macklin celebrini has autism
TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
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Color Me Curious
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gracie abrams
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
YOU ARE THE REASON
art blog(derogatory)
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Show & Tell
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
almost home
The Bowery Presents
Claire Keane
Love Begins
#extradirty
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Cosimo Galluzzi
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seen from Panama
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@soulofanadventurer
My anxiety is through the roof The truth — Be damned! Unplanned scrolling doling out unnecessary feelings I’m dealing with the devil in the sly I try to say good-bye but I don’t wanna die to myself. There you have it. My wealth is in my looks it cooks deep inside my pride Unhooked, a slow tease I breeze through my life trippin’, dippin’ my toes in Nothing — Stirring up the pot…
The correlation of art and science, and its natural entropy
A short notes poem:
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Morning Song
My fingers are full of music and the backyard with inspiration blowing respite from hazy summer beats. Boring birds sing hallelujah on electric vines, in harmony with the B-side of the wind, tracks laid down in suburban trees. And doves mourn the passing of the mellow night, the morning traffic swelling like a symphony: a shell held to the ear bringing whispers of The Pacific Coast…
The Fourth Chair (Everyone Has a Seat at the Table)
Your table is a simple thing: it’s made of plain, unfinished wood and only holds room for four, but though the object itself is unspectacular, you’ve poured your heart out on it to care for those who matter the most. You pull out the first chair to honor your parental figure, or the one who took it upon themselves to guide you like they would a son or daughter. They loved you, cared for you,…
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You Can Bet On It
I’ve held you closer Than a handful of bad cards drawn, odds on the house. I’d bet money on losing my sanity to a gambler’s dream — That I can still win even as the dealer drags my chips once again Across the table he puts on a placid smile — an invitation — Play another round? Or walk from the fantasy of you and of I. Victim or active player, in my own demise? You can bet on it.
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How do I learn to let go?
(And do it again and again.) How do I keep my hands from shaking – like an overeager pet – when they at last notice their master gazing at them after walking softly through the door? How can I beat you out of my heart when my heart has already pounded you against my ribcage like a tattoo so that nothing can remove your stain? Or put another way: how can I drain you from my…
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The Forces Cry Out
With One Voice Howling with rage together, as if to say- We will have our peace.
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Reverence
A Contemplation of House Finches Red breasted house finches punctuate the dark stained pavement only a few steps beyond my back porch, bowing copper dusted heads to the emerald grasses and the swollen fruit fallen from the rain heavy branches of the grapefruit tree. The last breath of storm clouds sighs away to the foothills to the north and pale sunlight filters from the…
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“Damn,” I say.
It doesn’t encompass my disappointment enough.
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“Damn,” I say.
It doesn’t encompass my disappointment enough.
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For anybody reading this I need your help!
I wrote the first chapter of a fantasy novel for a writing challenge on a site called Vocal. The more reads it gets, the more notice it gets on the site, and the better chance is has at getting noticed by the judging panel. All you gotta do is pop on over and give it a quick glance, and I’m already moving ahead! Here’s the link to the story: https://vocal.media/fiction/the-campaigners I’d…
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2 am Thoughts on a Bungee Jump
A fine line a fine line. Madness is always a fine line away. It’s crazy how I can feel this way And not be dashed to pieces. In Christ alone my hope is found. He’s the invisible hand guiding me down the narrow path Keeping me from total destruction. I suppose you could say He’s the bungee cord that holds me securely Even as I slip… Even as I JUMP! (Even as I…
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MMXXII
There’s poetry to life I think. A cadence, a tune, a melody. It’s off beat most times, often off key and dissonant, and perhaps a little self important, but it’s us that makes it beautiful. The life we lead has a rhythm uniquely ours. Nobody can really tell where it’s going next, Or how it will pan out, or how long it’s going to last. It’s a contemporary dance,…
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My Brain is a Ball of Cats
A bag of yarn Flip flopping like a dying fish -It’s hard to move forward when forward means going back into the loop- Messy is necessary, but I wish it was clearer in the middle. Standing in front of a mirror, seeing fact does not to alleviate the fact, that the brain is a mass of conflict and contradiction. Idiosyncrasies made to make you feel safe, but not thriving. To thrive you must hurt,…
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A Thursday Ramble that Digresses into a Passionate Description of Nature
Confidence. Wear it, write it, do it. Eat up the passion, the obsession, the art and spit them back out like the seeds of a watermelon on a warm summers day in the garden And watch them grow. For it is nature that leads you to the center of your soul, where you will find a small patch of land to nurture. Work the land well, and one day there may be a riot of artists tangled together,…
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Nothing More
It seems to me that poetry is nothing more than a thought. A sigh of the heart, reaching towards nothing more than a cry for understanding. The soul aches for a likeness to be found in nature, another human connection, which is (I believe) nothing more, or less, than the meaning of life.
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A library is like a graveyard, and I, the necromancer.
The power of books is a magic underestimated. It is a summoning of the dead, a sweet smelling bouquet of decay that transforms those who take it in their hands. To raise one corpse is to resurrect a revolution, an epiphany, a good friend. It is power, it is relief, it is a release, from the throws of the living, for a while. To trace the veins of ink across the page is to call back shades…
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