lie
    and a boy who cannot tell the truth.
    in a rare show of generosity, the liar boy
    will concede to the honest man.
    he will live to regret that decision. you, however,
    will not.

    as the months progress, it will become increasingly clear that despite your love
    for him, your relationship with the liar is built
    on sand. surviving your seizures will leave
    you with a new perspective on life and
    precious little patience for wasted time or
    undue stress, and the liar will waste your time
    and mess with your head.
    you will tell him he is killing you. he displays no
    remorse. you will scream, beg, plead, and stop
    short of borrowing and stealing to get him to
    listen.
    despite his damn near single-minded obsession
    with you that will make you feel like you're
    emotionally his hostage, he will not care about
    the affect he's having on your other relationships
    or your well being.

    one very early fall morning, after you've spent the
    entire night in the emergency room with him and
    your fiancé, “heat above” by greta van fleet will
    come on. your fiancé will remark that it feels as though you are driving into a different
    timeline as dawn breaks. you, spiritual and full of subtle fire as ever, will respond that you feel it, too. your liar will
    say nothing.

    finally, in november, after
    months of suspicion that he's cheating on you (despite being polyamorous!)
    he will get sloppy and you'll catch him when he
    forgets to turn his location off.
    this is your red line and you will dump him over it.
    to add insult to injury, he will tell you you're
    overreacting.
    you will know better than that by now.

    despite your heartbreak, you will feel more
    free after leaving him than you have in months.
    you will compile a dossier of evidence against him
    and publish it to the world.
    this is when the mask and gloves come off and it
    will spark
    a months long battle of he-said-she said online.
    he will slander both you and your future husband.
    you will have even fewer regrets about leaving
    him.

    one of the final acts you will do before moving
    out from the apartment you and your fiancé share with your liar
    is a manifestation ritual that will make you feel
    powerful beyond imagining - you will gaze into
    a mirror with your future husband while “heat above” plays in the background. you will picture yourself in red sunglasses driving down water street with more money and fame
    than sense, husband
    next to you. you pass your former lying flame on
    the street, roll down your window, wave to him like a queen, and ride on
    as if he had never meant a thing to you in the
    first place.

    you will choose “heat above” as the song for your
    intentions for the year to come after how that ritual made you
    feel.

    on January 5th, you will feature at Linneman's, your poetic home.
    you will write a brilliant bespoke set for the
    occasion, combining music, poetry, and
    references to shakespeare at the
    host’s request. the audience is small, but they are
    so engaged that they offer you a standing ovation at the end.
    you have nothing prepared for an encore, so you
    will offer them a story about your eccentric
    great uncle.
    it will go over the time limit, but not a soul will
    care.

    you will marry your husband on January 23rd in the
    same coffeeshop that helped you work through
    your agoraphobia. the wedding will be incredibly
    small, but it will be the finest wedding either of
    you have ever attended. the poet who runs
    the workshop that got you writing again will
    write a special poem for the ceremony.
    your friend and frequent collaborator will travel
    all the way from Madison to attend. your
    husband's best man will travel all the way from
    iowa. your “gentleman of debauchery”, as they are called, is your dear friend who you will
    date a few months later.

    you will wake up the next day in the fabulous
    hotel that your best man and
    a friend of yours who you met
    by chance arranged for you and your husband
    to find that one of the videos you posted from
    the wedding is going viral on instagram.
    it is your first look video, and no one, friend or foe,
    will quite know what to make of it.
    within days, it will amass millions of views.
    you will keep posting.

    you will start to get inundated with direct messages from people who are fascinated with
    your body after you get an idea to post videos of
    yourself in lingerie that your husband found
    for you at a clothing swap, and because you are
    struggling financially, you will decide to start talking
    about your Patreon more.
    to no one’s surprise but your foes, you will get
    subscribers, enough to make hundreds of dollars
    in the first two months you talk about it.
    in the meantime, you will keep going viral.

    a few weeks before your next birthday, on
    your regularly scheduled Internet travels,
    you will come across a creator who found out
    that she copes with mast cell activation syndrome
    and that she has been taking H1 and H2 inhibitors
    for it. you will tell your husband what you saw, and seeing as you've already been taking H1
    inhibitors for some time, he will find you H2 inhibitors.
    you will take them as an experiment, and the
    difference is like night and day. you will feel as
    though you are emerging from a decade in a
    long, dark cave.

    the change will frighten you.
    you will keep going anyway.

    you don't know it yet, but despite everything -
    you will do more than your best this year.

