This little piggy stayed home @bulmer - Tumblr Blog

aquamon

bulmer

True Blue

Blue sky opened up to me, …I waited there so patiently, ‘til a strong Voice spoke aloud– but was covered by a cloud.

bulmer

“Misconceptions” by Robert Browning

This is a spray the Bird clung to, Making it blossom with pleasure, Ere the high tree-top she sprung to, Fit for her nest and her treasure. Oh, what a hope beyond measure Was the poor spray's, which the flying feet hung to, - So to be singled out, built in, and sung to!

This is a heart the Queen leant on, Thrilled in a minute erratic, Ere the true bosom she bent on, Meet for love's regal dalmatic. Oh, what a fancy ecstatic Was the poor heart's, ere the wanderer went on - Love to be saved for it, proffered to, spent on.

#poetry

dailybeatles

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Happiness Is A Warm Gun - The Beatles

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The Cranberries - “Salvation”

“To all those people doing lines: don’t do it, don’t do it. Inject your soul with liberty - it’s free, it’s free. To all the kids with heroin eyes: don’t do it, don’t do it. Because it’s not, not what it seems. No, no. It’s not, not what it seem.”

occultclassicalart

GOYA, Francisco (1746-1828)

Witches’ Sabbath (The Great He-Goat), detail 1821-1823 Oil on canvas, 140.5 x 435.7 cm Prado Museum, Madrid Ed. Orig. (Ed. Lic.: CC0 1.0)

sweetleafradio

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frank zappa “i have been in you”

greenest-tea

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And clenching your fist for the ones like us who are oppressed by the figures of beauty, you fixed yourself, you said, “Well never mind, we are ugly but we have the music."

stoned-alien-deactivated2021020

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Pennyroyal Tea | Nirvana

a call

Down in the clearing, some other source came desperate and intent on a brokered current, a final vision of empty light summoned and sorted into a picture. A frame at the edge of memory, a choked voice calling your name, the syllables stretched beyond recognition, a tattered groan that you fear, and to which you do not respond, an orphan sound divorced of meaning like the gargle of a stream that echoes in a cave, its tired sediment resting in your ears. As you strain to decipher it the moment passes and you continue looking for the overgrown path.

The trail must lead somewhere… There is an argument to be had. We could settle here, choked at the edge of a new memory, an event that will never take place, the untold fantasies of youth dressed in their naive aspiration.

Anger restored from apathy-- a shrill cry which breaks the silence and testifies to this sacred moment. Soon it will exist beyond hearing or even thought.

The day is bright and warm, though I smell a storm.

#poem