February 2012
57 posts
8 tags
Digging
mobbleberry:
I find myself tunnelling back on myself. Funnelling compressed feelings in cramped spaces. Delving into the past, and scratching to the depths. Throwing over my shoulder the dirt of today. When I find you… I shall have a filthy face, shredded flesh for fingers. But you will know: I drilled to the other side of the earth to find you. (And I would do it again, to feel your fresh cut...
Anonymous asked: its not 12 yet but id like 2 wish u a happy birthday!
3 tags
“I look at the sea with envy
And say to myself:
“How small you...”
– Mina Asadi - A Ring To Me Is A Bondage
“Just because we don’t say certain things, doesn’t mean we don’t feel them. Maybe...”
– (via wordsthat-speak)
7 tags
Sexism
lunghi28:
Girl was not a she nor was Girl an it.
Girl was not a her, or a that.
Yet, she, and her were encoded upon my tongue, slipping off easily like ooze.
Did Girl become it, and that, with my innocent ignorant words?
Language - like snaked ribbons - restrains me to these poisoned inclinations.
3 tags
drachmoore:
I about just lost all my marbles simply from laughing inside my own head.
The phrase is so perfect. Chasing the dragon. It has a specific history but it is often used to refer to, essentially, a drug junkie who is pursuing that one epic, indescribable, mind-fucking high, but never quite reaches it due to their built-up tolerance of their drug of choice. I think anyone who has...
4 tags
“Writing rhymes about wind chimes and world peace while in my sleep I’m fighting...”
– Andrea Gibson (via thelongestsummer)
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lyricrhetoric replied to your photo: Letters I sent yesterday. I wonder if the birds…
I love those envelopes
Me too! They make you feel like you’re sending letters in WW2!
letterstoogod replied to your photo: Letters I sent yesterday. I wonder if the birds…
whod u send them to?!
Random strangers and some people I needed to write to.
coffee
lilysofthefield:
The smell of hazelnut coffee grounds and the sound of the coffee pot brewing and watching the dark liquid turn beige with added cream and sugar and the warmth that touches my hands from the ceramic mug then placing the brim to my lips as the coffee rushes to the tip of my tongue and for that moment, that’s all that matters.
“The relationship of a girl and her favorite novel can be complex indeed.”
– Andrea Cremer (via amandaonwriting)
1 tag
Downstream.
andyouwhisperedhurry:
Last night I dreamt about peeling me away from myself in layers that felt too thin. Every time I was a block of new skin, I felt dirty again and I had to start the next ritual, picking and pulling white flakes away from my nose and chest and ribs. I don’t think I stopped until I was poreless and shiny and red and new, like a clean slate, all my contaminated flaws on the...
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It's Been Raining Since I Woke Up
savageleewriting:
We waited for the rain to stop falling.
We clung to each other in the alcove an emptied out old convenience store; one of those former 24-hour places that’d been owned and operated by some English-As-A-Second-Language immigrants who’d given their businesses such unlikely monikers as “Dave Hair Salon” and the “All Day Store Mart”.
I put my hands low on her back, searching out...
2 tags
Dear Chris,
In the poetry that I believe in more than reality itself, it says that love is magical and near to holy. Now if love the noun is holy, what about the human you love..? Is his/her love the closest thing we’ll ever touch from God?
And if so, does it mean it has to be all fair, does the lover have to accept me as who I’m and nothing more… if that’s a yes, then I’ll never be loved nor a...
Tumblr user mentality:
recent-studies:
openlyawesome:
I’m fine with being alone as long as I get to whine about it on every social networking service
Sometimes I can’t help but feel that we’re all cheating being loners with things like Tumblr and Twitter. That said, what’s out there often fails to live up to the fleeting moments that exist only behind a screen of some sort.
#UberGuilty
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The Retired Romantic
ghostsandonionskins:
You danced like Rome was burning and I panicked, scared to see someone not afraid of fate or fire and moving just as free lapping loose against the grandeur burning through the fools like me you laughed and went to take my hand in ashen Italy
We drank the wine too quickly eager to relieve the pain in our legs from all the winding roads that cradled with disdain ...
The Man Kissed The Letter By Erik Campbell
The man kissed the letter slowly Before dropping it in the mailbox.
It felt awkward dropping My gas bill in after this.
Even my packet of poems Couldn’t help, whittled down To imprecise love letters, Photocopied for any and all comers.
And I felt suddenly as shameless As a man in a bar teaching A pretty woman to shoot pool.
This is nothing new to you.
You’ve seen the man Kissing the...
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Dear Chris,
Its 3.26 am now, I’m lost.
