A.J.S(torming)

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chaotic neutral, the popular flavor: a poem

Azure Jo Storm — Sat, 23 May 2026 14:02:43 GMT

Sticky lips of cherry, puffy from sucking,
Mouth coated by blood signs, not fearing cuts from the
Warning middle,
From the Ring Pop on the third finger.

© Azure Jo Storm

You’ll see me soon,

Azure

P.S My website

Tattooed: a poem

Azure Jo Storm — Sat, 09 May 2026 14:09:52 GMT

Under my painted blue with clouds umbrella
As the rain holds my hand during the storm
I gape up at the lighting tattooed sky
Yearning to fling the umbrella away and
Scream, just scream,
Into the night - not a damn given
Under the street lit lights

Water relieving me of complicated thoughts
Seeping into my veins like the flashes belting above
A lifeline of nature
A lifeline for me

I desire a new ‘first’ tattoo
Letting a new meaning carve into my skin
Blood and ink mixing into ichor
To craft a statement
My mouth can’t translate

Lighting was there at my birth
Lighting should walk with me each day
Lighting should be left on my vessel after I
Return to the skies

Under my painted blue with clouds umbrella
Gazing longingly at a domain I cannot go to yet
As lighting bolts shoots a contemporary photo, the storm clouds its backdrop
I foresee what my new ‘first’ tattoo
Is going to be

© Azure Jo Storm

You’ll see me soon,

Azure

P.S My website

Starlight Forevermore: a poem

Azure Jo Storm — Sat, 25 Apr 2026 14:01:34 GMT

Forgive me Sun for the Moon beckons me
With its starlight fond of my vessel.
It was said
“The marks on her skin are the galaxy.”
Always adorned by the stars, their epiphany.
I was chosen to be theirs, their second star to the right,
Straight on till -.
Morning comes and my vessel is released from starlight
Getting nutrients the sunlight provides needed for my vessel.
You are appreciated, sunlight, you truly are.
Though I know the moment Sun descends once again
My vessel awakes to the call of forever.

© Azure Jo Storm

You’ll see me soon,

Azure

P.S my website

The Begotten: a poem

Azure Jo Storm — Sat, 11 Apr 2026 14:00:21 GMT

The Catalysts begot my poems
Yet I was the surrogate
Carrying them for moons and moons
Until they descended downward through me
Yearning to be seen
By the Catalysts who called them degenerates
As I howled out their names
By the stars
Claiming them as mine

© Azure Jo Storm

You’ll see me soon,

Azure

The Caretaker's Lamps: a written in verse poem

Azure Jo Storm — Sat, 28 Mar 2026 14:03:10 GMT

A translucent figure -
Cold hands,
Cold feet,
Cold body,
Limps on the bridge, step by step,
Clasping their hands together, like a beggar
As sparks sear blisters into their palms.
It’s before dawn, air dry and numb.
The sky grey and mute with a tint of saffron bleeding into its hue.
The bridge is not for eyes not of this world,
Surpassing the length of the Nile
Going from East to West with endless asphalt going down the line.
The smoke rising up covers the bridge like a veil on a bride,
Below there is soot of old,
Never kindled long enough to
Warm a thought.
The figure staggers close to the railing, never looking over its edge
And stops at a lamp with a chimney sitting idly.
The tick-tocktick-toktick-toktick-tocktick-tocktick-toktick-tock
Never ceases in their ears,
They cannot even give out a groan to acknowledge their pain
As their tongue was cut out.
Their only acknowledgement is as the caretaker to the lamps,
With no start, no end, continuously in time.
To light the lantern they fill the lamp with
Ichor as oil -
Place the wick made of curiosity to soak -
Bring up their seared hands giving a light touch to
Ignite.
The flame grows illuminating into a simple white glow;
The figure can only watch for a second,
Seeing flashes of thoughts, feelings, determination grow
Into an idea about to be sowed.
To the next one -
The next -
Next -
The figure goes carrying on limping down the bridge,
Kindling each lamp
Seeing a blaze of yellow, orange, red, and blue
Paying no mind to the soot’s guffaws and caterwauls,
Only hearing the crackling of new ideas beaming bright.
Though the soot calls up to the caretaker
There is nothing they can do
Now that the soot are underneath the bridge.
Its flames flickered out long ago.
It happens, happens more than one would think.
Some burn fast and stay -
Some burn fast and vanish.
Some burn slow and spasm out -
Some burn slow and steady.
That is the fate of some flames, unable to thrive
Once ignited.
The caretaker glances in pity, still limping to the next lamp,
To make another beacon for a soul moving forward,
As the soot sends the smoke up surrounding the bridge to try to see
What they would never, ever
Be.

