Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → saphire's poetry and stuff

This is a response to Greta's most recent speech, and to the American Conservative news' reaction to it.

I speak under Greta’s name, not through manipulations or by lure of payment. I am inspired by her, and ashamed of my own apathy, my own willingness to let the inaction of our world slide. You mock her as a child, as naive and inexperienced. Why do you have the right to say that, when as old as you are you still believe that leaving work til the last minuet is a viable way to an outcome of quality, treating the climate like homework due in the next day, and still deciding to sleep. Since when has the number of years lived limited the respect someone is owed? You marvel at child prodigies, applaud their parents supporting their endeavours, yet here you stand to deny a prodigy of politics the right of respect earned by the achievements of one so young. How do you even dare to see yourself better than her. You preach fear of immigrants crossing the border, the assurity that a wall to keep out those in need of aid works better than no longer creating the events that they flee from. Will you then justify walls along state lines? Would you justify caging American people in the name of self preservation, as they flee homes broken by hurricanes, drowned in floods, as Lady liberty herself begins to tread water. Would you deny them the right to life and liberty as they run? Undeniably American, fleeing from destruction caused by inaction. That is the future. We sat on our heels too long, that IS the future. Starvation, water made undrinkable, housing crisis. Not that the USA hasn’t been ignoring those for years already. Just ask Flint. Just ask Puerto Rico, or any of those homeless vets that you keep bringing up. Do you have the guts to say that you would switch places with any one of them? Because if you do then shame on you, and if you don’t then why are you shilling for policies that will make these issues worse and more frequent? You are then the worst kind of hypocrite; you claim to have no power, yet actively use the power you deny to cause or support the suffering of millions. Even terrorists in Somalia are more concerned about the environment than you. Shame on you for your insults, proving you have no counter to her words, only her bearing. Shame on you for believing in some miracle to come and save your skin. If your magic man in the sky does exist, did He not say to be steward of the earth? To protect and care for His gift to humankind? Then shame on you further for refusing the demands of your own beliefs. It is not the job of scientists to create the legislation that they call for. They have been fighting this war on their own ground for decades, against conspiracies that you gleefully spawn, is that battle worthless to you? Do you only believe the most mistrusted profession of politician, in some contrary desire to feel powerful? To misquote someone you seem to love so much, “Science doesn’t care about your feelings” and the science has been shouting from the roofs of high-rises and chemical plants and coal mines for over a century now. If you do not believe the young speaker, or the old science, then how ancient does an idea have to be for it to ring true in your ears? How immature has age made you? We are coming to change the world, and we are not afraid to leave your old ideas to be buried by the sands of time, and your names with it. The future will call Greta a hero, a leader. It will look past you with disgust.

I wash up, and watch each blade glide across my arms.
I bathe and see myself sink beneath the surface
I see each edge as an end to more than just the road,
each rope as more than the belt or curtain tie.
I see each flame as beautiful destruction
and food drips poison in every bite.
Each argument has my name as the cause
the anger in each eye grown from a seed I had sewn.
I see my paranoia as nothing but selfish,
each illusion as nothing more than self-centred desire to resist existence.
They contradict, and fight and bicker.
I am selfish for being in people's lives. Selfish for wanting to leave them.
I live every death my mind can devise for me, acted out in perfection
as real as dreaming, as painful as life.
The chemicals that I gave myself to heal with are feathers against the wind,
hatred is king again, loathing is a tyrant, with all its ire brought down to bear
on this thing that is me.
I had a dream that I mattered to myself, and now I am awake,
all I got was a glimpse of what it would be like to wake up
and see something worth looking after reflected back at me,
and I ache for it, loathing myself for waking up from that perfect moment of clarity,
knowing it just beyond my reach once again.

This is what I am
I am a mask of myself that I wear when my courage falls short
I am a cartoon parody, caricature of what I know people see in me.
Each environment demands a different face to stand against scrutiny, and when my face cried "mutiny!" at the restrictions I require I say "hush, just for this occasion, reflect their desires into your eyes, and let me wear them as if those gems were mine."
My skin is a costume that moulds with the weather, to weather each storm I hurl myself at. And when my body screams in agony at the abuse I inflict I say "hush, this time will be the worst, just endure, ensure I stay standing and strength will be yours." I promise myself that each act is the last, that I'll rip away the curtain, the costumes, the mask in a glorious finale, and scream to the mirrors that "this is the last you will ever see of this clown. Tear this theatre down!" But the serenade of the stage calls calm to my rage. It sings "dance for me! I will find you inside these nooks you crawl to. I will shine each blemish smooth with my glow, I will set mouths in joyous sound, and mockery only when you call me to. I will glide you across boards, support each stumble, be your balm when needle-sharp whispers stitch your teeth together. I will bring peace to your own storm as The Tempest rages through human feats. Your mask is welcome here, known and loved and passed between gentle hands in honour of its beauty. You are not cast aside if you spin your shame into a cloth worn with pride. These are words that hold my soul inside.

The Arctic ice has turned to sand,
I saw a polar bear getting tanned
Glacial funerals mark the poles
As we fail to fill our steward roles
If religious Zeal drives your heart
Then scripture calls you to make a start
and care for creatures great and small
not deny your part and kill them all
If money is the god you choose
then what have you got left to loose?
Pockets full on slick black oil,
will empty when sea takes its toil
That precious gain you sit upon
Will line your grave when food is gone
Nothing growing, nothing breathing
No one left to do the grieving
of this planet dead in space
scorched by the greed of one dumb race
Who didn't stop those who always craved more
From ripping down their own front door
In hopes that splinters would be gained
We stared in awe as madness reigned
So Amazon burns down through Brazil
as fat cat leaders gorge their fill
I see two paths split off ahead
Downhill we fall to a road of dread
to climb we band as humankind
or our legacy to history is resigned
One earth, our border the atmosphere
count down on two hands to our final year
we mush take this moment to force a switch
Or our future is grim; we must eat the rich.

