HElp!

[helpmypoetryisshit]

Have you ever looked into the face of God? Had your name drip off his lips like honey? No shame in licking it off Because in that moment, I too was a Goddess Righteous, Raving, Rioting Begging to hear my name drip from his tongue again, To know he was thinking of me. That night I was the one who could make God himself drop to his knees And speak my name, Until our bed was the land of milk and honey. Baby, we created the Promised Land.

The Promised Land

[helpmypoetryisshit]

My deepest fear is that I will never be able to love him, Wholly, Completely, As he has loved me. I have a tendency to want What I don't have It's a terrible habit. One that I want to ditch I want nothing more than To love him as unconditionally as he has loved me. But I cannot forget the only Real Love I've had. You and I met working at a summer camp your parents managed You loved me too, I could tell. But we were in an open relationship Where you were seeing Mary Jane Molly Lucy Nikki and needed more than a little Liquid Courage to help. Day tripping was your side job. Even though you never treated me badly I knew you would never quit. Not for me. Not for anyone. But God only knew how much I loved you. We were afraid that if we said those words We'd scare the other away Or maybe you didn't know what Love felt like. You knew you were supposed to pay for lunch, Kiss me, Open the door on occasion But maybe we were just kindred spirits. It sure as hell felt like it the night we met. We talked nonstop for hours A jumble of words and half begun stories Jumping over each other because we couldn't wait to tell the other about something. I don't remember the next day But I remember sneaking into the kitchen that night to find the most disgusting hot pocket I had ever eaten And then deciding to make chocolate chip pancakes instead We (I) burnt them, but we ate them anyways I remember I spent the whole night waiting for you to kiss me. Hoping I'd have the chance to taste the burnt chocolate on your lips. The next day, after we finished our work We snuck down to the river while my dad was gone And the kids were off on some activity I don't remember how But before we kissed I remember being wrapped around your waist I don't remember if I kissed you or if you kissed me But I remember what you said afterwards. You said it like you saw the world in a new light You held me I stared at you I had never seen eyes catch the light like your's do I remember how when you looked at me as the sun filtered through the trees, My breath caught in my throat And I saw the world in a new light I remember how I loved you I remember how I miss you

I REMEMBER

[helpmypoetryisshit]

There was barbed wire around your tongue. And if you hadn’t left I would have let myself be cut to ribbons.

I MISS THOSE OLD WOUNDS

[helpmypoetryisshit]

I can’t say I have a vivid recollection of what happened. It feels more like a drunken haze to me. You should know, I don’t remember faces well. You get in my car. It’s raining. Somehow we end back up in your car, Driving to your hotel. I keep my head down in the lobby Because the people at the front desk had eyes like surveillance cameras. You were staying in Room 216. After that the night becomes a little hazy. I know we talked for a long time About art. About life. About sex. About us. Then you finally kissed me And you sent shock waves through each nerve ending. I felt like I went digging around in light sockets with a fork. Or like we both dragged socked feet along carpet. Soon there was a blizzard A shirt here. A sock there. My bra hanging from the ottoman. Your touch was both electrifying And comforting Frantic and hair-raising at first Then quiet and soothing like a lullaby Our first hug felt like coming home Like you have been where I should have always been You have become my safety, I don’t know how I feel about that. I feel I should only depend on myself Because that is how I’ve survived But when I hear someone say your name Everything thing come flooding over every dam I’ve ever built around you And there are a lot of them. I get a little scared, Because I’ve never been so attached before I remember that night, In Room 216 Because that was the last I saw of you It’s okay, Don’t feel too bad I’m doing just fine. I’m happy, I no longer have the compulsion to text you all the time now. Slowly, I’ve started to separate myself from you. You sent me a message yesterday And I was transported back to Room 216 Where your hands were rough on my hips But smooth on my thighs Matching love bites on our necks I promise I still miss you Especially when I’m alone at night, Just not as much anymore.

c.c.

[helpmypoetryisshit]

My favorite part of long drives Or trips to unusual places Is falling in love with strangers. Someone passes by on the sidewalk Or gets stuck beside you in traffic, Or sits close to you on the bus. They don’t look too special But something about them makes you notice them. Maybe it is the way your eyes catch, Makes your heart go a-flutter, Makes an attempt to leap out of your chest And run to them. But you know the love is short-lived. One of you will have to go a different way, Or get off at an earlier stop But that love gives me a little hope. I wonder if anyone has fallen in love with me. Seen me across the street, Did I set your heart a-flutter? Did you notice anything special about me? P.S. To the blonde boy taking pictures of something as you were driving behind me in traffic: You should totally call me

c.c.