    Allēna 6/5/2026

  • I had this odd realization during my post-writers group smoke break today.

    I think I – as well as my system as a whole – approach making art the same way that jazz musicians play music. I was thinking about this because the piece I ended up writing today in group pulled heavily from “My Island” and yet putting an entirely different spin on it, and it got me thinking about all of the different times that I’ve done that while making music especially.

    And honestly, if I had to sum up my approach to just about everything in life, I would say that I approach most of my crafts like a jazz musician even though I don’t technically play jazz. I don’t believe in just one final product or making a recording or a piece the be all, end all. A single song can inspire me for over ten years and I’ll keep coming back to it lyrically, musically, poetically, even, in a sort of self-referential game of call and response, making something new with each iteration and reexamination.

    In the process, I’m building a recursive universe the longer I make content and art.

    I fucking love jazz.

    -Allēna

  • I wrote this today.

    It’s called “the denouement”. It’s about Zelda.

    13 years 
    13 years
    I peered through the bars of
    your wintry love into the flame
    and I saw the future
    laying on the kitchen floor in 2022 -

    13 years
    13 years and decreasing -
    I declared to you
    that you'd see the end of it all
    but not much more

    11 years
    10
    you fancy yourself inimitable
    invincible
    sophomoric survivor
    but you drink your rage and heartbreak

    9 years
    9 years
    I know the signs of alcohol poisoning from
    watching my first husband
    watching my father

    8 years –
    you terrified me the first time
    scarcely a week in

    7 years
    and you cheated the first time when
    we’d barely been together for two months
    I thought I could finally rest
    fucking fool was I

    6 years
    6 years left
    I watch you try to outrun your demons
    again
    again
    again
    but they've always been faster
    or perhaps you've always loved them more
    than you could ever love me

    5 years
    4 years
    and I watch the tests roll in
    I know how it goes
    first the heart
    then the kidneys
    then the liver
    then the rest
    then the cash out, the flare out
    alone

    when you are spent
    who will be there to catch you
    except the bottom of the bottle?

    -Allēna

  • “never be your normal” live @ Linneman’s Riverwest Inn 12/8/2025

    Over the years, my poetry has become something like my diary. As a result, there are hundreds of poems in my Google Drive that I’m rediscovering that sometimes I only remember a few lines from, or perhaps don’t remember at all. This was one such poem. I only remembered the section about my uncle dying twice, a true story. It stuck with me from the day I wrote it. I’m glad I found this one again and performed it at Linneman’s last night.

    I wrote it during my first marriage while I was being neglected and abused and was trying to ignore those facts. My headmate Peri ended up finding the courage to leave the following year and we finally divorced our first husband five years later on July 23, 2025.

    It’s called “never be your normal”. Enjoy.

    -Allēna

  • I am so happy that I performed my “Invictus” style poem that I wrote on Inauguration Day this year on what turned out to be a very historic election night.

    Thank you to all the people in the US who turned up to their polling places yesterday to make their voices heard. This one is for y’all.

    WE are the masters of our fate. WE are the captains of our souls.

    Not some clown in the White House.

    Remember that now and always.

    I love y’all.

    If y’all want to read more work like this, my Inauguration Day poem previously appeared on this blog under the category Our Poetry and is published in our zine easy to hate like everything you love.

