Six! (countdown) Five! (until) Four! (my) Three! (next) Two! (breakdown) One! DAMN.
Poetry – Countdown
bipolar poetry
Poetry – It Isn’t All It Might Be
The future is yours and the present is mine, but it isn't all it might be. Things go wrong. I talk to myself. I can't explain it at all - whether I guess right or wrong, I can't be the first to speak - or the last. In the end, there is nothing I desire so much as to become nothing.
Poetry – Seasick Bathing
The bathroom wall moves. It ripples and sways with the mournful, desolate sound of the radio. Ocean blues and greens meant to calm only inspire vertigo. What are those things I see? Leaves? Seashells? Jealous sea foam? I lay back, releasing my grip as the tub empties and my consciousness follows circling slowly, among the dirty water before it all disappears down the drain together.
Poetry – Unwanted House Guest
Depression barges in again.
No invitation.
No explanation.
No deposit.
No references.
No promises.
And no move out date.
Poetry: Sword Care Instructions
Sword Care Instructions
By: Maranda Russell
After sharpening,
dust the bejeweled hilt
and place the sword
in clean purple cloth.
Afterwards,
you may admire its sparkle
but do not take internally,
as metal is poisonous
and organs puncture easily.
Poetry – At Your Service
At Your Service
By: Maranda Russell
One more
lost little girl
at your service.
Actually,
that’s a lie.
I’m not
at your service.
I’m not
at your anything –
and I never
shall be
again.
