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Filomena Rocca Jan 2022
My poetry *****
I've zero *****
To give my art
My empty heart
Devoid of feel
Has no appeal
Toward the sheep
Who watch me weep
A worthless sound
A spring unwound
Potential spent
Becoming bent
Approaching death
Jehovah saith
He shall be ******
The preacher groaned
In deep denial
We must revile
All things defiled
And we deny
That one divine
These horrors binds
Into our lives
As such we try
In faith to live
As we forgive
Ourselves alone
As He atoned
For us, but you
He would not do
Predestination
An invitation
You can't take
Unless you fake
The way we do
And say it's true
What's in our book
Just take a look
And soon you'll see
Reality
Belongs to me
--I mean to Him
His power's within
My mortal flesh
And who would guess
That it was me
Was meant to be
A chosen one
A pointed gun
At those He hates
His wrath abates
When fire is cold
And time gets old
As was foretold
By prophets bold
Great men of old
Religion sold
The people told
Their word of gold
But on inspection
Their intention
Is control
To be the sole
Proprietors
And keep the people quieter
The evening of January 15, 2022
To break my writer's block,
I decided to write a string of rhyming couplets.
This was the result.
Filomena Rocca Nov 2018
A wise man once said,
"You can't wear pants made out of molten lead."
hey, vsauce, michael here
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
What are big girls made of?
Liquor with bubbles
That gets you in trouble.

What are big boys made of?
Stories and jokes
To bring home to your folks.

And what is the purpose of love?
To have a good time,
Without resorting to crime.
Psych ward poetry
Set 3, poem 55.
Filomena Rocca May 2021
"So how much will the rental be?", he hollers.
"A thrifty fee of fifty three green dollars."
Simple couplet written around a spoonerism.
Wrote this one a while ago.
Haven't published in ages so might as well.
Filomena Rocca May 2022
It's fun to be a freak
Just be sure you don't look weak
Because before you even speak
They'll be quick with their critique

Yeah, it's fine to be unique
But if safety's what you seek
Make the necessary tweak
Before you end up in the creek
Here I stand
I'm paralyzed

Not by terror
But by grief

I am a captor
Of the past

Until it fades
Into the dark

There you are
Alive and dead

I see you breathe
I hear you speak

And yet already
You are gone

I lost you, friend
And soon enough

The only thing
Uniting us

Will be our mutual silence
Filomena Rocca Jul 2023
Something, something, something else.
Nothing. No one cares.
Might be hardly anything.
I'll mind my own affairs.

Hello, mother. Hello, son.
Do you think your days are done?
I'm watching you descend to hell.
I want to break the spell.
Psych Ward Poetry.
Set 4, Poem 1
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
There are rolling pebbles
And falling rocks
The plain's in shambles
Of boulder flocks

I'd like to be
A standing stone
With rocks like me
Not all alone
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 15.
I'm a stranger in my own head,
A sojourner embodied.
As I lie here on my old bed,
Impressions flashing oddly.

I'm a stranger to my own needs,
my old provisions moldy.
I'm lost, can hardly proceed,
But must continue boldly.
I've been wrestling with the apparent and intimidating reality that I'm plural in some way.
Filomena Rocca May 2022
I'm stressing incessantly
And obsessing unpleasantly
Second-guessing at pleasantries
I'm progressing, but hesitantly

My headspace is mangled
And my thought strings all tangled
My bootstraps finangled
My hands shackled and strangled

I move forward, but slowly
With my forehead hung lowly
Whisper words for the lonely
Like my birdsong, if only
Filomena Rocca Mar 2021
When on a modern battlefield,
You shouldn't wield a wooden shield.
Sometimes I find that less is more, when I try to write a metaphor.
(Same idea as last poem but less elaborate.)
(Subtitle: Spoonerism 1)
The
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
The
The party's always over there is nothing more foreign or should I say ingenious say what would Judas priest of On my luck of the Irish coffee in the morning after the rain of terror eyes are up here you go, sir ten death and despair of pants the deer for water keyed entry way to go home is where the heart of the matter.
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 17.
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
I am cold and sterile,
And you are hot and fierce
But dressed in my apparel
Your radiance appears
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 36.
Filomena Rocca Mar 2022
The everything bagel
Left out on the table
Forgotten has gotten
All moldy and rank

