Saturday, June 18, 2022

Humpty Dumpty

    Happy pride month, everyone! I hope you have all been good. I've been doing alright and have been making progress on the final miniseries "Inquiring, Cheshire Cat." Check out this post for further information. I will be posting the first part of the "Inquiring, Cheshire Cat" miniseries soon. If you want more details, join my Patreon. You can also support me by buying my poetry book, "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" and leaving a review.

    There once was a new boy who joined the neighborhood kids. His parents were divorced and had a tall wall splitting their house in half. This new boy gets nicknamed Humpty Dumpty as he would saddle this towering wall. The left side of him was on his father's side, and the right side of him was on his mother's side. Then he'll lean over left and right, showing off which parent he felt more similar to. When drifting to the right, he'll hop off the wall and spend that day with his mother. During the days he leaned left, he'll leap off the wall and have a fun day with his father. During the first summer weeks, the other children saw him doing this caused quite a fright. But in the mid-summer weeks, all the kids had grown used to his silly habit. As Humpty Dumpty did this quite often, the rest of the neighborhood children never worried that he'll fall. They all wondered if Humpty Dumpty did this before his parents divorced.

As summer ends and fall begins, all the children, including Humpty Dumpty, return to school. With school in, Humpty Dumpty doesn't scale the towering wall. Instead, he flipped a dime for which parent he'll stay with that day. If the coin lands on heads, then Humpty Dumpty stays with his mother. If it lands on tails, he goes with his father. However, none of the other children knew if that was what he decided. He could have changed which face represented which parent by the day. Throughout fall and most of the winter, Humpty Dumpty would flip his coin. The neighborhood kids started betting on which parent he would stay with for the day. 

During the winter holidays, he once more sat atop the dividing wall. The towering wall had a blanket of snow and was likely terribly cold. But Humpty Dumpty didn't seem to mind. All the children are staring at him as he drifts left and right in a dramatic fashion. It was a truly frightening sight. And like the summer before, that was how Humpty Dumpty decided what parent he'd stay beside. When school was back in, he started flipping his coin again. As the snow melted and spring returned, he used his dime less and less. Then spring break came, and all the neighborhood children rejoiced. That week Humpty Dumpty stayed with his grandparents on his mother's side. The wall was lonely, but a week is short, and Humpty Dumpty was back again.

All through the spring, he sat atop that dividing wall despite still being in school. But saddling the wall was how he liked to decide which parent he was similar to. It was determined by the neighborhood children that Humpty Dumpty had done this before. Sometimes he would lean one way for a whole week. Beckoning to the other children, Humpty Dumpty makes a show of which parent he was like that week. No one saw it strange as he was half his mother and half his father. And either parent was awful, at least to the neighborhood kids. The children understood that they were more like one parent than the other. It makes sense to them. The days seem longer as summer gets closer, and Humpty Dumpty and the neighborhood kids try to rush time so summer could come faster. They had to be patient because time won't move swiftly to please a group of school children. Days, weeks, and months pass by. And at last, the school year was over, and summer was finally here.

Without distraction, Humpty Dumpty spent most of his time on the wall that divided his parents' house. On hot summer days, he would wear swim trunks and hose down the towering wall before he sat upon it. He did this every day, and on the hottest days, several neighborhood kids would ask to be hosed down by him. Of course, the children would be wearing bathing suits so their clothes wouldn't be soaked. With summer days dwindling, and fall on the horizon, talk of the new school year started to happen. The last few days became precious as the hope of an unending summer gets smashed. But there Humpty Dumpty was, tilting left and right. On a windy late summer day, Humpty Dumpty was leaning too hard on either side of the wall. Then the expected happen. A gush of wind thrust him forward. CRACK! Humpty Dumpty plunged onward and fractured in half. His right side plummeted towards his mother's side. And his left side crashed towards his father's side. Seeing Humpty Dumpty broken, everyone knew Humpty would never be whole again. END.

