flawsstitchedwithgoodintentions:
I.
We are nothing more
than the gravel and rock
raised from the earth,
cold and blue.II.
Blood of my ancients
burned and spilled
to bring forth a spring,
bubbling from the rock.
The blood is in the soil.III.
An empire, sheltered by the shade
of the blue mountains, rose here.
We thrived in this place,
67 Humans are funny
In a certain way
they all seek for love
but instead a war they create.
Pretty red flowers
are supposed to be held in our hands
but instead our hands hold blooded scars
and unhealed wounds.
Smiles and laughs,
happiness in short
is what we are supposed to share
but I find myself
sharing nothing but my pain and hurt
and there are many who relate.
Indeed we are all humans,
and humans are funny.
If she should ever wake with a start
cheeks damp with the residue of some passing nightmare
wherein the years came creeping to twist her lovely visage
or “world peace” was no longer an acceptable answer
to questions of our greatest hopes,
dry her tears with the corner of the Egyptian cotton sheets
75 Dover Beach by Matthew Arnold, read by Tom Hiddleston
The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the A gaean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
(Source: lazyocean)
1233 Poetry today
was the furthest point on the horizon
across a desert expanse
the earthen floor of a crumbling adobe ruin
beneath the grey wall of an impending downpour
Rhythm was in the pulse of the lightning
and rhyme, the spontaneous illuminations
sending vibrations through the hooves of
the…
71 Echo deep the riverbeds of my spine.
Tonight, I carved your name into canyons on my floorboards
with nothing but salt and sweat.
I cell-phoned my walls
and shattered technology across my cheekbones.
You are a time zone in which I will never sleep peacefully
because sneaker clutching sun-fed…
45 fake it for while;
lie through your teeth,
bite your tongue,
(draw blood)
smile;soon it’ll be
just like the truth
when i will write in
my bluebook all the major chords
i’d been saving on(scraps of paper
in the crawlspace of my mind)when i will take out the trash
four times at least(i can’t wait to dump my brain
down down down the drain)when my voice will not sound
small and nervous
with guilt(no guilt the night before
no guilt for the next hour or more)
Crucified
They nailed me down to the cross
which said, I couldn’t cross the line that read-
This is a boy.
They tore me from the tattered pages of a bible
And said my heart had no chance of survival,
As long as I swore I was in love with a life-
That wasn’t a boy.They raked my ribcage with their holy cries,
Thundering verses of John and gone through my bloodstream;
Until I couldn’t tell if the tremble in my voice
Was my own, or the sound of God shaking his head at my crimes.They kite stringed my fingers,
While waving their own in my face
Preaching that they dare not linger
Past the seams of a boy’s cinder.
For my lips to erase.I have heard children spit the word faggot at my soul
Mothers stringing hushed whispers of disgust
As they pull their innocent daughters away from my rainbow burnt coal.I have never known pride before.
But I have watched beauty die on my kitchen floor,
As I ripped a sun glint knife through my pores,
And stitched my eyes shut until I couldn’t feel their words anymore.
My heart beat stained the ground below me,
And I whispered wishes for God to throw me
Over to the other side,
My blood has never felt more like mine
As when it’s flowing on the outside.I too, have watched fairytales of rapunzel and the prince
But my locks were plaited with the possibily of love not having limits,
Of eyes, never looking past beauty to between the legs,
And of ‘I love you’ never having a pronoun slapped at its end.So label me Lesbian, Sinner, Devils Daughter.
Science can excavate my bloodstream searching for explanations
To why my heart beats for the people it does.
But the breath we breathe til you preach us to our death
Will be Hallelujah. The melancholy we will leave you with
Will be the one suffered between Good Friday’s flame and Easter’s fire.
And we will rise from our graves, with the nails still fresh in our palms,
As angel dust floating to the acceptance of open arms,
In the embrace of a heaven that never had gates to begin with.So write me away one more time.
Tatter me through the seams of my spine.
I will unbend and mend this broken pride,
Until I have a smile dancing in my stride.And the next time you draw me lines I cannot step over,
I’ll shake the ignorance from your shoulders,
And point you towards a God that knows-
Love is anywhere and everywhere a heart grows.
Anonymous asked: are you planning to go see 'the beatles: the lost concert' film?
Possibly. It depends on my schedule. May is a very busy month.