In the ancient one's hovel
Suppose if you grovel
Avoid being boiled
In his scalding hot tank

It'll all be discarded
Make sure that it's guarded
The teachers and leechers
Assemblies to thank

But if you're taking chances
Despite circumstances
Assume that the room
Is just empty and blank
Filomena Rocca May 2022
They lead her out in irons
Like butchers lead a sheep
The screaming of the sirens
Awakes the town from sleep

On one arm walks an elder
On the opposite a priest
Behind, an executioner
His eyes raised to the east

Is this not what He wanted?
On Earth as in the sky
Just as Our Father promised
We'll see His enemy die

Around the grim procession
The people come in crowds
To see the wrathful session
Beneath the darkening clouds

Awaiting her arrival
At a place arrayed with skulls
For the sake of their survival
The congregation culls

Is this not what we wanted?
On Earth as in the sky
Just as Our Father promised
We'll see our enemy die

They hold her in position
Her face against a wall
Expecting some contrition
Expecting her to stall

But though her eyes show terror
They also show resolve
No apology for error
No need to be absolved

Is this not all they wanted?
On Earth as in the sky
Just as my father promised
They'll see his enemy die

His weapon at the ready
The headsman heaves a sigh
A lengthy hesitation
That makes her wonder why

She glances past her shoulder
At the killer in his place
And suddenly goes cold
As she sees her father's face

Is this not what you wanted?
On Earth as in the sky
Just as your Father promised
You'll see the enemy die

[Her] Coward!

[Executioner] *******!

[Elders] Demon ****!

[Crowd] ****! ****! ****!

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

The old man holds a grimace
And tightly shuts his eyes
His soul he sees as sinless
As fast his weapon flies
Lyrics of a metal style song I've been working on.
Filomena Rocca Jun 2022
Toasty toes
And a frosty nose
And a smile that glows
As along her way she goes

Because on her feet
Are a warm and fuzzy treat
That are tapping down the street
In a lovely laid-back beat

And she sees the stares
And she feels the passing glares
But she hardly even cares
It's a challenge no-one dares

So she walks along
Weaving proudly through the throng
And she sings her carefree song
Just so happy to belong

As her lover and friends
Never judge her based on trends
There's no need to make amends
With a world that just contends

Toasty toes
And a frosty nose
And a smile that glows
As along her way she goes
Lyrics for a Bossa Nova style piece I've been working on.
Filomena Rocca Feb 2022
I never make friends;
My friends make me.
And it happens incredibly infrequently.

I'm naturally passive,
and purposefully patient,
so I'm glad for the gift of assimilation.
Filomena Rocca May 2023
Up to the hills
I lift my eyes
The light and shadow plays

I feel the chills
That slowly rise
I see a soul ablaze

I want, I will
I coincide
The union of a gaze

If looks could ****
If time could hide
And hold its breath a phase

Know me, Slowly
Holy folly
Simple, sinful
Flint and kindle

Sowing, flowing
Slowing, glowing
Ahead a memory
Ember red
Filomena Rocca Mar 2022
The mage with her sage
was cleaning her cage
imagining tragedy's
angels engage

She erected a sigil
protecting her vigil
a palindrome had in Rome
angst to assuage

As she brought out her cards
she thought of the bards
had her spirit inherited
some of their ways?


When she put them away
she had cart loads to say
and the guides of her writing
stayed by her for days!
Late evening Thu. Mar. 3, 2022.
This more optimistic version was written immediately after the first.
So mote it be!
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
The Pen is mightier than the Sword?
The King of Hearts would have a word.

