It’s officially Neil Gaiman’s birthday today! My normal reaction to it being someone’s birthday (including my own) is to loudly exclaim YOU’RE OLD HAHAHAHAHAHA, but for once I shall refrain. Not because the amazing Neil is not old, because obviously he is in comparison to me, but because Neil’s stories just keep getting better with age. Not that I don’t think his early stuff is amazing (seriously obsessed with Sandman), but I think we can expect nothing but great things from him in the future. With that said: HURRY UP AND PUBLISH SOMETHING ELSE! I’m going to run out of his previously published material (thanks to the library in Halifax which has almost all of it), and I grow weary of having only his (wonderful though they are) blog/tumblr/etc for new material. Please please please publish something new! Or at least tell Borderlands Press to hurry the eff up and send me my copy of The Little Gold Book of Ghastly Stuff that I am very much impatiently waiting for.
The proper topic of today was supposed to be Mirrormask (the Neil Gaiman + Dave McKean film) and the fashion wherein, but I found this little poem that I wrote back in 2006 during a Young Author’s Convention that my BFF Liz dragged me to, and I felt that it fit the theme of the film quite well. It’s a little strange, and a lot surrealist, so don’t be surprised if you get to the end, and go “what the fuck just happened here.” That’s how I always feel at the end, and I wrote the damned thing!
Untitled, or the Mirror
The devil sat on his shoulder
The angel long fallen
Red face grinning with glee
Licking bloated lips
Clean from blood
Stained with sin
And a lifetime
Of joyful corruption.
The mirror reflects the duality
With startling Truth
Like a beam of light
From clouds broken
By a hidden sun
Sharing the azure sky
With wingéd messengers
Wheeling in a land of Forever.
He’ll never be the same;
Forever single-sided.
No mental debate
Ever the same
Never changed by the outer.
Ever alone,
Even though it’s not by choice,
But rather by fate.
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