Alyssa Grace Moore

www.alyssagracemoore.com

[alyssagracemoore]

Uninvited, callous, don’t be kind.

Unimportant, tangled, now you’re mine.

Puppetry is finest when its black. Light is best cascaded in the dark.

Don’t be precious— unconverted to my purpose and unchallenged, with a will.

Your words will be unheeded; my words will be unfiltered, my poison undefiled and my justice unrestrained.

You think me uncommitted? You do look unconvinced.

Am I not persuasive? Are you yet unimpressed?

You’ll find me unrelenting and unfriendly, unforeseen,

unheralded by goodness and unrivaled by my pain—:

unorthodox, unflinching, and unaltered by your cries.

Oh are you yet unsettled, as you find me unforgiving, as I deal what’s unsanctioned, as I do so unrestrained?

Well you see I am unmoved, unbaited, and unvexed by this particular predicament you just don’t seem to get.

But you start to understand as you wrestle with your wit, you twist against your ‘straints, and see me in the light:

the dark had just been covered. The Dark was never Light.

__________________________________________________⁣⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣🌹"Uninvited" - A poem by Alyssa Grace Moore⁣⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣⁣ ⚜️Read more at www.alyssagracemoore.com ⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⚜️ ⁣ 🎵Listen to the slowed down version of Billie Eilish's "COPYCAT" from @captaincleanfreak's video "Gravity Falls CMV - COPYCAT - Bipper Cosplay" on their YouTube channel to hear what I was listening to as I wrote this.⁣ ⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣ 📚💻📚Take a class with me! I can help you achieve your goals! http://bit.ly/2YeTJEs

[alyssagracemoore]

The hush of voices over the friendly, constant hiss of falling snow only adds to this city’s charms. Couples link together as the elders and the lonely look briefly on. ⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ Children giggle and laugh, squeal and point to see the swimming duck become a 𝘴𝘬𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 duck, waddle-gliding across the frozen river below. Some cross the bridge, but others 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 on it, scarves waving in the whimsy-wind. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 people lean on the railing and stare at the stars, marveling at the sudden clarity of the universe.⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ I watch them from my balcony, steam cycloning up to me from the ramen shop below. The humid kisses leave me damp, the smell of a cheap, warm meal now clinging to my skin and to my clothes.⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ I let out a breath and watch it drift and threaten to mix with ramen mist—but faithfully it carries itself away, and bares me to the world. ⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ The snow is falling heavier now. ⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ I wonder if the snowflake feels lost among many—or as though it is finally baring itself boldly to the world…?⁣⁣ ___________________________________________⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ ⁣🌹"Humid Kisses in the Snow," a vignette by Alyssa Grace Moore⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ ⚜️Read more at www.alyssagracemoore.com ⚜️⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ 🎵Listen to "Studio Ghibli Cafe Music - Winter Jazz & Bossa Nova Music For Work, Study - Happy New Year!!" from Cafe Music BGM channel on YouTube to hear what I was listening to as I wrote this. ⁣⁣ ⁣⁣ 📚💻📚Take a class with me on TakeLessons.com! I can help you achieve your goals! http://bit.ly/2YeTJEs

[alyssagracemoore]

And here I am. Murdered. Lying in my bed just seconds before I die. Not in cold blood—warm. So warm. My body, cold. ⁣⁣⁣ My four-poster bed now my four-poster prison.⁣⁣⁣ And I die, unknowing. ⁣⁣⁣ Who has done this? ⁣⁣⁣ And why?⁣⁣⁣ My eyes shut, my fingers grip. ⁣⁣⁣ Teeth clench.⁣⁣⁣ Red blood on white sheets. ⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ My voice fails me—fails to call for help.⁣⁣⁣ In a house full of servants, I am alone. ⁣⁣⁣ I am alone. ⁣⁣⁣ I am alo—⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ My eyes refocus. ⁣⁣⁣ And I see him in the corner.⁣⁣⁣ My murderer.⁣⁣⁣ Who weeps—⁣⁣⁣ and all I want to do is console. ⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ “It will be all right. ⁣⁣⁣ I understand.” ⁣⁣⁣ I beckon him closer. “I understand.⁣⁣⁣ Tears befit a righteous man.”⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ He weeps for me, and I for him. ⁣⁣⁣ And I quickly, silently pray he will grow. ⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ He presses his forehead to mine and he weeps. ⁣⁣⁣ A son to his father. ⁣⁣⁣ A son to his king. ⁣⁣⁣ __________________________________________________⁣⁣⁣

⁣🌹"My Murderer" - A poem by Alyssa Grace Moore⁣⁣ ⁣ ⚜️Read more at www.alyssagracemoore.com ⚜️⁣⁣⁣ ⁣ 🎵Listen to "Betrayal Music - Subversion of the Sovereign" by Secession Studios while reading to experience the full mood of this poem ⁣⁣⁣

[snatti]

Morning! Just wanted to paint two of my favorite subject matters, rain and dogs! was really fun!