Saturday, May 21, 2022

Patreon Request 24: A Coyote Through the Desert

     The endless sea of sand crunch beneath the toes of the coyote as its nails scrape the dried earth. With the sand being so dry, it's easy to lose traction of one's footing. During the day, the coyote found itself constantly slipping from the sluggishly shifting sand. When the coyote did plummet to the ground, the sand burned the hairs off it. It has burnt flesh beneath the fur and is full of scars from the burning pebbles. Parched air whimpers throughout the wasteland, begging for moisture. But there's not a hint of water to drink. The fat beaming firefly drags itself across the cloudless blue sky. All the coyote can do is slowly crawl through the wasteland.

Through the unending hours, the pulsing firefly buzzes through the dull blue. As it moves through the sky, the sky grows dark until the firefly crosses the distant horizon. The sky changes from a dying light blue to inescapable black. The yellow firefly had fallen hours ago, with the mostly squished white firefly stealing its place. The white firefly is a slither of white, barely lighting the sparse landscape. There're billions of distance burning fireflies caught in a net of black that graces the desert with enough light to see invisible paths through the sand. The coyote goes swimming through the uneasy evening. Soaring inside the inky netting, a few fireflies manage to move within their trap. Most fireflies stay pinned inside the net, with only a few fireflies able to fly. With the night, it's easier for the coyote to travel the desert.

As the coyote searches for a safe place to rest, it follows the directions of the trapped fireflies. Whispers of wind stream past the coyote's ears. The harsh whips of air cause the coyote to fold its ears down to protect the sensitive insides. Even when its ears are folded down, the whistle of the wind pierces its eardrums. The minutes are on until finally, the breeze dies. The coyote freezes for a second to observe the area. Black eyes drag across the land. Cactuses and sanded over rocks sparsely litter the desert. There's nothing much to hide behind to take advantage of the coyote's tired state. Any threat to the coyote has possibly taken to slumber.

Sleep is the most desirable activity at the moment. But rest won't be easy for the coyote. Without packmates to watch its back, danger could strike as it slept. A night of rest is useless when the mind is on constant alert. The coyote's dreams are abandoned, as its mind is abuzz with the anxiety of possible danger. The coyote has to carries on, as there is no possible shelter to find here. It must follow the untouchable fireflies through the wasteland. Even when its paws bleed and its legs give out, causing the coyote to crash to the ground. Rest is useless, as only the promise of the desert end will allow the coyote to stop.

Hours have passed since the coyote started making its way across the sand. Lazy sand tornados twirl in the air. Distance chirps of desert bugs tickle the coyote's ears. Sadly, no friendly howls run through the night air. There's no chance of joining a pack or being adopted by a pair of older coyotes. The coyote is left to drift through the unending wasteland. Thirsty for security that solitude can't grant. But wallowing in despair isn't going to lead the coyote out of the desert faster. Forward it must go if there's any chance of survival. Twirling sand tornados die off as the coyote continues its forward pace.

The broken white firefly is behind the coyote as the pinned fireflies flicker ahead. It's a frosty night as the temperature drops further. Better to walk atop icy sand than burning pebbles that wedge between toes and claws. During the day, each step is a scorching pain without a place to rest. Sanded over rocks is nothing more than a taunting resting place that oozes heat. If rested upon without scales, blistering burns will scar the flesh that made contact with the rock. But at night, these rocks provide shelter for serpents. Some of which are venomous. Although the snakes are asleep, disturbance to their slumber is risky. The coyote carries on as the end of the desert should be near. Just ahead is the horizon where the fat yellow firefly fled. It is there that the wasteland ends, and so the coyote strives forward in solitude. END.

If you want to read more from me, check out my Patreon and become a patron. You can also buy my poetry "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" and leave a review.

Saturday, April 16, 2022

Patreon Request 23: Three Archways

 It's that time of the month, and welcome to the newest post on Learning to Stand. It's been a while since I've posted a poetry prompt. If you wish for me to post twice a month, then head over to my Patreon and become a patron. Patrons get to vote on patron-only polls, read patron-only posts, and have access to blog posts early. If you are unable to become a patron, you can purchase and leave a review on my poetry book "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" as that also supports me and my writing.


Years ago, in a big transition in my life,

I witnessed three rainbow archways.

Framed by sun-kissed red apartments,

The setting sun kisses goodbye to the cloudless sky.


I took a picture then, between the runs from my old home

and my mother's car. Glistening brow and squinting eyes,

I raised my phone, holding it horizontally, 1...2...3.