(Just to clarify, I do not condone cannibalism. )

Ok, I don't know what just happened, but my thread views just went from about 9000 to about 16000 in a day. Is this a glitch or something? WTF just happened? XD (panicking inside)

Poverty is a choice.
It always has been.
To say that it is not is to fail to understand
The way that this world has come to work.
It is the choice of those that have money
to withhold it from those without.
You cannot be rich without making many others poor
Poverty is a choice.
It is the choice of the CEO
to outsource to China
to lay of thousands in order to line their pockets in silk.
It is the choice of landlords
to strip bare a room and demand higher rent
then oust the human in order to fleece
a new tenant, with a dearer lease.
Poverty is a choice.
It is in the hypocrisy
of sneering at the "lazy" unemployed homeless
then turning up noses in disgust as they come
looking for honest work.
Poverty is a choice
When two thirds of students will never pay back their loans
that barely covered rent
that never covered food.
Just for the chance at a minimum wage job
and a dream of owning the roof they sleep under.
When the budget for lunch of a handful of politicians
is greater than the money given to a nation of school children for meals
when the budget for war is greater than the support for health
when debt demands more debt from those who cannot hope to pay
when house and car and children taken away
Poverty is a choice.
and is made by those who will never see their actions take the lives
of the men and women that serve their country
in the three jobs that it takes to live,
to just survive.
Being broke is a lack of money, not a lack of character.
Those who can't scrimp, starve.
And they call us addicts, layabouts, leeches.
As if their love of fine wines is nobler than a taste for cheap booze.
As if a love of coke was somehow more refined than a taste for pot.
Poor addicts are trashy, rich ones are victims. As if either party needed any less help. Yet which do we rush to defend, protect, shower support on?
Poverty was always a choice.
Those with never think to question it
Those without have never had the change to buy it.

Ah, a lovely piece as always Sapphire. Always happy to see an update.

@EntryHazard Thanks. I'm glad that people still like it! I know it's changed a lot over the years.

Esc
Gamers and dancers
Market advancers
singers and writers
Wrestling ring fighters
painters and acrobats
LARPers, Aristocrats
catwalk,and Cosplay
meditate or pray.
Hard liqueur, soft drinks
no time to overthink
Use what works best
take your time, have a rest.

For the First Telling

Will you come and hear with me?
A tale under the Juniper Tree?
fairy promises
twisted tails
silver fish with shining scales?

Will you come and drink with me?
Harvest come from Juniper tree?
strong and dry
Or sugar sweet
Where tellers come and talk and meet.

Will you come and share with me?
The tales that spring from the Juniper tree?
Woven lies
and ugly truths
of kings and queens and knaves and youths.

Will you stay and grow with me
in the boughs of the Juniper tree?
Roots down deep
Leaves to the sky
the founding seed but 5 feet high.

Will you come and watch with me
the bones that fall from the juniper tree?
Each tale must pass
buried in mind
To grow in the next ear that it finds.

I see them up there
observed in awe
as I serve tables
and take away trays

I watch them high-flying
on silk wings they do soar
I yearn for that beauty
as they bask in praise.

Hours of practice
shine through in their art
though those that are watching
see nought but veneer

an impassioned craft
calls me to my part
Remind me once more
That I belong here

A waiter twice over
I run to that light
to stride and to soar
on silks and on rope

Hang up this apron
to hear a crowd roar
Delighting the stranger
is my future, I hope.

With voice of oak,
the strength of shadows
he has returned to me

triumph in my veins
a steady hand in trying times
as those I know turn on me
I fall into his comfort

I hear him for the first time
no longer formless
always fearless, as I can never be
friend of a decade, he has come back to me.

And now true strength,
motivation is mine
as demons run from him
and peace is restored once more

I am freedom
the woods stretch out before me
where once was fire and anger
the cool breeze and green trees
welcome back their estranged companion

He has come back to me
and brought with him my joy
He is mine once more
begin again the days
of a whole and healthy mind.

To all the witcher fans, who also happen to be students with a tendency to put off work, I present a thing I did whilst avoiding working on an essay due in 11 hours. Enjoy.

When an essay due
Caught us unawares
We drank down our coffee
And struggled to care
About 3000 words
That lies months out of sight
We thought time was plenty
Back then we were right
Months turned into days
And days started to leap
The work keeps on calling
So we sacrifice sleep
While the deadline calls
From the textbook heap
"Extention denied"
So we're starting to weep
Toss a source to your student oh wiki of pedia, oh wiki of pedia, oh oh oh,
Toss a coin to your student, oh wiki of pediaaaaaaaaaaah
At the edge of the dawn
Find the extra words
That fill in your word count
But don't sound absuuuuuurd
Sacrifice your health
Take 6 books of the shelf
And hope that the reference
Is in the right fooooorm
Ah hah
When a simple task, placed before a class
Procrastination
Bit us in the ***
Thus an epic fail
But somehow we prevail
Completed the essay
But still looking paaaaale
Toss a source to your student oh wiki of pedia, oh wiki of pedia, oh oh oh!
Toss a source to your student, you're there when we need yaaaaaaa

Thank you

@Jeffrywilliams No worries.

I had an idea; if people want to be notified when I post, if you put on my profile page something along the lines of " please keep me updated on your thread" or something, then I can tag you when I post new stuff. Just an idea.