For what could be a mightier *****,
Much sharper than the stone and stick?
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 13.
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
There once was a ****** from France
Who lived with his brain in a trance
  They called him insane,
  So he climbed up a crane
And they sadly unbalanced his stance
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 4.
Filomena Rocca Apr 2022
I won't bite the hand that feeds me,
But I'll fight the man that bleeds me
Though the fear of him may sieze me
I won't let the terror freeze me

If we have a rightful reason
To commit an act of treason
Then I see no better season
To do more than put our pleas in

And so what if someone sees it?
Don't be quiet to appease it
To the system you don't matter
So be heard over the chatter

Can't you hear the summon pealing?
From the body comes the healing
Till the time of our releasing
Our resistance be increasing!
The Master of Chaos sat alone
on top of his almost invisible throne
and looked out into the dark and saw
that nothing could be seen at all

He said to himself, 'I'll make a light,
and put an end to this horrid night.'
as he sat there in his muted fright,
not knowing what was wrong or right

He flicked his finger; a flame flickered and flashed
and formed a faint figure in the infinite abyss
But he looked and saw still nothing at all
the darkness stood an impenetrable wall

Now at this time his anger grew
In place of the terror that he knew
As into the flame he spat and cursed
'How could my lot be any worse?'

A speck of his spittle then sputtered and sparked
And for a short moment a bubble there arced
In midst of that moment the Master thought quick
'To place all my power this point I will pick!'

Now pinpricks of light in the bubble appeared
And at their minuteness the Master then jeered
But one of those pinpricks the Master gave birth
Was an almost invisible one we call Earth

And onto its surface, as if as a joke
Some self-moving somethings to being he spoke
On one race of somethings he blasted his breath
But showed them no notion of darkness or death

Their ignorant bliss would not have long to live
As the Master was happy a dilemma to give
'Ignore your incorrigible longing to know
Or soon into darkness your heart I will throw!'

These somethings could not help their curiousness
And soon brought an end to their innocent bliss
They looked on the Master; in horror recoiled
And from that time forward in terror they toiled

In spite of this, certain determined to show
Their thanks to the place whence creation did flow
'The Master-- He made us. We owe Him our all.'
And so on the name of the Master they call

Now one such, a brother, got gifts from above
In contrast, the other heard nothing of love
In the depths of his being resentfulness grew
And soon into darkness his brother he threw

The boy's broken body returned to the Earth
And then did the living remember their worth
But the Master saw fit to deliver a curse
'For who kills the killer, it's seven times worse!'

But a spark of naivety still wasn't quenched
Even while all the old had their souls from them wrenched
And though many people just followed their will
A few kept their view of a duty to fill

Time passing, the Master elected one man
To shoulder the burden of Life in his hand
'You're special. I choose you. Complete now this task.
Your family will be sole survivers at last'

'Now thus I command thee: construct a great Box
And I'll bring you each beast, from the ant to the ox
The Box will be shelter for two of each kind
In performing this promise leave not one behind!'

The whole population soon started to ask
At the purpose and point of this puzzling task
But finding no answer they started to jeer
Not aware of the fate that was drawing so near

The Box was completed, the Chosen inside
Along with the beasts that had come to reside
And now that the plan had been put all to use
The Master was ready his hatred to loose

The Master broke open the fountains on high
And the wells of the Earth overflowed to the sky
These terrible torrents fast flowing like tears
Erased all the faithless, their hopes and their fears

But the Chosen were safe in the place that He gave
Even while all the others were sent to the grave
The Box remained buoyant for many a week
Till at last the Box landed upon a tall peak

The Master, now sated, declared to them thus:
'I never again shall devour with such lust
To each of all people who call on my Name
I'll lend preservation in spite of their shame'

A new generation now came to arise
That as they grew great grew exceedingly wise
They said to themselves, 'Let us build us a tower
And none shall compare to our glory and power'

The tower they built soon grew stunningly high
As the people then strove to reach even the sky
But the Master grew weary of this hubris of man
And as was His habit, He schemed a new plan

All people till now had had only one speech
That would grant understanding to learn and to teach
Thus people were able to work and create
With clear understanding to cooperate

The Master decided confusion to sow
And quickly construction then started to slow
Words became strange, understanding was gone
And with it ability to all get along

The people were fractured. They couldn't agree
And factions then found it expedient to flee
From then on the people began to spread out
And make their own places to worry about

Now the Master saw fit to commit to a choice
To limit the living who witness His voice
And even the Chosen, of which there were few
To each He provided a separate view