I remembered an old meme about double rainbows,

but I found three. Back to putting cardboard boxes into the car.


The pictures were blurry, unfocused, and slightly fuzzy.

Like a memory, from one phone to the next, 

The photos get transferred. Until one day, I've lost them.

I hadn't a guess where they went, lost to time probably.

Now I have slightly fuzzy archways to remember within.


One archway for the home I'm leaving behind,

Another for the latest transition to my new life,

And the last for the future I do not know.

A rainbow, a rainbow, a rainbow 

Three distant rainbows I have no proof of, oh well.

I need only to remember to ensure they don't fade away.

Saturday, March 19, 2022

Patreon Request 22: The White Scorpion

   Hello Everyone! I hope 2022 hasn't been going too bad for you. I've been dealing with insomnia a lot recently, but I'll get my sleep schedule back on track. If you would like to support me and have blog posts twice a month, consider becoming a patron of my Patreon. You can also support me by purchasing and reviewing "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" as that also helps.

    As the garden swiftly gets flooded from the sky's sobs, a white scorpion is at risk to drown. The salty tears drown more land as time goes on. With the threat of extinction, the scorpion dares to pray for safety. But it may be the scorpion's fate to drown. Then a frog came around and offered to help. Here's the scorpion's chance. Telling a white lie, the white scorpion crawls onto the frog's back. Halfway through the river of tears, the scorpion strikes the frog in the back. The poison permeates through the frog's veins.

    "Why?"

    "Betrayal is my nature."

Saturday, February 19, 2022

Patreon Request 21: Blood Bags Only Club

Here's the February blog post. If you're interested in supporting me and check out my Patreon and become a patron. Doing so helps support this blog and lets me continue doing what I love. If haven't already, please consider buying my book, "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" and leave a review.

   "It's completely all right that you have no desire to drink from any human personally, Canary. There are plenty of vampires just like you. I can ask the other local coven heads if there's a place where vampires like you meet to drink frequently."

    Two weeks later, the newborn vampire, Canary, attends her first no-contact feeding meeting at the nearest community college. The theater hall hosts theater majors during the day and vampires at night. Classical music bleeds from the door. With a hesitant breath, Canary sheds her nervousness and proceeds through the door. The intimate gathering of other vampires is fewer than she imagined. While she's happy that she isn't the only one here, the fact there are so few other vampires like her is distressing. Could this be a rare condition that vampire society as a whole pushes aside? What if this meeting is to test if something is wrong with her instead? Before her thoughts can race any further, an unfamiliar voice breaks her mental cage.


    A vampire woman, who Canary can sense is quite a bit older than her, interrupts her overwhelming thoughts. "You must be Canary. I'm Alexandria, the leader of your first meeting."


    "It's good to meet you, Alexandria. Is there, are there more vampires like us?"


    Placing a reassuring hand on Canary's shoulder, Alexandria answers, "There is. Because this is your first time feeding without any coven mates, I thought it best to expose you to a small number of similar vampires. Outside of myself and Marcellus, the others in this group are like you. Only in their first few years as a vampire."


    The tightness in Canary's chest relaxes. There are more like her, and for her comfort, she's starting with a small group. Less shy, she follows after Alexandria and sits beside her at the round table. Looking at the others, she can tell who Marcellus is immediately. She's reassured, the other four members at this meeting feel about her age in vampire years. Getting settled in, Marcellus nods to Alexandria to start the greetings.


    "As you all see, we have a new member for our little gathering. For the next couple of group feedings, it'll just be us seven. Once everyone is comfortable, we'll have the regular number of members again," taking a look beside her, Alexandria smiles, "Now onto introductions. I'm Alexandria.


    "Hello, I'm Canary. It's nice to meet all of you."


    "I'm Reyes. Nice to meet you all."


    "I'm Marcellus. I go by they/them and he/his pronouns. I'm also the group leader along with Alexandria."


    "Good to meet you all. I'm Emma. I go by they/them and she/her pronouns."


    "It's cool meeting everyone. I'm Nirvana. I go by they/them pronouns."


    "Lawrence, hi."


    "Okay, with that out of the way, I'll go grab the blood bags!" Alexandria walks off to an unnoticed area.


