My Cardboard Balcony

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.

Void by Belinda Roddie This is the part where I write absolutely nothing though the irony is to write nothing I used words

And Sometimes, It Rains by Belinda Roddie Good neighbors serve stale sweets We make ends meet on dead end streets The street lamp has flickered for five years. We still haven't figured out its Morse code - not yet, anyway. And no one will fix it. Some say ghosts have set up shop there. And perhaps they sell candles with just the hint of a cinnamon scent. Outside what was once a jazz café, a busker plays His violin has seen way better days Two coins in his snapback. That's it. The drunken keyboardist at the BART station makes way more. Would someone tell him to play something other than, "Chopsticks," please? He doesn't know chords or personal accord of any kind Hey, got a light? Nah, man. Haven't seen light since she left. Damn, we got a new Edgar Allan Poe over here! Okay, raven boy, do you got a fucking light? The bakery's still open but it's always cold and the bread's always stale and the owner's eyes are always filled with fog Nothing soun...

Verse By Verse by Belinda Roddie What was once love has compounded itself to dusty lust, drawn by the scarcely paralyzing bliss. Still, I feel no animosity against the sleeping shadow who cradles cheap words against her bosom like dead stars. Her shape arises here in the transparent mist, and I can almost trace my own lineage across her ribcage. She has the face of her counterfeit queen, and I, a mere minstrel, can only serenade her with poetry I did not write. This was written using the Google Research tool Verse By Verse. The poets I took suggested lines from were Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman.

Tiger by Belinda Roddie The butterfly and the pussycat went on a picnic at ten, played until the sun went down, and slept before doing it again.

Date Night by Belinda Roddie Sushi and noodles. White wine. Luca on the TV. Super Mario Party on the Switch. Lots of cuddles. Works for me.

I Tried by Belinda Roddie I tried to write stuff before it got late at night; all I got's haiku.

Life Plans by Belinda Roddie I'll name her Aubergine and she'll marry at seventeen to a woman named Tangerine and they'll wed in a submarine where their kisses will taste like nicotine and kerosene

RSD by Belinda Roddie I didn't ask to ride this emotional roller coaster. And there are no seatbelts or lap bars. Get me off this fucking thing. I need a adult. WHAT DO YOU MEAN, I'M  THE ADULT?! GET ME A BETTER ONE!

Mastery by Belinda Roddie I only was saved from drowning because you taught me how to swim. However, now it's you who's being dragged down by heavy fingers coated with salt - overseasoned oceanic deity, like summer steak sitting senselessly in the sun.

Autofill: Pride Edition by Belinda Roddie   Red is the color of the blood that flowed. Orange is the color of my love. Yellow is the color of her eyes. Green is the color of your energy. Blue is the color of my dreams. Violet is the color of humility. Fuck indigo, I guess. Google don't count indigo.

Alligator Man by Belinda Roddie There's the Alligator Man officiating another wedding: This time, it's two lovely ladies in burgundy vests and bowties, while Jessi "Rattlesnake" Munson prepares to play the fiddle for their first dance after moon pies. The Alligator Man is tall and lanky, and his face looks green and scaly in just the right spectrum of light. When he sings, he sounds like Louis Armstrong. And when he dances, the floor moves with him, like a wave along a beach's open lips. I bought a drink for the Alligator Man after he officiated my own wedding. We drank bourbon together in sweaty suits under a sweatier sunset. He was in love with my girl's mother, who would've loved him back had she not lost all her senses two years ago. Even the Alligator Man can hope for Heaven.

Descent by Belinda Roddie and so your soul is painted gold and so you're carried to cribs of ghosts and so you're summoned to gods' sweet bowls of soup, where you drink your sins of old

Recovery by Belinda Roddie My boy is getting better and that is all that matters My boy has braved some weather and that is all that matters His healing's what I like and that is all that matters I am so proud of Spike and that is all that matters

Search Engine Numbers by Belinda Roddie 404 area code 404 error 505 parnassus avenue 6666 angel number 666 shoes 666 meaning (no devil to be found?) 777 broadway 800 pesos to dollars 800 meters to miles 800 words that mean absolutely fucking nothing

Be Back Later by Belinda Roddie I can't talk right now: I'm doing hot vacation shit.

A Throuple by Belinda Roddie Bring me two lovely ladies in an alternate universe, and I shall lay betwixt their bosoms with warmth radiating between my lips. One shall be queen, the other a star, and I am merely the supernova waiting to appear in your future. But in this universe, I am perfectly content to be monogamous with a woman who is the entire cosmos. Why shirk off the entire universe when you can kiss it any time of day?

Spike? by Belinda Roddie Perhaps our feline son shall have a sibling. Perhaps an older brother. Like this handsome dude. But we'll see!

Fucking FIX THIS! by Belinda Roddie I want to say something so badly. I want to say something so badly. I want to say something so badly. I want to say something so badly. I want to say something so badly. I want to read the riot act until I'm blue in the face. But I can't. Because they don't see it. They don't get it. And it makes me wanna SCREAM .

Oh, God by Belinda Roddie Should I do poetry? A story? Some other nonsense? What the fuck?!