[alyssagracemoore]

This is beautiful and lovely and evokes such a mood...<3 

[alyssagracemoore]

The poor fashionista can’t afford the clothes,⁣ so instead of baring fabric⁣ bares her soul.⁣ ___________________________________________⁣⁣⁣⁣ "The Fashionista" - A poem by Alyssa Grace Moore⁣ ___________________________________________⁣⁣⁣⁣ Read more at www.alyssagracemoore.com⁣

[alyssagracemoore]

You wear pom-poms in your hair and studs at your side, dancing on those glowing stairs and playing with your wavy hair. Don’t give a damn what they think, only what they feel, so tonight, like every day, in your own gothic, pom-pom way, you overflow your passion cup and spill it on the passersby in hopes to wake them up.

___________________________________________⁣⁣⁣ "Gothic Little Pom-Poms" - A poem by Alyssa Grace Moore ___________________________________________⁣⁣⁣ Read more at www.alyssagracemoore.com

[alraunahomestead]

Sofia Nykvist (@tusenblommor)

[ohjessmarie]

oh to simply sit on a mossy rock for awhile 🌿 { prints & more are on society6 and redbubble }

**please refrain from deleting caption. thank you!**

[ohjessmarie]

woodland wanderings 🌲🦊🍄🍁🔍 { prints & more on society6 and redbubble }

**please refrain from deleting caption. thank you!**

[bakwaaas]

someone said ‘the version of me you created in your mind is not my responsibility’ and wow

[faithwalkjournal]

Everybody knows something's broken in the world. But illogically, foolishly, we are looking for fixes from broken people with broken ideas in broken places.

Matt Chandler

[autumncozy]

By masha_altynbaeva

[espousa]

Sleepless nights become mornings.

[alyssagracemoore]

This is beautiful and profound in its simplicity, as the wisest things often are. <3 

[alyssagracemoore]

⁣I’ll provide your highs ⁣⁣⁣ and provide your lows.⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ I’ll comfort you not by offering your highs—⁣⁣⁣ but the chance of them.⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ See the red of love.⁣⁣⁣ See the absence of red.⁣⁣⁣ So you give it,⁣⁣⁣ hoping to be noticed⁣⁣⁣ in a world that hopes to be noticed by the world,  ⁣⁣⁣ in a bed of seaweed all tangled and intertwined, clamoring for what feels like survival— ⁣⁣⁣ for what is life if you are not noticed? ⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ Come, let me offer you a chance to be noticed, in your far off corner of the world. ⁣⁣⁣ I’ll provide you friends. ⁣⁣⁣ I’ll provide you rivals. ⁣⁣⁣ I’ll provide you idols. ⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ I’ll provide you promises⁣⁣⁣ I’ll provide you love-⁣⁣⁣ and you’ll believe it. ⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ Until you see that “they” have more. ⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ Love is numbers, love is comments. ⁣⁣⁣ No more love for art; art is not love—⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ Numbers are your only proof. ⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ And so you seek them. ⁣⁣⁣ And you seek them. ⁣⁣⁣ And you seek them. ⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ ’Til all passion for your art is dead,⁣⁣⁣ and I have killed you all.⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ __________________________________________⁣⁣⁣ "I Offer you the High and the Crash and the High and the…" - A poem by Alyssa Grace Moore⁣⁣⁣ ⁣⁣⁣ Read more at www.alyssagracemoore.com⁣⁣⁣

[alyssagracemoore]

My mind races for September, my heart yearns itself for fall,

so why doth summer linger on when best, its heated presence, gone?

I want to free myself in freedom as only autumn can provide: outstretch my arms and spin around— feel leaves as they collide with me and send tickling kisses up my nape, because autumn is of magic— and cute, happy, little rakes. <3

So onward, then, from summer, And onward, then, toward fall!

It really is, in all the world, the very best of all. <3

[rachelmellema]

[alyssagracemoore]

Are you a boy or a girl? 

Who knew a simple question could make me so happy. 

Growing up it was always:

“You are a girl.

You must act like a girl.

Here is your hair. 

And here are your clothes.

Here’s how you sit. 

And here’s how you act. 

Why aren’t you acting like a girl? 

Why don’t you want to wear pink?

Careful how you sit—you don’t want boys to—”

But I am a boy and I am a man. 

Those stories about manhood were for me. 

But sometimes I’m soft—just like all the real boys

Sometimes I cry 

And sometimes I sniffle

And sometimes I love 

Without ulterior motive. 

Just like the “real” boys. 

But I am a real boy

and that is no Pinocchio lie.

I’ve known it since first grade

When I tried to tell you in my 6-year-old way. 

But they were just my 6-year-old words

in an adult-run world.

It was a “phase.” 

I was “just” a “tomboy.”

But my name is not “Tom.” 

My name is Alyssa. 

And I am a real girl. 

And I am a real boy. 

I am a woman. 

And I am a man. 

[Read more poetry at www.alyssagracemoore.com]