Loud thoughts and Quiet words @foreverapoemaboutyou-blog - Tumblr Blog

i gave and gave with little return,

but darling,

what more would i not have given

for one more night in your arms.

hidden beauty

I smeared the ruby with lipstick and the obsidian with eye-itching sludge from those countless tubes which cover the counters of every consumer with an XX chromosome.

Nothing more satisfying than covering a translucent thing with opacity.

Clarity is meant to be obscured, is it not?

#beauty #prosetry #writing #spilled ink #sketches

uninspiration

Oh where have you fled to, fledgling images? You were my gift, my lucre and inheritance, I was told. But gold does not spontaneously generate, and crawl off the counting-table. You must be the key to the universe, then, if you originated life of your own....

#prosetry #purple prose #oh joy #what am i even doing

ocean light

isn't like land-light.

my heart is not like other hearts

and perhaps that is

fine;

someday someone will come, in a wind-whipped calm

of white sails

and land on this untouched shore

to leave a solitary footprint, or

perhaps to stay

and drink the salty air forever.

#poetry

amber -/- grey

sunshine spills, you know.

and when it does so

dissolves like acid

the sultry, placid cloud-cover

which lends such leaden boredom

to late autumn days.

(as do you).

#sunshine #poetry #spilled ink

gratuitous selfie

#is this how you get followers

how you get personal with people without like, getting personal

#text

no true scotsman

i don't think

real poetry can be written here.

real poetry is visceral

physically affecting, gut-wrenching.

it is consumption and repulsion (gobbling and vomiting)

pleasure and pain -

these blank white words on digital pages

don't satisfy or inspire craving

like the ones scrawled in blotchy BIC pen scratches

on the doorway of death's notebook paper...

#poetry #spilled ink #idek #writing #irl

have sadness. will give anything to share it with somebody.

a personal ad

#a thing #10 word story

Beauty breaks...

Like the dawn,

Like another rolling wave.

Like a Ming Dynasty

Vase; falling to the floor

A shattering;

An explosion starting on point of contact,

Slow: fractures spreading upwards in river-split islands

Panagea split apart by the fountains of the deep, and sliding.

In real time: a brittle smashing, quick destruction

The flash and white death of the atom bomb.

The sound of it

Like the snap of bones in the chest cavity

As a metaphorical organ breaks

Spilling emotion (blood or serotonin? That is the question)

In pulsing hemorrhages

Through the wasteland of the perceived life

Beauty beats down

And raises hairs

Prickles skin

Tears the fibers of the sun-weakened fabric.

Gentleness comes with dilution

Ions and mineral solutions –

The raw thing, the element?

As dangerous as live wire amid steel.

Waves of destroying disorder

Emanating like heat from the August sidewalk

Of the equinox. What is august though?

But an idea.

August is beautiful, not beauty.

Idea is beauty, and beauty idea...

And now the meaning is obfuscated

With layers of philosophical confusion, self-important pretention, a

Thickening of the words

With corn-starch and glutamate. Better to leave it

Thin as paper yellow leaves in seasons

When every last living thing falls

In piles of cloud stained crimson

By principles of atmosphere and light.

#poetry #beauty #ideas

quadriplegic

you know that stop, when

a sudden freeze , l-o-a-d-i-n-g forever and ever seizes your screen?

yeah, like that, but its in your chest and in your head

the words cease

to make sense, emotions potent like a drop of poison swallowed the oceans

no sense. pay rent

to the ice monster in your own bed - oh wait. that's great, its really you

no longer recognizable, fractured, spineless oh well, truth

be told, no one cares who is cold

so long as the work goes on and the old systems spawn and the drum and the hum of the insane modern living keeps going slowly on as down you are spinning

in silence. a void, too quiet, and yet an island

that's me while the waves of the rest float on crest to crest there's no rest there's no rest i guess

for a restless soul stuck in a hole of

fairly-lighted dark - florescent lights can't warm inside that tundra flaw that never thaws -

you're in the jaws of time, and its standing still. paralysis, dialysis to remove the concentrated sweets, please assist but god no please just go

i can't be touched. don't speak a word. hearing hurts

and speaking worse.

i'm a bee, i'm a bird - and its winter. no southern breeze for this bitter-winged being full of splinters of frost

frost and it glitters but the light here is weak

as milked-down tea, swimming free, i see a sneak peak

of a life far behind, far ahead, a dead thing alive -

and if i can cry, hope the saltwater heats

drip by drip, melts all this frozen rock in my feet.....

i would like to move on. but right now i am simply too held by a song, imprisoned and weak, no longing, not meek.

can't even turn cheeks. i'm staring straight ahead at the blinking blue light

in my eyes - oh god, let me cry.

please.

#poetry

disassociated

from it all

art is the meaning: to give glory, useless, impractical

humanity is the art, the dark, the light, the crown

of the creation - the only ones who can perceive, abstract, assimilate

the beauty of the galaxies' expanse

with the smallest quark.

circles and lines, direction and decoration

that's what it all means.

#poetry

groundless desire

see, the rational aspect of human ability fails here,

in intimate fallout. Puppet, I am, and

do not know why my strings are pulling, being pulled,

drawing me on every pinpoint joint towards your corresponding dents -

magnets? parallel gravity? whatever the force,

it has been the bellows for a spark deep in my belly.

So the fire is rushing now, and I, curious and wary observer,

can only hold my arms and bite my tongue

To keep myself from you. Minimalizing temptation

(Meanwhile, in compromise, inhaling lungfuls of

your strange, satisfying fragrance).

#poetry #passion

hey, self:

dwelling on the hurt gets you nowhere

ignoring it moves you backwards.

so look at it in the face and see it for what it is.

and fix it, damn you. you know the solution.

its all on you. timshel.

love and hate and buttercups,

your self

p.s. this is something I've been meaning to tell you for a long while.

#not sure what this is

goodbye.

i won't be caring about you any longer.

stripped

there's something steel-constructed

under all this melting cotton candy and

fading fabric full of dirt.

a pattern. a plan. realized in substance more solid than bone.

that's me. that's you, too, under

your hopelessly apathetic stuffing and tough leather shell.

under her glass and fragile shining frescos....

we're all built the same. and when stripped

down to this skeletal nakedness...

that is when we see through the decoration

to know what gives us strength.

#poetry #poem #spilled ink #minimalism #love #stripped #skeleton #i don't know #imago dei

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