Silly Tea Slurper

My name is Jace, and this is my blog for creative things. You can find my writing, photography, cosplay, crafts, personal editorials, and any other imagination-driven ideas here. I'm very queer. Nonbinary; they/them. Feel free to ask any questions. I like plants a lot. This is a side blog of themusicmarionette (Silly Tea Sipper). Hey! My NaNoWriMo handle is Zay the Glitter Monster. Add me as a buddy! I'd love to talk writing and NaNoWriMo with you!

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I write because I have to.

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Calling on Home

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Encouragements

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Heading North

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I miss you

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I’ve been trying to write poetry about nothing and it really hasn’t been working out.

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I’ve decided to take a couple days off from staring down my poetry because just starting at it and reading it over and over is doing nothing for my creative process. Expect to see more poems up next week.

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The curse of the writer

“All my poetry sucks”

This is where I’m at right now.

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To Be a Writer

[poemsfromanunlikelysource-deact]

Beeping

How do you live when so much goes wrong? We say a prayer, argue, sing a song. But the tune is the same, A killer kills and we keep saying their name. A moment of silence, but we still play the game. We’ve become numb to the violence, Numb to the pain. The last few nights I couldn’t sleep, I thought of walking in that club and hearing all the phones beep. I thought who could be calling, to see if they were clear. I thought about who died because someone hates a queer. My sadness turned to selfish and weak, thinking how would I go out to eat? What if I got gunned down walking across the street? But my selfish turned to anger, I got mad at the lives that went. What type of people kill others just because they’re different? At 4am my anger changed to action, I refuse to let these monsters gain their satisfaction. I will not be sad, selfish or mad. I will work every day to help others get rights I have. I will strive for safety for all my fellow human, Because love can heal and I know it because I am proven. I have been healed by others and I will pass that health along. And I won’t get distracted, I won’t have time to sing a song. Spreading my love, so rapid, down to my bones. I will never forget the beeps on those phones.

- CrW

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This is gorgeous.

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I find that sometimes the greatest poems have the most mundane titles.

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I wrote a piece of writing

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What I Was Born to Do

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on being with your Self

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“One”

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The title of a poem can tell the reader just as much as the poem itself.

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This is what my handwriting looks like at 3 a.m.