Covering myself with a blanket from my own fears, from my own footsteps echoes, from my own heartbeat’s pain.. Did raw meat taste bad?
I’m stuck into this material, money obsessed world that we both hate… wish you were around, we’d drop our laptops from a rooftop together and ride bikes till we reach to a cherry bush.. and we’d pour rotten cherry into cups of...
2 tags
Only Equals
poemsfallfrommycursedlips:
Freedom of individuality you say? the self dies keep creating classes you won’t find freedom but the sanguine fear of revolt by those oppressed with inequality a short step then to Spartan life armed men enforcing order living in continual fear that the exploited will rise up
What’s happened to liberty then? Slavery forces submission on master and slave, only...
“You understood that death doesn’t hurt the dead, it only hurts the living.
...”
– Mahmoud Darwish (via delucazade)
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A Standard Love Poem For The Not So Standard Human
10000sidewalks:
I’ll love you now, and later too
Bit by bit beneath lavender
Scented sheets and breath
I cannot contain my hope
That forever I will be able
To hold you near my ribs
Which house the heart
That beats for you
For lack of anything else
To love
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““إنّني أشهد في نفسي صراعا وعراكا
وأرى ذاتي شيطانا وأحيانا ملاكا
هل أنا شخصان...”
– إيليا أبو ماضي / Ellia Abu Madhi
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“Something deeply felt, was to create a gulf between ourselves and others, who,...”
– Virginia Woolf, The Voyage Out. (via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)
“I am afraid of getting older … I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from...”
– Sylvia Plath, written in 1949 at age 17 (via cottonbutts)
3 tags
Words about Ay
wearemostaliveindreams:
“You know what the weirdest part of life is?” She is chewing on the cap of a pen. “What?” “Anniversaries.” My coffee is getting cold but the microwave is broken. “Why?”
“Like,” She stops to think. The cap of her pen finds the table. Fingers find a napkin. Always fidgeting with something. “Anniversaries of someone’s death, or anniversaries of...
9 tags
Animal
writingreaa:
reminiscing and testing my past and my present. creating and destroying the things sent from heaven. but words can be abstract, but these walls cannot but dreams can be visions, but reality falls short. and by nature we’re animals, so we’re animals by default it’s no wonder that civilization is the realm on which we got caught. because we’ll keep searching and killing ourselves for...
Drops of Crystal
mobbleberry:
A little drop formed on the skirting boards of her eyes. Hung suspended on a bungee-jump lash… A precipice A great, big, gap of
a
i
r
between her chin
a n d
h e r
feet. Yet, gravity was kind to her, and the tear never threatened to fall… It just dangled for a moment, and looked like a shard of crystal. Then dried up completely.
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“I’ve been weak and leaking so much poison
in all the rivers around me the fish...”
– Andrea Gibson (via rarararambles)
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I picked a Carnation from your cheeks To feed it for the lonely dawn It was instilling itself on the horizon Like a young man that left from viciousness of war Now he’s back as a stranger Palestine sings for us Every night, a new tone She kisses your head so you wouldn’t feel His absence when you sleep on a pillow of tears And turn to the emptiness on right And here you are writing your poetry On...
hnamed:
Look for god in corners When a bird lifts its wing When you open a new book he lays where you never bother to look he smiles at the corner of your knees bend and looks from the skies when your lips smile in gratefulness I was once warned to not question his existence Found myself lost between Buddha’s gold And Jesus wounds Questioning his figure Surprisingly, he never showed himself...
5 tags
“And if you ever really do wanna understand why we seem so angry,
Well, for one,...”
– Buddy Wakefield (via thisislaurabrown)
Sunday morning, 5 A.M.
ghostsandonionskins:
Sweetest muse your machine steam reminds me monthly what it means to fall apart but now in show I thought my heart felt how to know the way to fall apart herein you are my ruin- musing sin And here against our lives now old the texts are sloppy the feeling cold I wish I knew what words might mean to dying muse- to wonders seen Your figure, murder Your...
Anonymous asked: What is one goal you would like to achieve?
7 tags
Environ
shesanargonaut:
My history books have been telling me that I am supposed to dream of white picket fences, crisp apple pies, and waving flags. They tell me that when I grow up I’m going to wear red lipstick, marry a man who wears a suit and makes enough for us to retire, my feet strapped to a pair of heels in the kitchen until I die. I’ll wear an apron and hand me down pearls, make dinner by six...
Anonymous asked: Where are you from?
Anonymous asked: Are you a feminist? And how long have you been writing? And what kinds of stuff do you write?
aristotlelovewords asked: what kind of music do you like, who is your favorite author. have you ever talked to a guy in chainmail?