Turning thought into atoms and atoms into thought.

I write. I study languages. I post quotes and share memes.

[madeinmetaphor]

Star swirls - Black hole

He took another star from my sky

Crushed my wishes into stardust

Left behind only darkness

Placed a star-bit hope in the bin.

And in a billion years

In a trillion lifetimes

In a zillion eternities from now

If we reform and reincarnate I hope I remember

That my cosmos shouldn't revolve around him.

Note to self: he may shine at times like star swirl and sunflower, but he's no masterpiece

[inserqent]

INTERESTING/HELPFUL READS:

19 Ways to Declutter Your Life That Will Prevent Anxiety    

How and Why to Build ‘White Space’ Into Your Day

34 Most Brilliantly Simple Tricks Everyone Needs to Know

According To Science, There Might Be an Upside To Anxiety

Hacks You Can Use to Organize Your Entire Life

6  Easy Ways To Make Extra Money in 2019

Actually Brilliant Advice That Seems Useless Until You Try It

7 Amazing Reasons To Learn A New Language

10 Genius Smartphone Features That Most People Don’t Know About Yet

37 Things That’ll Help You Get. Stuff. Done. In 2019

Crazy Conspiracy Theories That Actually Turned Out to Be True

10 Legitimately Easy Tips for Getting Your Home Decluttered and Organized

The Most Satisfying KonMari Before and Afters

50 Myths About Your Body You Should Stop Believing Right Now

23 Insanely Easy Tips and Tricks Every Driver Should Know           

[mega-otaku]

I don’t know who needs this but you’re welcome

[beautifuletdown2700]

ILL LOOK AT IT LATER

[madeinmetaphor]

Nothing special. Just writing to write. Keep the rhythm. Keep the flow. #poetsofinstagram #poetry #poet #poetrycommunity #poems #poem https://www.instagram.com/p/BrTzQXVBB97/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=h085ev4dxs4j

[madeinmetaphor]

We live on pages

Between imagination

And graveyards of ink.

[madeinmetaphor]

Too old to be 14 again.

My love is complication

to the scheme of daily things.

It wants, it hopes, it needs,

It jokes, it plays, it laughs,

it sings. 

This stupid crush I have on him

it has me in a seize:

my head, my heart, my knees

& art, my hands, my eyes,

& dreams.

[madeinmetaphor]

She used to be a writer.

Where have all your posts gone? 

I’d like to see some new.

I miss the thoughts inside your head.

I miss the craft of you.

I miss those words on paper.

I miss the sound’s imbue

I miss the silence of the lines

Between your verbal slew.

[madeinmetaphor]

I used to love all people.

I used to love people.

I used to love.

I used to.

I used.

Used.

[madeinmetaphor]

Crafting Table

Be careful what you bring to life,

you Frankenstein poets.

The things you make immortal

 might seem wise in the moment,

but at the end of the day

you must own what’s created.

At the end of your life

they are all you show for it.

Immortal love, immortal darkness,

immortal fear, immortal likeness,

you prepare them with grace.

From square one to grave plot

they live well beyond your days.

[madeinmetaphor]

He is carbonation in my blood. The impetus of an earthquake. The flare of a lightning strike. And all at once.

[madeinmetaphor]

Language

Our tongues become wind, 

so breath is born in new words,

echoed through us all. 

I am a gift. I am zawadi.  I am a isipho. I am a rigal. Soy un regalo. Sóc un regal. Ja sam poklon. Ja sam dar. Jestem darem. Jsem dar. Som dar. Sem darilo. Ez a gift im. Ek is ‘n geskenk. Unë jam një dhuratë. Mən hədiyyə edirəm. opari bat naiz. ako usa ka gasa. Iu sugnu un rigalu. Jeg er en gave. Ik ben een geschenk. Olen kingitus. Ako ay regalo. Olen lahja. Je suis un cadeau. Eu son un agasallo. Ich bin ein Geschenk. Mwen se yon kado. Ni kyauta. I ka makana au.  Kuv yog ib tug khoom plig. Én egy ajándék. Ég er gjöf. Abụ m onye na onyinye. Saya hadiah. Tá mé bronntanas. Sono un dono.Aku hadiah. Es esmu dāvana. Esu dovana. Ech e Cadeau. Izaho no fanomezana. Saya hadiah. Ko ahau te mea homai noa. Jeg er en gave. Men bir sovg'a emasman. Tôi là một món quà. Yr wyf yn rhodd. Ik bin in kado. Mna isipho. Emi ni ebun kan. Ndine mphatso. Eu sou um presente. Sunt un cadou. O au o se meaalofa. Tha mi tiodhlac. Ini ndiri chipo. Anigu waxaan ahay hadiyad. Kami kado a. Jag är en gåva. Мен белек эмесмин. Јас сум подарок. Би бэлэг байна. Я падарунак. Аз съм подарък. Мен сыйға сенімдімін. Ја сам поклон Ман атои ҳастам. Είμαι ένα δώρο. म एउटा उपहार हुँ। मी एक भेट आहे. ਮੈਨੂੰ ਇੱਕ ਦਾਤ ਹੈ. मैं एक उपहार हूँ। હું એક ભેટ છું. მე ვარ საჩუქარი. ഞാൻ ദാനം ആകുന്നു. ខ្ញុំជា អំណោយទានមួយ. ನಾನು ಉಡುಗೊರೆಯಾಗಿ ನಾನು. ငါ လက်ဆောင်တစ်ခု ဖြစ်၏။  මට තෑගි වෙමි. ຂ້າພະເຈົ້າ ຂອງປະທານແຫ່ງ. நான் ஒரு பரிசு இருக்கிறேன். నేను బహుమతిగా am. ผม เป็นของขวัญ Ben bir hediye duyuyorum. Я подарунок. 私は贈り物です。។ 나는 선물 입니다. 我的礼物。 زه يوه ډالۍ يم .من یک هدیه است. אני מתנה .আমি একটি উপহার আছি. مون کي هڪ اڻ کٽ آهيان. مجھے ایک تحفہ ہوں. איך בין אַ טאַלאַנט.