© Azure Jo Storm

You’ll see me soon,

Azure

P.S my website

Hanahaki - She: a written in verse poem

Azure Jo Storm — Sat, 07 Mar 2026 15:03:34 GMT

Hanahaki disease is a fictional illness born out of Japanese Shōjo manga. It describes a condition where someone suffering from unrequited love coughs up or vomits flower petals or even entire flowers.

Free use images edited on Canva

She gaped at me.
I saw my words settle in the moist air on that gray sky afternoon,
The whistling whipping wind paying no mind to all that I have bottled up.
She wiped those sickly pink eyes She has and I sighed.
“Stop crying,” I said firmly, and She’s hanging onto every
Vowel and consonant I speak,
“The disease is set in stone. You couldn’t cure me anyway.”
The thing is, She’s really not at fault for this.
She’s someone I’ve known since elementary school and paid no attention to.
Then I did.
One random day,
It hit me, just recently, with no rhyme or reason.
And my heart pulsed more and more driving me into resentment.
I notice everything about the way She exists now -
The brown hair into ringlets like a spiral staircase She wears,
Light, light tawny brown skin, freckled by Jackson Pollock himself,
Hazel eyes, She had. Very few girls I’ve met had
Hazel eyes like She. The complete opposite of me
In every way.
I didn’t expect this nor was I sure I even wanted this but I was stuck with this.
Not just the feelings sinking into my bone marrow, the
Cough
Blood
Lilies
Coming from my stomach in ravenous starvation.
The disease was brand new, diagnosed days ago.
This inability to feel oxygen in my lungs, the quench for thirst that only burns,
Losing taste to every delicacy because it doesn’t match up to the one in front of me,
The petals forcing me to chew on their silk, suck on the pollen, feeling the stems in my gums.
It’s too much.
So She gets to be stuck with the aftermath. I don’t ache about that (I tell myself that).
So yes I went to the house She sleeps in every night to reveal a nightmare.
She’s at the door on the other side the same time I knock with my knuckles.
Hearing the screen door go fwack fwack fwack until the door swings open.
She thought I was only coming to pass on notes from todays class She missed.
That’s not the only thing I came to pass on though.
The moment She sees me all surprised at the banging, I release what’s inside of me.
Lilies fly out of my mouth, white tips coursed with blood of my lifeline
Pouring onto the flowerbed when I turn to puke up what’s inside me.
She’s frozen, lips trembling in anxiety.
And all I feel is spite.
She saw how I stumbled words in our conversations out of nowhere,
Noticed my inner glee sitting next to her in class for the whole year,
How my looks were filled with more longing than simple acknowledgement -
The signs were there. Now it’s too late.
I wiped my mouth. Then I said what I said.
Then another lily clawed its way up my throat yet again with a wet gurgle and
Popped out of my mouth, leaving shreds of soft tissue from my cheek in my mouth.
It floated between us slowly descending to the ground in front of those feet
That will never walk intently towards me.
She slowly reached down and scooped up the tinted lily
Mindful as a gardener is to their soil,
Holding it in an open palm.
My bitterness washed away at that scene, I was weakened at that moment.
I blink away my own tears and hand over the notebook and quickly said
Goodbye,
Leaving that flower in that palm,
Hoping, once the disease finishes me off,
She would remember me.

You’ll see me soon,

Azure

HAINT: a poem

Azure Jo Storm — Sat, 14 Feb 2026 15:02:54 GMT

This poem is to be read along with the tune of ‘London Bridge’

Free use images edited on Canva

Did you see the beast around?
Float around, dance around?
Did you see the beast around?
It sees you.

At the burial the psyche couldn’t rest
Lingering on words, it became obsessed
At the burial the psyche couldn’t rest
It will collect your debts.

The lonely wraith wails at sunset
Don’t close your eyes, there’s no reset
The lonely wraith wails at sunset
It smells your sweat.

The haunting hour begins at night
Get inside before the fright
The haunting hour begins at night
It follows you.

