My Cardboard Balcony

While I can't say this was a decision long in the works, I think it's a good one. So here goes. Friends and lovelies, today marks the tenth anniversary since I started this freelance writing. It will also be the last day I update it. It has been a blast to write on this blog every single day. It has forced me to stay creative, produce writing, and share my work with all of you. I have been able to experiment with new styles and concepts with my poems, and disciplining my ability to write in a short amount of time or with a limited number of words has been eye-opening, to say the last. It's also been exhausting at times to maintain this blog. When I started it in 2011, I was fresh out of college, working odd jobs, and still living at home while continuing a long distance relationship. Now I'm a self-published author, I'm married, I'm working a full time teaching job, and I'm planning on raising a family. I have written even more plays and short works (even th...

My Exit by Belinda Roddie It's been fun, y'all. But I'm done with this blog.

Percussive Denouement by Belinda Roddie Almost exactly ten years ago, I wrote about stream-of-consciousness nostalgia at only twenty-two years. White Russians were still my go to at bars like Paul's in Orange. Shervin and I don't speak much these days. I stirred in a healthy seasoning of pseudo-enlightenment about poetry as if I, a gay enby with the complexion of mayonnaise, could hold words in my hands as comfortably as my cats before they squirmed for escape. The illusions I thought I wove were merely fraying threads on a sweater (they still are. But at least the fabric is still mostly intact). I do not create illusions. I am fooled by them. My stories are influenced by weird dreams. And I have gained more weight in ten years. And I have seen more heartbreaks in ten years. And I know panic attacks like old friends at bars where I can barely stomach dairy, unlike ten years ago. The decade has been shaky, achy, riddled with holes. Termites and bullets didn't cause my wounds...

Relaxant by Belinda Roddie In this moment, I seek more time and less energy.

Deaf To Howling by Belinda Roddie They said the dogs barked all night. I heard silence.

Fin by Belinda Roddie All things must, eventually, come to an end. Whether by curtain fall, or waterfall. By knifepoint or viewpoint. By tidal wave or brain wave. All things must come to an end.

Not The Bees by Belinda Roddie Sophie's hands shook. They were stained with blood and honeycomb.

So. I'm focusing on investigative journalism with my juniors. I'm making sure my sophomores can handle Of Mice and Men. I just adapted one of my favorite movies into a stage play and read it with my theater company (and got to play the main character). I then got to socialize with some good friends (and new friends, too). And now I. Am. Sleepy. But what else is new? Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

The Cynic's Answer by Belinda Roddie “It’s impossible,” Said pride. "It’s risky," Said experience. “It’s pointless,” Said reason. “Give it a try,” Whispered the heart. -Unknown Response The heart was drunk again, cross-legged on a stool that swiveled like the world on fire. And when it told me to "hold its beer," I was immediately vigilant. Because I knew it was impossible, it was risky, and it was pointless. But only Reason said these, and I could trust her because she was beautiful, and she dressed well, and most importantly, as she called the heart a cab, she knew when it was time to go to bed for the night, before the heart, God forbid, broke something in the fall.

End Of The Line by Belinda Roddie The train's last stop was right where my father died.

Just So You Know by Belinda Roddie Just so you know, I don't believe in true love's kiss, or in soulmates, or in any concept of romance in the slightest. You can call me cynical, and I may be, but I've been burned too much to move too close to any flames of "passion." Now, I don't oppose a gift of a chocolates or a rose, but those are merely gestures, and I won't be moved by them. Physical contact, sure, can thrill me, but my mind will not be swayed, no will your words change me, though they be pure from falsehoods or betrayal. Now, have I made myself clear, or will you continue to try to prove I should be in love with you?

Were They Green? by Belinda Roddie Greg hated eggs, and Sam despised ham. Go figure, huh?

Later, Lee Good riddance to bad rubbish, especially if it's in a gray and brass uniform, and also especially if it's a man who, matter of fact, sucked as a general.

Life Goals by Belinda Roddie Personally, I want to decapitate baddies while on a unicycle.

Climax by Belinda Roddie just like a wandering girl, she descends to where the valley rises to be satisfied by the crescent moon

Tomato Terror by Belinda Roddie Ketchup burned Kevin's skin. No idea why. It just did.

Donut Shop Romance by Belinda Roddie yeah, let me grab a pretty boy for $2.25 and a cup of spiced chai for an added good time he looks pretty in pink and tastes pretty damn sweet I'll stop drinking caffeine once my heart skips a beat

Awesome by Belinda Roddie Just adapted one of my favorite films for the stage.

The Happy Amateur by Belinda Roddie I like drawing, sir. I'm just not good at it. Painting by Jennings Tofel.

by Belinda Roddie Save the bees. Save the bees. Save the bees. Save the bees. Save the bees. Save the bees. Save the bees. Save the bees. I don't know what else to write today. Just save the bees. Thanks for the prompt, wifey.