    -Allēna

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  • “un-lotused”

    I’ve never been one to meditate on regrets
    of paths not taken, universes unexplored,
    for my regrets are few –

    when I want something, I show up for it,
    I find a way to it or I make one
    and the primrose path to success builds upon itself

    I would far rather meditate on failures,
    iterations where everything when wrong
    and then I made something beautiful from the
    ashes, lotus petals unraveling, daring to ask if he
    loves me or he loves me or loves me not,
    than the zest of life left unnoticed

    -Allēna 11/2/2025

  • “haunted tape” by Eight, 10/10/2021

    you may want me dead
    and sundered into pieces
    smaller than grains of sand
    but you’ll never tell
    and I will never know

    such is the punishment for twenty hours
    of touch that is torture in hindsight
    such is the punishment for
    shattering a fragile peace
    and believe me, if I could destroy
    myself that utterly
    don’t you think I would have
    already?

    surely you also know the hell I’ve
    seen?

    is it strange that I can still
    see her face in nearly perfect detail
    square jaw and blue hazel eyes
    I rewind the tape again
    and again –

    how do you not get what you want
    when it is offered freely
    before you even ask?
    before you even consider
    what it is you want?

    you only wanted security
    and safety
    and the comfort of routine
    I wanted her
    and I wanted you, too, once or twice –
    now I hold in the pain you
    wish you could see.

    someday you might get your
    wish. someday I might
    be broken into
    twenty six billion pieces
    just like I did to my
    dreams

    like you did to my trust
    and faith in a found home

    and I will go my fate
    head unbowed
    still wondering if I
    deserved it

    but still I carry on
    intact on the outside
    I find my strength in
    brokenness

    do I leave a piece of me
    in everything I leave behind?

    -Allēna

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  • “answer”

    I could ask my body
    what will I do when it has fallen
    and regardless of which side I try and
    coax, pry, cajole, or beat an answer from –
    the deaf side or the silent one,
    the answer is always the same:

    it already has.

    sixteen percent of my brain died before I was
    a year old, I fought tooth and nail to keep
    my own heart. (I was finally removed from
    the transplant list when I was 12)
    I’ve had to re-learn how to walk twice,
    I spent this past july remembering
    how to talk again
    after nearly dying for the nineteenth
    time. I couldn’t form a coherent sentence for
    a month after a seizure episode approximately
    twenty five minutes long
    I’ve been everything short of shot
    and sometimes I wish I had been
    just to get the dying over with
    because “what doesn’t kill you makes you
    stronger” is a goddamn myth
    sometimes what doesn’t kill you makes you
    wish you were dead

    the deaf side of my body and the silent side
    are asymmetrical, imperfect mirrors of each other
    an invisible remnant of the stroke in ‘98
    I can feel the right side but it doesn’t often
    tell me anything anymore because where it should’ve been able to talk my mother screamed
    over it and told me I was faking my pain
    and my sadness, my fear, that I was just
    looking for attention, and it was beaten into
    listening to her instead (she had a knack for
    going for the face)
    it took 24 years to fully break free and by that time
    my mind had shattered as well

    so, what will I do now that my body has fallen?
    same thing I’ve done since I was a child.
    rest, get up, do the damn thing again
    and try to listen for better whispers

    -Allēna 10/27/2025

  • I wrote this based on a conversation I had with a cool fellow poet after Poets’ Monday last week.

    “fog kisses”

    the lake visits me and gives me little fog kisses
    as she’s been doing since before the house
    reached out its unforgiving arms and swallowed me
    they caress my skin and turn
    the street lights into stage lights
    every turn on the drive home is a perfectly framed
    work of art

    I once called her my wife many years ago
    when I had a different name, a different life,
    practically a different face
    when every nerve from
    my neck to my hands screamed pain and
    fatigue
    I was angrier then, I think, to keep myself alive
    but the rage served its purpose
    that name served its purpose
    as did that life and that house
    but I never stopped loving that lake

    I’m still here, sifting through the remainder of
    what was left behind when I found her
    where do I go now?
    how do I leave the wrath behind when it’s seared
    itself into every cell in my body?
    she’s more home
    than my own skin…

    -Allēna 10/22/2025