But still in each part He was greatly extolled
And tales of His terrible doings were told
Destruction of cities; Affliction of men
The only beginning; The ultimate end
A misotheistic epic
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
They hold her down
She casts her frozen gaze

Straight at the cieling
Peering through the haze

Within the meadows
Winding like a maze

She's lost
And wanders
As yet unknown ways
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 2.
I witnessed 6 restraint incidents on my first day in.
Filomena Rocca Jul 2022
A forest reflected
By river's clear flow
But both sides connected
By a bridge hanging low

I step through the mirror
Prolonging my path
Is everything clearer?
Or would I rather a bath?
Filomena Rocca Feb 2022
There's an addict in the attic,
and a trans girl in the tub;
There's an immigrant, Hispanic,
and a criminal in love.

There's a shaman burning incense,
and a gamer taking shots;
There's our upperclass equivalent,
and a noisy group of thots.

And the lady takes our livelihood
and somehow still stays poor,
so please make sure the lights are out,
and always lock the door.
Sat. Feb. 26, 2022
One word has been censored.
Filomena Rocca Mar 2022
The mage with her sage
was cleaning her cage
imagining tragedy's
angels engage

She erected a sigil
protecting her vigil
a palindrome had in Rome
angst to assuage

As she brought out her cards
she thought of the bards
had her spirit inherited
some of their ways?


When she put them away
she had nothing to say
and the guides of her writing
were silent for days
Late evening of Thu. Mar. 3, 2022
This pessimistic version was written first.
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
Am I your ugly step-sister?
A twisted plot device?
Or am I just an evil twin?
Please give me your advice.

I might be just a criminal,
Or possibly a spy.
I know I'm being cynical,
But tell me, am I right?
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 20.
Filomena Rocca Jul 2023
...The wall is white    The hall is long
  By stifling light    I crawl along

      I flick the switch    The lights go out
    Ahead in pitch    I hear a shout

Familiar voices     Calling me
The darkest choice     Is all I see        

         But moving on     The way to find
           Escape from all     The days in mind

A slice of my     Eternity
            Perpetually     Returns to be

                   The ruler of     My consciousness
           The cruelest of     All punishments
Psych Ward Poetry
Set 4, Poem 5
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
The Past and the Present,
Though neither are pleasant,
Both make me the person
That I am today

The Future that comes,
As the clock blindly runs,
Must be held by the reigns
So it won't run away
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 7.
..-. ..- -.-. ..-
Filomena Rocca Nov 2018
it feels pretty strange
being called by a phrase
that isn't my name
Filomena Rocca Nov 2018
society will **** me.
so will reclusivity
Filomena Rocca Nov 2020
"One original thought is worth
A thousand mindless quotings"

One familiar spot is full
Of countless concepts floating

In and out and around again
And though each thought is fleeting

It takes a while to find my pen
And I find my mind repeating
Psych ward poetry #10 (Second set)
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
A full eclipse of mind
Obscures all but the rind
Encrusted by the grime and dust
It's swelling from the stress inside
It looks like it might bust
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 40.
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
It's hip to be triangular
Acute and pointy everywhere
But maybe it's expedient
To dress up as a square
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 23.
Filomena Rocca Feb 2022
******* hell
stuck in gel
down a well
brownstone shell

jumbled brain
tumbling train
mumbling rain
crumb of pain

ghastly face
nasty trace
silent pace
file in place

all a game
act the same
feel no shame
killing name
Late Feb. 2022
Filomena Rocca Feb 2022
He said,
Now please attend
My praying class,
But don't offend
By playing crass!

I heard
A Crashing Cymbal,
Sounding Brass,
A Blasting Wind,
A Braying ***.

In the end,
Despite the way
The teacher tried,
I still remain
Unedified.
A Pauline reference.
Written Feb. 26, 2022.
Augmented and edited the following day.
Filomena Rocca Jan 2023
Really, girl? I swear to god.
You want to act like you're my friend?
You want to ask me for my thoughts?
Pretend they matter in the end?

Why should I even give a ****?
That wouldn't make an ounce of sense.
You say my kind should not exist.
Engage your brain's intelligence.