    "Have you ever fed from someone before Canary? Or does just the thought of doing so make you uncomfortable?" Reyes turns his full attention to her.


    "I have fed from a coven mate's human partner before, and I didn't like the experience. I'm just not that interested in feeding on a human directly."


    "I prefer to feed on my human partner than a volunteer. Since I'm not seeing a human girl right now, it got suggested that I join a blood bag feeding group."


    "I'm the same way, Reyes," Emma goes on, "My ex-girlfriend was the one I used to feed on, but now I'm here."


    "I've never liked drinking directly from anyone, nor am I'm interested in having a partner of any kind, so drinking from a blood bag makes the most sense to me," Lawrence shrugs.


    "I only date other vampires, so blood bags are a must," Nirvana smiles with their fangs visible.

Looking at Marcellus, Canary asks, "How about you, Marcellus?"


    "I've rarely dated humans and prefer to drink from a blood bag. As for Alexandria-"


    "I was never interested in direct drinking like Lawrence. Here's everyone's mug!" Alexandria places a hot mug of blood in front of each seated vampire.


    Taking a deep drink, Canary feels more comfortable with the mug of blood than she ever was with a human feeding. It was clear that everyone else was content with their meals as well. Maybe in the future, they'll be a human she would like to drink from unless her partner is a fellow vampire. Either way, this meeting is a much better start to her new life as a vampire. END.

Saturday, January 15, 2022

Pulsing Floor

I hope you're doing well this new year, and welcome back. It's been a minute since I've posted a poem. I wrote this poem while listening to the song "Whirl" from Soft Kill. If you would like to support me and my writing, become a patron of my Patreon. You can also buy my poetry book, "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" as that also helps support me.


Standing there in the middle of the dancefloor

Paralyzed

Not knowing how to move.

Close your eyes, feel the beat, 

Thumping through your feet

Right to your core.

There you go 

Making your way through the song,

Dancing, getting lost along the way.

You didn't feel like you fit on the floor,

It's okay

Stay away from the door.

Give yourself a chance,

Let the song lead the way.

Getting lost to the beat, 

On the dancefloor.

The beat pulsing through your feet

Here you're in the moment,

Feeling it in your core.

Getting lost along the way,


Unable to run away.

Paralyzed

Here's the chorus, sing along

Even if your words are lost.

It's alright, no one can hear you,

Sing loudly

Getting lost to the words.

Pulsing through your core

Go along, 

You can sing the song all the way.

From the song, the dancefloor holds onto you.

The door's too far away, 

Don't slow down.

Can't you feel the floor pulsating?

Your heart's in tune.

Down to the soul,

Away from the door,

Getting lost along the way.

Don't let yourself escape.

Stay, 

You're not paralyzed.

Patreon Request 20: New Year Bell

For January, there will be two posts instead of one since it'll also be my birthday soon. If you would like to support me and my writing, become a patron of my Patreon. You can also buy my poetry book, "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" as a birthday gift to me!

    In the old part of the overgrown graveyard, a wailing bell rings. The autumn wind howls along with the blaring sound. A dull thud, thud, thud, is heard from where the ringing bell is. The restless body of Jemima May is desperate to get out. She "died" at 15 in 1912. At the death of the previous year Jemima May, reminds everyone she's still alive. But the public turns a blind eye.

"It's just the wind."

"A storm is coming in."

The screams from the overgrown graveyard drowns these words out. The wailing grave bell welcomes the New Year again. END.

Saturday, December 18, 2021

Below the Partial Lunar Eclipse

 A month ago, a partial lunar eclipse happened, and the last time it was over three hours long was 580 years ago. This is a short exert of my experience of the event. I'll likely return to this memory and write more about it.