Inside paint everything blue
Don’t wait too soon, paint it
Haint blue
Inside paint everything blue
Or the unnatural will ensue.

The giggling shade enters in
Hold onto faith, it will give a chase
The giggling shade enters in
How fast are you?

The fervent spirit jacks your shadow
Sucks it dry and gave a swallow
The fervent spirit jacks your shadow
How hollow are you?

The quiet haint back at its grave
Feeling depraved, now a slave
A soul is gone and a monster won
Because of what you’ve said and done

Remember the haint sittin’ at its grave
It would behoove you to always behave.
Remember the haint sittin’ at its grave
It will remember you.

1st - 3rd Stanzas

Let’s get into my favorite part about this poem - the tune to read it to, ‘London Bridge’. Since I am a library youth associate I have done a lot of story times. A lot. Which means every nursery rhyme known on the North American continent is in my head with all sorts of variations and different lyrics. As I sat down to write a poem I already had the idea that I wanted to do a nursery rhyme type poem. ‘London Bridge’ was the latest tune ringing in my ear so I chose that one. It’s the easiest to remember and with the amount of syllables in the entire song, 30 syllables, you can play around with more words. A perfect choice. It’s the way nursery rhymes sound; cutesy, innocent but also incredibly eerie. I’m sure my U.S readers are very familiar with the backstory behind the majority of our nursery rhymes - ‘Ring around the rosie’ anyone? We sing it merrily when we are children but when we grow up and actually read the words…the vibes are completely off. But the tune is so catchy we continue to sing it anyway. And that’s what I wanted for this poem ‘Haint’; I’m merrily singing it while watching the eeriness consume everyone in my wake.

Quick definition of what a haint is (~~if yall saw Sinners recently haint may sound real familiar~~): “...haint is an alternative spelling of haunt, which was historically used in African-American vernacular to refer to a ghost or, in the Hoodoo belief, a witch-like creature seeking to chase victims to their death by exhaustion” (Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haint_blue). So in each stanza I refer to the haint as various synonyms.

First up being ‘beast’; as the tune has a carefree tune I wanted to show the beast being carefree as it is hunting someone - you. Meanwhile you haven’t even noticed it. Dancing around without a care in the world eyeing you before the kill. But doing it slowly. Just like an intelligent predator hiding in camouflage blending into surroundings that you assumed would be safe.

Second up being ‘psyche’; the mind of the person right after it died holding onto all the memories of what you did. The person’s body was laid to rest but the mind and the memories live on through energy. And this mind’s energy is being rebirthed into insanity. Reliving the memories of the slights you did against them over and over and over and over. An endless cycle with no reprieve turning into an obsession where you now demand acknowledgement of the wrongs done against them. And the amount done to them is so much, you are already in debt. Call bankruptcy because there’s no way you can pay this off.

Third up being ‘wraith’; OKAY so this term I’ve had in my head since my ‘Reaper juvenile book series I planned on writing and tried writing however it never got finished’ days. In that series, the villain’s henchmen the protagonists would fight against were called wraiths. I imagined them as revolted ex-reapers who lost all memory of what they are and became black glowy skeletons phantoms who do one thing and one thing only, wail. So I just knew I had to include this word as a synonym for haints. I love visualizing the scene of the wraith just wailing and no matter what you do, closing your eyes - covering your ears, you can still feel that wail inside of you.

4th - 6th Stanzas

The chase has begun. As the sun descends and the moon rises the haint grows stronger. ‘Creepy things go bump in the night’ is an understatement for what is about to happen. It’s seen you, has your scent, and now, is moving directly to where you will be.

‘Haint blue’ is the first time haint is used in the poem and is incredibly important. Haint blue is the color African American freedom seekers (the enslaved) people and their descendants in the South would paint their homes in to ward haints away from their homes. So the poem warns you to not to wait too soon before wading off the haint or, as it says, the truly unnatural will ensue.

Sixth up is ‘shade’; there are times when you are so wronged and baffled by the actions of others that instead of showing pure rage one laughs. That laughter is honestly more scary than fury. Laughter can be used in any genre and depending on the genre it invokes a different reaction each time. One hears a joyful kid laugh in a coming of age story - everything is fine. One hears the same kid laugh in a horror story - everything is about to go wrong. And yes here is where everything is going absolutely wrong for you. Those giggles are the last thing you will ever hear.

