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The Secret World of Arrietty 2010

I believe in Nothing,
after This is all over,
before Everything began,

So if This is Something,
even just a little bit…
it matters who I spend my time with.

You’re so in love it sets your eyes on fire.
See, I need to feel that too.
I’m simply not falling in love with you.

So take back your gifts of golden bracelets.
I don’t feel comfortable giving them away.
Though soft and made of finer things…

They are chains all the same.

-six pm

Paige Six | 2021


*a draft I’ve been aspiring to finish since I’ve sought to build off of the final stanza since 2017. It’s still sitting on my chest. One of the mornings I’m going to rise and sing the right companion verses. Until then, we have this.

There is strength in our power, power in our pain. Not everyone can be touched, struck, and survive. Energy is worth the same; passion or pain. Those who have been through the most have the most to let go.

Make music, not excuses. Chase art, not fame. Build something lasting, the empire’s collapsing. Made of paper, and we harness fire. Don’t be afraid to ask the stars for what you desire.

{*rant inspired by good vibes and Guante, because lightning struck twice.

Avatar the Last Airbender 2005-2008

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Stars crossed the moment our eyes met, but at this hour when the sun set herself upon the meridian, casting us both aglow in gold each other’s gazes are all we two did behold. It was six o’ clock P.M. and Autumn had set the air to chill. Wind-span of air from the Earth’s lungs rustled the golden leaves mimicking the distinct sound of a deep and endless ocean. He was truly remarkable, 6’3 and tanned like wheat with honey brown eyes and thick curly black hair faded high and tight. He smiled at me brightly, and I did my best to breeze past him, but truth-be-told he’d simply rendered me speechless. I don’t believe before that moment I’d believed in first sight love, even then I don’t think I understood what had just begun. In that moment I only hoped that if no one ever chased me down for a second chance again, that this man would. And he did. -six pm

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The Simpsons 1989-2020

° .

today i purchased einstein theories in hard back. no. i did not need another copy but my first three are already full of poetry in the margins and in between spaces. my husband reminds me of a beau tiful black hole the way his darkness glistens. i love him. he’s done some shady things; he is my her o. i thank him for his service. he thanks me for loving all the parts of him that are broken; he thanks me for allowing him to lick my places that tas te like good woman. sometimes; i want to wash his eyes of all the slaughter he saw in war; no. i want to sink into his gravity and know more. no. i want to unwrinkle time tidy like his dress blues that a freak fire burned. i want to travel back in time and tie together pinky fingers w. ribbons he has earned. i am not a genius. no. but i know the difference between general and special relativity: he and me; we’re something especially special. our love affair is a continuum…     -six pm


six pm | 2019

Photo: Paige Six | 2018

Recently, I’ve really been taking it easy with Poetizer. Focusing a bit more on building an audience on All Poetry, and to take some time to do some novel reading in between. However, last night I decided to revive an old poem there, (and here) with some new formatting and design implements.

It really paid off, because I’m neck and neck for the top poem of the day… I could take the top spot any minute. It’s exciting tbph! (currently I rank 35% more unique comments and only 1.07% less likes sooo… b:)

I haven’t had this much success on Poetizer in well over a year. It feels nice to get such a warm reception again.

I really do love writing poetry. And *furloughed in particular is a special piece that I think is a cut above so much of what I’ve shared up until this point.

Thanks for sharing in my joy. I hope you’re well. (:

-Paige

Paige Six | 2/25/21

Photograhy: Paige Six | 2017

I don’t do drugs very often, but I smoked the other day for my birthday and totally had a philosophical and maybe even religious level of an experience. I’m mourning my mother and I think I’m trying to connect with her particles here in spacetime. I was meditating on religious art, and iconography, and how we inherit these beliefs which are all that stands between us and insanity when we’re approaching moments of *true fear. I was just about to read her prayer for the first time, and my sister called (she was the only person to call for my birthday) telling me that she was planning on making me this pie that I’d be craving all week. Life is strange, and I can totally appreciate those elements as poetic inspiration. How else do we explain them?

I had a religious experience once, when I was 14. I started to question it when I started to understand how the brain works. I don’t know what the answers are, but I do think I’m starting to understand the difference between faith and reasoning, and I hope to find that there is a way to have both. Because I find true solace in the imagery of my mother’s prayer cards. I think it’s important for people who are at the mercy of forces well beyond them to have something sacred in which they can lean on when faced with truly harrowing experiences. I don’t think we need proof of God for that to be important to many people. I also don’t think you need to believe in God to find solace in iconography, or any beautiful art, place, or person. I miss my mother dearly, and I would give anything to commune with her again.

And finally in lighter news, Abraxis Nothing who’s a fellow and talented poet over on Poetizer shared his feedback with me on *ad nauseum, “[…]to paraphrase (rip off? riff off?) Claude Shannon – ‘information is surprise.'[…]”. I have never received higher praise. I did post the poem here in my Poetry segment, however I played around with the fonts on Poetizer and I think I like that version more. I’m not sure yet.

Paige Six | 11.24.20

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longing captured in a snow globe. frozen as the contents stiffen, but of salt & sadness, dissipating & cooling winter water: trine, threefold, vexing, upsetting at uncracked glass. ice forms and is expanding, extending to rupture; to break free of its crystalline prison cell.

//

an orb; a distorted window; a fish bowl: if only momentary perfection; encapsulated within its prism; tiny planet; polished patiently; unholy prison. stranded atop a marble mantle in the castle of my memory. the room within my palace where I recall every essence of you, your earthy scent of virility, of indica smoke, & each number you represent to me. three. three. three. .333… repeating. irrationally.

//

although life moves me forward, it will be you, my effervescent darling, who anchors me to the present. i no longer fear onsets of dementia. when the insects of age attack to decay my brain; when God and Devil battle to beguile every soul aching to be enraptured; I just want you to know:

//

i still love you. you were my end and my beginning.

//

and yes, maybe i am a hopeless romantic, twisted as my bed sheets. maybe all i have left to show in this cold life are our warm embraces, our hot encounters, the pointed reasons we failed each other, our muted mysteries (there are so many). but maybe, *omitted, these memories are all i’ll ever need.

six pm | *memory games