[madeinmetaphor]

If I ever fall in love

If I ever say I do,

if I’m ever bought a toaster,

I will build a household

made of bricks around it.

But we won’t have a “home”,

no, we’ll build a “safe house.”

So if my lover ever tries to hide from the world,

I’ll always be there waiting with apple pie.

And we’ll play games in the backyard – forever –

like hide-and-go-seek,

that way he has to count to infinity

before he goes out looking for trouble.

This place will remind us that life changes,

daily, without warning.

It will try to lead you a million different ways at once

and every one might be the wrong path.

But finding yourself on the wrong side of the tracks

is the best way to see

what’s waiting on the other side.

People lose their way.

We get lost, and sometimes

the words or a compass can’t quite be read.

If he finds himself reading a map

of Jabberwocky upside-down

or caught between a Bandersnatch

and a hard place, I’ll stand at his side

to remind him that everything will be ok

if we stop to take a look in the mirror.

But, too, that a mirror will never be big enough

to fit all the demons in a horror story.

And I’ll tell him, “our vanity above the bathroom sink

simply missed out on becoming a telescope.

So, don’t stare too hard or look too far.”

I’ll tell him, “don’t forget I only have two hands,

two arms, but my hugs have four walls,

and you are the one with the spare key.”

And remember how you came here.

When we almost drowned looking for the fountain of youth,

we caught a glimpse of a fallen tower in Atlantis

that pointed to the skyline

over easy street and limbo.

Just at the end of the lane sat a poorhouse

in our hometown that had burned to the ground

time and time again.

But each time a phoenix was born,

and you followed them and their fireworks,

every last one leaving you

just as black and covered in soot.

Until we followed the same one,

soaring on a second wind,

that became the weather vane

atop our inflammable house. 

[madeinmetaphor]

I can count to ugly

I’m 3 parts immaturity

and 2 parts wisdom. 

I’m a 5 out of 10.

I’m a middle-aged kid. 

I dream in cloud shapes

but I wake to rain.

I climb the sky.

I’ve claimed cloud five.

Climbing and falling,

I only get to nine.

Then I count again.

I am not a ten. 

[madeinmetaphor]

I want a love that is cold. Calculated. That I know somedays is exactly infinite or precisely not at all. I want it to cut deep, sink in, sting like frostbite. I want it to be hateful when it needs, honest at all times, and cool when it wants to be.

I do not want a furnace or a flame. I don’t want love to burn out and reduce to ashes. I would rather have flowers die and shovel snow to get to someone’s heart, than ever have to play with fire again.

[madeinmetaphor]

Harvesters

I think I get it now.

How the first man looked up at the stars

with his rows of planted sorrows,

to let them wither and evaporate into the night.

And called it prayer.

Called it God.

There was a time when God was the sun.

When white man were the moon,

Growing harvests they never planted,

Coming at night with borrowed light

To harvest the fields of black.

They took our traditions and baptized them.

To wash their hands of the extract.

And we grew thorns in protest -

Black was the berry

Red was the juice.

Our lives became their promise of cornucopia,

One harvest harvesting another,

Until some stretched each harvest

     t   o          e            a                t

And they stuffed a scarecrow with our history.

[madeinmetaphor]

Binary Haiku - Lives aren’t Binary

Binary Translation: 

All Black lives matter, 

this poem is a ceasefire, 

lives aren’t binary. 

🔫 = 0 ✌🏿️= 1

[madeinmetaphor]

It’s bedtime for you,

Mother Nature says

As she tucks us in

With floods and famine.

No supper tonight,

She says with a kiss goodbye,

So that we may dream -

Dream we wake tomorrow.

[madeinmetaphor]

My passion for writing

It shows

Every time a hack promotes himself

With invisible ink and a rhyme

And claims that fame is art

And money is smart

And I become the fury of a thousand summer suns

The entire ethos/logos/pathos of literary tradition

Distilled into a comeback for his lack of knowledge

And I edge in the last word as if at war

To remind the world that art - not fame, not money,

Art is worth dying for.