7th - 9th Stanzas

Seventh up is ‘spirit’ the most universally known word aside from ghost. This stanza actually is my favorite out of all of them. ‘Jacks your shadow, sucks it dry and gave a swallow’ is your final end. (And yes now looking back I used past tense with present tense (‘gave instead of give’) words which is grammatically incorrect but you know what I DON’T CARE 😭 - ever since I learned English grammar me and the tenses have been fighting. Because why can’t we use past and present and future tense all together? Why can’t we just live our lives freely-?”). I just love how it sounds in my mouth when I say it. Devoured by a spirit you couldn’t escape or stop as it hunted you down in your own home enjoying you as a toddler enjoys an ice cream cone.

Eighth up is ‘haint’ as it is being directly referred to but it’s quiet. Quiet as it leaves the house where you once stood going back to the place which is not its true home feeling just as hollow. I used the word ‘slave’ as a nod to the original ones who believed in haints back in the day but to also reveal what a haint is, in my mind at least, a slave to vengeance. When one gives themselves up to vengeance and uses power to enact that violence it doesn’t resolve anything. Feels so good in the beginning…but has the same affect as adrenaline - weary but unlike a healthy body it never gets replenished the way a body does after the adrenaline high. All the haint can do is go back to where its body has gone back to dust. Sitting alone, forever, at its grave now the monster that parents tell stories about to their children. And who created the monster? Well you, Frankenstein; you who didn’t care for your neighbor and inflicted upon them pain without regret.

The lesson here is the golden rule ‘treat people the way you want to be treated’. Do not be reckless with your words or actions, be intentional with how you interact with people. Do not take hurting people lightly in this world as some pain becomes spiritual and can affect you, the perpetrator, even after that person is now dead. Because pain doesn’t just affect the perpetrator and the victim, it affects everyone connected to the victim - everyone connected to the perpetrator. So remember these lessons cause the haint will always remember the consequences.

You’ll see me soon,

Azure

bloodhound: a poem

Azure Jo Storm — Sat, 10 Jan 2026 18:03:16 GMT

Free use images edited on Canva

let me sniff it out
is it the

bad breath after I wake up from the land of sonder; dehydration

tea i steep in the early morning; of malt, honey, soil, musk
broth i drink for a meal; salty sugary refined

snow of the new year casting a spell onto the patch of briar roses; herbal
smoke fire from a night of vague confessions; savory

skin to skin on a new mother; apple cider vinegar
cologne on a new father; milk in the bones

let me identify what makes my soul
a soul

You’ll see me soon,

Azure

Somewhere between an invitation and a warning: a poem

Azure Jo Storm — Sat, 03 Jan 2026 18:03:14 GMT

All free use images edited on Canva

Today I bring tidings of great
Peril,
Relief,
With words I pour into sentences flowing unlimited on endless journeys
Like a lake feeding into rivers stretching across lands
North, South, East, West,
All by my own hands.

I was erased
By my own self.
My anger muted me, spit ricocheted out my mouth.
Spurned.
My sadness blinded me, my torso flailing on the ground.
Pitied.
My fear deafened me, my head spinning from all the ringing.
Blamed.
When my innocence was stripped away from my soul
I burned a fire for nineteen years.
I foolishly waited for someone to put out the peril that raged around me,
Covered by smoke, stagnant in its fumes.
Until I heard a thundercloud belt out a note of jubilation
Releasing healing from its sky, pattering onto my skin with an exhale
Dissipating the smoke, the rage and
Allowing me to inhale after such a long time.

A mist envelopes me into a hug,
I sway and twirl with the droplets in kind.
Through its veil
I see open relief welcome me yonder,
It’s waves wetting my feet as I stand before it.
Tears walking on my waterline fall onto my cheeks,
I cradle my anger, my sadness, my fear and submerge myself beneath the ripples.
Released.
I rise from the water with speech, sight, and sound.

I herald a storm -
The clouds will be my palette for
The rain to bleed color of infinite shades -
The lighting will flash every feeling born of me -
The thunder will mercifully release my inner cries -
The wind will spread my words unyieldingly.
And I will stand in the eye of the storm seeing the tidings
Of great joy.

Here is your invitation to my warning.

You’ll see me soon,

Azure