Literary Ode to failure Ryan Bolton, Editor Is est securus occumbo, ferreus ut orior oriri ortus. How I flout at you oh failure! I sneer and scoff upon you. teeming, seething, breeding. Oh, how we have met before in mystical epic war. You, with heads of tedious serpent I, a surly peasant. Your constant challenge I do await it is you that I do bait.
River Maeve Strathy
relentless, heinous, omnipotence. I watch you amongst the present, lurking in your yellow shadow licking your tongue into the corners of the night, goose-stepping behind me crying “Sieg Heil” thrice. Oh failure, release my weapon bearing hand, your lines taunt as a snickering farceur frightening my beloved muse. Oh, mischievous usurper of my peace, your snide ways captured their minds. plath, hemingway, poe. You riddle them, you riddle me, “Oh failure, I chant your terrifying name!” Dare you not take your bow! “Satis est satis” so pray, let me lay. You, headless Winged Victory, how you are within me!
My identity is a river Ever flowing, ever moving Fluid, in and out of bigger bodies My body is a river It is mine to have and to hold It is free; free to be molded and changed You cannot grab rivers Or hold them in your hands As such, you cannot grab me and Brand me for society Mine is my identity Mine to find, mine to choose Mine to win and mine to lose Not yours to label Yours to bind Yours to lose or yours to find Somewhere in your binary of two I’m in between and so is she And he – and thee So let me flow And let me be, You be you And I’ll be me