[helpmypoetryisshit]

Do you ever have sad days? When nothing really goes wrong But nothing really goes right? And you feel a little sad Depressed Lonely Like you need to know others exist Have you ever forgotten others are alive? That everyone else is living alongside you Thinking their own thoughts Living their own lives? I do Time to time When I start feeling lost When I need to feel grounded Today, nothing really went wrong But nothing really went right Today was Limbo Today was Hanging in the Balance I’ve become lost in reality I’m scared and exhausted I need you to take my hand Drag me back down to earth And remind me that I am still human That you are still human That we are still human. Because I will have days when my mood is a Rainy Day And days when my soul is Overcast And I will need someone to hold onto my kite tail So I do not become lost in the Thunderstorm Days And the Earthquake Nights. Sometimes my days are full of sadness And my nights are full of tears. Even though I don’t want to be dependent I will entrust my kite tail to you Because I cannot let myself float away just yet. My life still needs living And people still need loving And my dear, I still need to hold you I still have a few tears, Happy or sad, That need to be shed in your name. I still have nights to lie awake, Thinking about the night we spent together And how you seemed more nervous than I felt. I still have paintings to create That show people how your skin felt when it pressed against me I still have poems to write about how I feel when you look at me So dear, please don’t let go.

c.c.

[sessioneleven]

GO WATCH THIS SHOW, HONESTLY IT IS SO AMAZING. 

IF THIS POST CREATES 1 NEW PUSHING DAISIES FAN MY LIFE = MADE. 

[dottewa-deactivated20200728]

Alright let me help out then:

1) Most of the cast is female. In fact only two main characters are male.

2) Both male characters take typically non-masculine hobbies. Emerson Cod knits almost non-stop and makes pop-up books. Ned is literally called “The Pie-Maker” because he bakes homestyle pies from his mother’s method. Both are shown to be very nurturing and even maternal characters. Conversely, the women? A pair of professional travelling show performers that have gritty sexual scandals the way men usually get (see the entire “Chuck’s father” storylines), a beekeeper who is the single most positive and optimistic character imaginable, and a former professional jockey- Three of four pro athletes.

3) You could very easily make the claim Ned is asexual.

4) Yes, the storyline is about romance. But it’s also about the positive side of a love story, and their only drama lies in overcoming their inability to actually share contact.

5) A very good friend of mine recommended this show to me as “Disney for adults.” I told her it was already on my list to watch because “It’s by Bryan Fuller, from Wonderfalls and Dead Like Me.” Bryan Fuller is now most known for “Hannibal.” The same camera methods and bright colours and lighting techniques Hannibal is known for? Perfected in this show, just using a different tone- The same colour methods in reverse, upping the vivid greens and yellows instead of reds and blues, which sells emotion both ways.

7) Probably one of the best examples of a modern day fairy tale possible.

8) Narrated by Jim Dale- The narrator for the HP audio books.

[thefoodispeople]

I don’t know if anyone’s already added links to this, but all of these here work and if you hover over the links, an episode description shows :)

Season 1:

Pie-Lette

Dummy

The Fun in Funeral

Pigeon

Girth

Bitches

Smell of Success

Bitter Sweets

Corpsicle

Season 2:

Bzzzzzzzzz!

Circus Circus

Bad Habits

Frescorts

Dim Sum Lose Some

Oh Oh Oh… It’s Magic

Robbing Hood

Comfort Food

The Legend of Merle McQuoddy

The Norwegians

Window Dressed to Kill

Water & Power

Kerplunk

[ohmylaurie-deactivated20150427]

This post is the reason I started watching Pushing Daisies and I encourage everyone to do the same

[awkwardstandinglewiskennedy]

Please for the love of god watch this show. I’m still bitter they cancelled it.