    Not since ~600 years ago has the moon been nothing more than the thinnest sliver imaginable. Over a few hours did the Earth's shadow nearly eclipsed the whole moon. My mom was barefooted, and I was in nothing more than a thin shirt and shorts. My grandma and younger sister were fast asleep. We watched as the moon receded from our sights. I took pictures with an old digital camera that only had 15% battery life. Cars returning home passed us by, likely not knowing a once-in-a-lifetime event was happening. The stars are barely visible in the California suburbs. But it's not the stars that held our attention between late night and technically morning. During our time, not staring at the moon and taking pictures with aching arms, my mom and I talked about anything that came to mind. I won't say what we talked about, for that for her and me. We stayed outside for some time viewing, and conversating as the moon became more shadow than light. Until the moon was the tiniest strand of light, did my battery finally die. We saw the partial lunar eclipse together, just like those almost 600 years ago. I'm grateful to have witnessed this event with my mom. This eclipse is something special I can never share with anyone else. It is with this knowledge that I'm satisfied with the moments I lived during the eclipsed.

The Moon is hardly there.

Patreon Request 19: Where the Poppies Grow

For the end of 2021, there will be two posts this December! Since a once in a lifetime celestial event happen, I couldn't help but write about it myself. If you would like to vote on upcoming posts to the blog, head over to my Patreon, and if you can become a patron. Also, if you like buy my poetry book, "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" and leave a review.

    Inside the forest depths, crimson water overflows. And from red waters rises white poppies. Blossoming poppies flood the bloody soil disguising the fallen bodies underneath. The heated noon causes the pungent smell of rot to drown out the perfume of poppies. The musk of spilled blood refuses to dissipate under the aroma of the floral scent. While time will speed on and history will remember the events of the war with floral-covered glasses, the scarlet blood will still pop through the bed of white poppies. The bed is full of war-torn bodies that even a trillion poppies can never hide. END.

Saturday, November 20, 2021

Patreon Request 18: Wolf Pack

 Hello everyone, it's that time again for the next blog post! If you want to vote on the December blog post, check out my patreon, and if you can become a patron. If you want to support me another way, please buy my poetry book "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" and leave a review.

    In the old country, the second son is sacrificed to the god, Wepwawet. The wolf head god takes the nameless second to transform them into warriors. Baptizing the infants in wolf blood, these babes are then raised to join the Wepwawet pack. The child's former blood kin can never see their sacrificed son again. His blood kin is now his fellows who follow Wepwawet. The warrior pack roams the desert, stalking outsiders. If the outsiders be a foe, the pack slaughters them all without care for age. Mangled bodies left behind are the only warning outsiders get. All praise Wepwawet! END.

Saturday, October 16, 2021

Patreon Request 17: Eternal Midnight

    It was a full moon that night when he came for me. I recently finished my schooling and got a part-time job to add another income to the household. I didn't believe the few times I served as his waitress would leave such an impression. He said it was my perfume that drew him to me. At the time, I couldn't understand I wasn't wearing perfume. But now I know what he meant. The aroma that clung to me came from beneath my skin. When the time came, he stole me away from the day. Trap in an endless night. END.

If you would like to support me and my content, become a patron of my Patreon. You can also help by buying my poetry book "Living Day by Day: A Collection of Poems" and leaving a review.

Saturday, October 9, 2021

Blog Update: The Future of Miniseries

    Hello, everyone here's another update about the future of my blog and patreon as I've been thinking about how I want to continue. As I move forward, I want to divide my energy in the most beneficial way that doesn't neglect Learning to Stand, but ensures that those who financially support me receive more than just blog posts. It was a hard decision, but I need to make sure that I don't strain myself when it comes to writing. Or using time that I haven't been compensated for.

    That's why, after the "Inquiring, Cheshire Cat" miniseries, all future miniseries will be patron-only. The miniseries already posted on Learning to Stand will remain here. This wasn't an easy decision, but if I want to have a career that will keep me healthy, I need to be practical. Creating miniseries takes time, research, and energy. I need to be realistic about how I'm going to move forward with my writing. If you want to continue having access to miniseries become a patron. Miniseries will be patron-only and there is a lot I offer to my patrons on patreon. I hope to see you there!

    As for writings for my blog, there'll still be different writing prompts. Learning to Stand will continue to update monthly. If you'd like for it to update twice a month, head over to patreon and help me reach the twice a month blog update goal. I want to update more, but I have other responsibilities, such as my education. I need to structure my blog around the time I have available and not overwork myself. If you want to read more from me, become a patron. Only by being a patron can I be more active and provide more creative work for you. I hope you're staying safe and healthy. The next blog post is October 16. If you'll like to vote on what is being posted, go to patreon to vote.