[outofuse111]

[podencos]

[lavncelot1-deactivated20170507]

dictionary poem iii by mica k

gildedmouths thanks for the word choice! :)

[openlylesbian-deactivated201709]

–but no no no I DON’T WANT TO BE LOVED, I DON’T WANT TO BE FORGIVEN, LET ME REDEFINE GOD INTO SOMETHING I CAN BECOME

from TELL ME WHAT COLOR THE SUN REALLY IS // h. yenna kim (via openlylesbian)

[risingphoenixpress-deactivated2]

I will not let this river break me just so God can have something to heal.

Allie Long, Self-Injury, published in Rising Phoenix Review (via risingphoenixpress)

[lifeinpoetry]

Does God hang out in Greyhound bus stations? I’d like to find him. I’d like to make him cry.

Sara Sutterlin, from I Wanted to Be the Knife [Extended Edition] (via lifeinpoetry)

[boykeats]

texts between angels trying to live as mortals by keaton st. james

[boykeats]

hotel room musings on the Lord

[boykeats]

prompt: teeth. -j

before the first day god / made angels with gold / arrowheads for teeth & when they sang / to him winds ripened & darkness / heaved & when they sang / of him chaos broke into shards & time / calcified & the pieces of formlessness / soon to become river water / howled with hunger

[boykeats]

dictionary poem xix by keaton st. james

secretsynapse thanks for the word choice!

[iliacl]

1. the psalms are long and our voices soft, yet when i crack the windows open at the long dark sky all i can hear is the world, and it is singing. it is praying. the LORD is listening and we are singing unto HIM and isn’t creation beautiful? 2. i am so very tired of Romans. 3. you’re right. it is lovely. the night is stars are pure and the air is clean and i found GABRIEL in my back garden weeding the gold from the silver and he sang ISAIAH to me until my soul returned. i invited him in for a drink but he could not stay. we cried together. i don’t know why. he was so quiet when he LEFT. 4. are you HERE yet? 5. GABRIEL returned today and he was FUCKING coked out. his eyes were eyes and his mouth was a mouth and he opened up his yawning ribs for me and cried “COME. COME ALL YOU WHO ARE THIRSTY. COME TO THE WATERS.” 6. i want to rewrite the world, MICHAEL. i want to cross out HIS name in the books, i want to tamp down the salt and the ash, i want to start fires until all swords are truly flaming and no eyes are truly burnt. we were promised milk and honey, but the lands are flowing with RED and FORGETTING and my mouth is dry of love. 7. we are never alone when we walk with GOD. 8. then why make us lonely?

– [ texts between the modern prophets ] a.g. (via iliacl)

[yesterdaysprint]

St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Missouri, May 17, 1910

[saintjoan]

Poetry recs? Like your absolute absolute favourites

Okay these are the ones that made me die a little

“all people are driven to the point of eating their gods” 

“if I love you / is that a fact or a weapon?”

“the kingdom of god is within you because you ate it”

“the blood in your mouth – I wish it was mine”

“his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars”

“I am singing now while rome burns”

“that corpse you planted last year in your garden,  has it begun to sprout? will it bloom this year?”

“so the gods sank to human shape with longing”

“those imperial, disimpassion’d eyes”

“this beautiful speed will be the end of us.  those are stars in our teeth.”

“if love wants you, if you’ve been melted into stars”

“out of the ash I rise with my red hair / and I eat men like air”

“your body hurts me as the world hurts god”

“lessons on loving a prophet”

“and I, infinitesimal being, drunk with the great starry void”

“tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine”

“to love a prophet is to become their desert”

“the void rushing up to greet us in the absence of god”

[wildfairy]

I don’t know when I unearthed this anger in me. But now I’m not just writing about breaking glass, I’m actually slamming doors. I’m playing with knives for a pastime. Learning that being brave & having no fear are nowhere close to the same thing. One means I’m living in spite of being scared; the other means I’m looking death in the face & laughing, wildly. I’m threatening to ski down active volcanoes & this is only partly a metaphor. That place fear used to live inside of me has broken windows in its house, sleeps without locking the door. I’m restless & I’ve   lost the feeling in my hands. All that fire I played with made my fingerprints unreadable. The love poems aren’t rolling off the tip of my tongue any- more, they’re burning at the bottom of the trash can, they’re sinking at the bottom of the sea. They are written in a dead language. My mouth doesn’t know how to curl around all that softness now. I’m not drowning, I’m not drowning, I’m not drowning. This anger is blinding. This isn’t what I meant when I said I missed looking like light.

Burning, Angelea Lowes

(CreateSpace // Amazon // Payhip)

[deaddoggod-deactivated20171101]

modern prophets

kids with messy hair and dark circles under their eyes w/ knowledge to bring nations to their knees and migraines from late nights trying to make out cryptic messages and omens knowing you’re meant for something bigger and better you’re more than mortal you are holy. you are loved by something more than human and that’s forever.

[myheartgoesbumbumbum]

My mother taught me this trick: if you repeat something over and over again it loses its meaning, for example homework homework homework homework homework homework homework homework homework, see? Nothing. Our existence she said is the same way. You watch the sunset too often it just becomes 6 pm you make the same mistake over and over you stop calling it a mistake. If you just wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up one day you’ll forget why.

Repetition by Phil Kaye (via nicosadako)

[archbudzar]

What is it that our chests hold? If I am going to disappear // I am going to do it the right way like a forest fire. (I don’t regret it) (C.B) (7.26.17)