Please try to find self-honesty.
Who taught you all the crap you preach?
Is ethics a plutocracy?
You really think that's heaven's speech?

A fun fact now, so perk your ears.
There's several billion narcissists
All peddling the same appeals.
"My god is real! His will is this!"

Your pastor has no special call.
You haven't found the chosen few.
But since you won't hear sense at all,
I sadly can't be "friends" with you.
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
Unicorn sparkle
Bedazzles her toes
There's ink from a marker
On her fingers and nose

They call her creative
They say that she's smart
But her brain is insatiable
Without wisdom of heart
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 11.
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
To me it seems the more you know
The less you think you know.
So if you wonder "Do I know,"
The answer's always "No."
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 46.
Filomena Rocca Nov 2018
I haven't counted the bluebirds going by,
there can't have been more than a few, but
I always chase them away. I'm afraid
the raven doesn't see me yet.
Filomena Rocca Feb 2022
You can't erase your face.
You can't retrace or displace
the lines you dislike.
Some people try. Why?
At best it makes a mess.

Why am I upset by a little extra bone?
The external effects of my natural testosterone?
How can a bit of unwanted hair excite despair?
Why do I care?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I pointlessly worry
about silly points
like the size of my shoulders
or my knee and thumb joints.
My hairline, my brow ridge,
the shape of my nose,
my masculine pelvis,
my crooked man toes...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes are fine --
My only feature I like.
My shy smile is alright
but not too wide
'cause of my overbite --
-- the size of those incisors!

Now, some would say that I'm just vain,
so self-obsessed I've gone insane.
But I would say that's how we're trained,
At least in this day and age.

Others might paint me like Dorian Gray
praying to Satan for youth to stay,
but I just wish it hadn't gone this way.

Why would you keep your looks immutable
if you were never to begin with beautiful?
Nov. 2018 - Feb. 2022
I wrote most of this poem from a pre-transition perspective.
My circumstances and perspective have changed a fair bit.
I tried to emulate the original perspective in my later additions.
Filomena Rocca Nov 2023
le ka voksa bacru stati
kei cu tutci lo nu krati
.i le nunkakne mi cu xlali
gi'e ku'i ze'e stali

.i mi .ai ba ca'o ciska
da noi su'o de cu viska
.i ba cpedu fa le prina
lo nu lo voksa cu se jmina

.i no da tcidu gi'e nelci
vau lo .oi mi mabla pemci
.i ca le .o'o cabna temci
le mi voksa cu xe benji

.i na sisti lo nu ciska
.i se mukti lo nu djica
lo nu su'o drata simsa
ka'e jimpe fi lo pixra

.i mi snada .au je troci .ei
pu le nu mi morsi kei
Filomena Rocca Mar 2023
jan wan li toki e ni: sona li wawa.
jan ante li toki e ni: mani li wawa.
jan seme li toki pona?

sona li pana e wawa lawa sijelo.
mani li pana e wawa lawa jan.
wawa seme li suli?
ni li sona mani.


Some say that knowledge is power.
Others say that money is power.
Who is right?

Knowledge grants power over the self.
Money grants power over others.
But which power is greatest?
Knowledge of Money.
Filomena Rocca Jul 2023
Weaknesses
And lack of strength
Decay abandoned
Left at length

Bad gets worse
Weighed down by waste
A rotten cursed
Forgotten place

Will anyone
Remember you?
And if they did,
What could they do?
Psych Ward Poetry
Set 4, Poem 3
Filomena Rocca Jan 2022
Another day
The Winter blows
My life away
And Summer knows

It's only just
A short respite
I'm ground to dust
And put to flight
While posting my recent poetry
This poem somehow slipped through the cracks.
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
What doesn't **** you
Makes you cry
And rage at fate
And wonder why

What seems to call you
Pulls you in
And makes you hate
Or makes you sin

And I can't tell you
Which is which
But don't conflate
You'll end in pitch
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 16.
Filomena Rocca Aug 2022
What you do is what you know.

What you know is what you've seen.

What you've seen is not your fault.

So do your best; make cycles halt.
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 8.
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