ontologically silly

she cognitos on my ergo til i sum

[esoteric-dyke]

I Still Have Your Old Red Keep Cup In My Room

"I’ll write something new today partly

because I want to but mostly because

the morning is nice and I suppose that’s what

I do on a sunny day, so of course I go for

a walk and find our spot on Murchison square

where I met you once to give you a coffee

before we fell in love – measuring

out the bits of myself I

give to you in poorly rolled cigarettes and 

the sky is exactly the colour of a negroni which you hate 

and it hits your face and your copy

of “The Arcana Of Reproduction” and I

didn’t know anyone could be so wonderful when

I call them a wanker

Maybe this one I show you, maybe you take

a look at the naivety of the prose and say

I’m ripping off Frank O’Hara again

maybe that’s true but you still let it slide

because you love me and you know there

is so much left to do and

you still haven’t finished The Inseparables

yet, you need to tell your sister you love her

I'll see a man and his kid, while i’m walking

back past the terraces, grandkid maybe, 

six years old or thereabouts, the two of them smiling like anything,

just transfixed as the garbos drive past

Sometimes I think its still that evening in the depth of June

you’re still telling me you aren't afraid of dying."

[havingapoemwithyou]

forfeiting my mystic by Kaveh Akbar

[esoteric-dyke]

-Judges 16

[radical-revolution]

You shouldn't be dismayed if a sadness rises up in front of you, greater than any you have ever seen before; or if a disquiet plays over your hands and over all your doings like light and cloud-shadow. You must think that something is happening with you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand; it will not let you fall. Why should you want to exclude from your life all unsettling, all pain, all depression of spirit, when you don't know what work it is these states are performing within you? Why do you want to persecute yourself with the question of where it all comes from and where it is leading? You well know you are in a period of transition and want nothing more than to be transformed. If there is something ailing in the way you go about things, then remember that sickness is the means by which an organism rids itself of something foreign to it. All one has to do is help it to be ill, to have its whole illness and let it break out, for that is how it mends itself...

Do not watch yourself too closely. Do not draw over-rapid conclusions from what is happening to you. Simply let it happen.

RAINER MARIA RILKE, LETTERS TO A YOUNG POET

[transtwelvetruther]

Heaven Sent <33

[mihai-florescu]

The lion does not concern itself with the bank account balance when a little treat is calling

[mihai-florescu]

The lion will never financially recover from this

[omtai]

they should invent a cigarette that gives you vitamins and hrt and shit

[infectiouspiss]

TESTOSTEROEN CIGARETTE BEING SMOKED BY A BUTCH DYKE OUTSIDE THE BAR SHE SHOTGUN THR SMOKE INTO MYMOUTH I GET SO HARD I PASS OUT SMASH MY HEAD AND DIE

[infectiouspiss]

sorry that was meant for the tags

[omtai]

it’s okay. You’ve painted a beautiful and true picture

[esoteric-dyke]

-Letters to a Younger Poet

[softeeeeeee]

I salute the flag.

[esoteric-dyke]

And its like one day you’re 18 in a hospital bed / with a nurse who only knows/ how to call it your Wound— aching/ scribbling want into the call button — and the hundred running horses/ of sun come to a stop just hairs from your cheek/ You can't feel it/ One day your life stops just short of you/ gives you a smile, a wave, it keeps walking past/ One day you're stretching your fingers wide just to know the pull of your skin.

[esoteric-dyke]

A Transvestite For All Seasons

Early winter morning, glass frosted in the dark

 we will talk till im all out of lies to tell.

Start speaking of home of dads pasta, the dogs that bark

like cats that just learned how.

and if i told you about the waves — 

me skinnydipping in the gully, the smell of a book     

that never gets opened. If I told you about the waves,

really told you– just the look of them –  i wonder.

You'd turn and look,

every page is another drop of sewerage onto virgin sand, 

look now at a forgiven sky. 

The stars aren't waves at all,  you'd say           

       

just a page sliced over

bare fingertips.

Cup the shape of me between yours, my Thomas More

All there is is this;

our bodies pressed like cracks in pavement.

[3liza]

[3liza]

[esoteric-dyke]

Ode to Judas Iscariot

[esoteric-dyke]

Ode To Judas Iscariot

A voice said find Him, God,

maybe, probably. 

probably it was God and probably He was you. 

Still I knew what it meant, I 

saw you like I was just learning sight again. Your

lips were a language I didn’t understand. Us falling,

stumbling back from dinner. Us in the garden.

Us under shades of fig trees, Us in the 

temple at the ends of the Earth. 

Head back for me, Love. You said, I

was on my knees again. You put your bread to

my lips and I took it. Took it like

a man past starving, past survival. It was

your blood in my mouth,

mine in yours. Tell me I'm the one

who has you like this. You said

three things unsatisfied. Four things,

you couldn’t name, it is enough.

Sunk with the weight of stigmata, your 

hands now pulling at my chin. But this

is all – this is all; your flesh 

goes down easy, you are my kingdom. 

My carnality, my blood and my pain. I see you

spit the remnants.

Yours is only the world.

[butchlovr]

A Poem That's Been Said Before

[butchlovr]

The Upfield Line, 2023

[butchlovr]

Eulogy For a Boy I Loved