[hellorhightreason]

Okay so thanks to this post I finally decided to have a go at watching Pushing Daisies. I have made it as far as the title screen of the first episode and I’m already in love, and ready to support the “Ned is asexual” claim. Thank you, pushing daisies bloggers :3

[helpmypoetryisshit]

You always make me do this, you know? I don’t ever give a shit if anyone responds to me, but whenever you stop talking to me I get so frustrated. It’s like I have to remind you of my presence, everyone else remembers me with vivid clarity. But you don’t, it’s like you’re looking at me through the bottom of a soda bottle and then you forget what you’re looking at and stop caring. Maybe you are the one who turned me into a poet and made me miss people. Because you offer to come see me or you send me a message and then you never say anything else and I send you message after message with no response. And then I cry, and get angry, and get furious, and then I write. Then I want to be drunk, so drunk I won’t remember who you are. So drunk I start to look at you from the bottom of my bottle of whiskey. So drunk I won’t feel bad sending you the seven messages I’ve already sent you with no answer. I think you may have a girlfriend, so I hope you don’t come to town. Because if you come and sit down to have coffee with me you probably won’t leave until you have my tears or my love bites, and if you have a girlfriend I don’t want you to have either. I’m not sure if you’re real, because I’m beginning to realize we are both looking at each other from the bottoms of bottles.

Texts to previous boyfriends (Corey)

[helpmypoetryisshit]

I have a lot of fucking problems And you are one of them. I’ve found recently that there is no other human being That compares to you. I haven’t found a single one who I can Talk to about mindless matters without stopping. I’m two guys deep Since you. And I’m sitting here with your taste in my mouth The taste of smoke and strawberries The taste of the time we spent the whole day Learning each other’s touch. I can still taste you Lingering under my dry mouth of regret. I’m two guys deep And neither of them have understood what I need. That I need you. I am tasting the salt of my tears. I am two guys deep And I still trace the pattern of the bruises I got from archery together I can still taste the time we made out to Sharknado 2. I am tasting my regret. I am tasting the tightness in my throat. I am tasting you I am still tasting you not tasting me anymore

I’m still tasting you (Mark)

[helpmypoetryisshit]

She is a Goddess. She is the Force of Nature Stronger than the lion or the bear More powerful than the tide More savage than the wind Her mind is the forest Her body is the ocean With every thought, she sends a breeze through the trees With every heartbeat, there is a wave Her mind is feral and clear Her body, powerful and strong She is a queen She is the Earth We are her subjects But we are not loyal We disrupt her breeze By tearing down trees We pollute her body Her heart is failing She needs to be resuscitated But the Moon is too far away His hand stretching towards her like a lover But he cannot reach her. This is no longer a Natural World Our humanity has taken over We are no longer in touch with our Wild. Once, She was a queen Once, She was the Earth

“The Earth”

[helpmypoetryisshit]

Heat is created by the blood pumping through your veins, your heart working. Heat is felt by the skin. But also your very core. You feel it coming off of someone else. Then you become aware that they’re alive with you, that you aren’t alone. Their heat is comforting. Their heat is comforting because it isn’t your’s. Your heat mixes with their heat as you sit next to one another without quite touching, your pant legs brush lightly and then they say a soft word under their breath and it brushes across your ear. Your heats mingle and it’s like your souls are brushing against each other and as your foreheads touch you feel that if they’re to never touch you again your soul would become stone because it has gotten so hot that it is molten. If they were to leave you alone you would have to be heated to boiling to feel anything. When you laid in bed next to them, with their sweat on your skin, you knew you would never cool down unless you were dropped in ice water. You can’t remember what it felt like to be warm because now you are smoldering. The heat is now a necessity, you don’t feel you could survive without looking them in the eyes and brushing souls. Their soul has become the hearth for your fire on a cold night. Your heat is released as veins get close to the surface of your skin. When you touch their skin, it feels like it’s burning you, but you don’t stop touching them because eventually, you will get used to the raging inferno.

Heats

[helpmypoetryisshit]

I am certain I speak a new language The first sign of a new age My path now crystal clear She is here. With her character She has come to light They blindfolded her So she would find her way So she would not be recognized as anyone other than herself. And if one could understand such majesty A resuscitated angel. She had eyes The bass of isis Her tears were the long awaited rains Of a parched somali village But she had forgotten to cry. She had allowed him to mispronounce her name Which had eventually led to his mispronouncing her own dreams. She is within us. This is her body. This is her blood. She is here.

She, a found poem.