#ghostwritersnw

[saurons]

Do you know what dying feels like? It feels like your thumb skating over the skin of my wrist, your tongue tasting the scars you map out there. It feels like strands of your hair between my fingers as I brush it behind your ear and catching sight of mottled colours I hadn’t kissed on your skin. It feels like your hand on my chest, hovering, whispering if I can feel your heart too; whispering that my name has filled it and you can’t feel anything else. It feels like laying next to you but the sheets feel like an ocean as we lay on opposite sides of the bed. It feels like two years on and seeing you laugh with your fingertips tracing the skin on his wrist. It feels like your name has filled my heart, buried its way in, burnt and carved its letters, and now I can’t feel anything else.

I was the collateral damage — chandler

[existential-celestial]

un-

i try to love in hushed tones somehow                 somehow echoes of my adoration manage to howl out of all the vaults i have built inside these mechanisms housed in ivory calcium hum         hum some lullabies are meant to be sung like war cries carbon, organic, aboriginal tribal drum beats nudging with a violence of softness kissing              coaxing rain cloud confessions out of the saline earth of the folds of my eyelids; on my tongue, the taste of water from lonely lakes lodged inside the inner corners of the said windows of the holy vessel that i am ―all of these clouded visions reveal me (some process of the unclear, clearing): the unrequited the unreturned the unhealing; always             always i am just a tear away from unravelling.

– j. p. berame // no. 072416

[jelotinousblog]

this afternoon i went outside and ran around in the heavy rain and it was exhilarating. it made me feel young again, like when i was a small child. as the sky's tears fell down and washed away my melancholy, they soaked my clothes and skin and they left me shivering, and cold but laughing so loud i was nearly screaming out my joy. this afternoon i went back into the lobby, drenched in rainwater, shaking my hair out like a dog, still laughing to throw myself down on a couch, sprawled out like clothes laid out to dry, to let my wet hair, wet clothes, wet jacket all slowly evaporate in the presence of my body's calm warmth and i realized that in this moment of my life, i am content.

[ghostwritersnetwork]

Attention all fellow writing enthusiasts!

Are you an aspiring writer, poet, or writing enthusiast? Would you like to share your stories, drabbles, ideas, and other work with fellow writers and storytellers but aren’t sure where to go? Do you wish you could get constructive feedback and help develop your craft?

Well, you’re luck because I have the network for you! Introducing the ghostwritersnetwork, which is a safe space for writers of all kinds, whether you do poetry, drabbles, short stories, spilled ink etc. This is a place where you can develop your craft with other kinds and create long lasting friendships along the way. Just a few simple rules!

Rules: Must be following this aspiring writer Reblog this post (likes only count as bookmarks) Fill out this quick form Maybe start using the network tag: ghostwritersnw Deadline to enter is 1/31/17 Choosing 20-25 members but membership will be an opening off and on so don’t worry if you don’t get picked at first. Depending on how many people enter, I may ask for assistance from one or two people.

Other info under the cut:

Looking for: Neat, organized, and clean tagging system Friendly, positive active bloggers Aspiring and current writers who want to share their work

what you’ll get: A follow from me if not already A spot on the members page Endless support from fellow writers An off-line tumblr chat (possibly)

if you have any questions, please contact me and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Have fun with this everyone! Please signal boost and spread the word!

[elevhens-archive-blog]

hello all!

i’m in the process of putting together a writing network. i’ll make a post about it later this weekend. i decided to finally make one after seeing so many around here.

you can check it out if you want here. just wanted to let everyone know. i’m still working on the links and everything. so just be patient.

[existential-celestial]

fata morgana

always we drag the weight of all the mistakes we keep under our pull-out beds thinking to allow them to just jump out and build a cage of scars around the bodies of all the dreams we have ever made why do we try to shrink our own beautiful selves, amputate our own limbs, for every wrong road we have taken? why do we fold our ambitions into the tiniest possible size, put them in our pockets, and make our descent into the bottom of the lake? always we see the hands of the clock like time bombs to oblivion but love, time will stay and we will not so love, remember: do not halt the rising of your cathedral dreams so love, remember: do not demolish all your standing unfinished buildings apologize to the earth for every time you see the abyss rather than your toes, rooted in births, deaths, and histories apologize to the heavens for every time you see death rather than stars, pulsing, alive, palpable in front of your blurred visions with all possibilities and impossibilities you are here and i see you; i see you and i adore you with a fierceness of a blooming rose which chose to plant itself in the middle of a winter solstice with all the subtle visible unseen all this world’s soft, aching violence —do not let the hardness of life smoothen the sharp edges of the softness that is you the world shall kneel in trying to unhinge you, beloved, you.

– j. p. berame // no. 081716

[existential-celestial]

crown

in a dream, i touch the wounds upon my head & in the name of healing, i was crowned cascades of golden sun.

far beyond the dawn, i sing.

– j. p. berame // no. 010917 

[existential-celestial]

altar call

i drag my mind to death across foreign cities from the west shore of the Pacific to the Golden Gate Bridge like eidetic visions like false memories brooding brooding over unmade possibilities of jumping of flying some transatlanticisms

i dream myself awake stretching some hard truths bending unspoken things standing, transparent, ashamed please rip these ribs wide open tell me about this discontent tell me about all this pain i carry them like packs of ration to sustain this heart beating beating chock-full of ambitions

i cry myself apart in bath stalls on bedroom floors under kitchen lights in the seat beside the bus window

teach me how to pick and unlatch broken locks without tearing the door open

teach me how to unclench my chest so you could pluck the stars that burn like the Carina and the Vela constellations carrying false crosses

teach me how to survive in the sea of the dreamless and the unseeing with all these dreams and visions flooding all the cavernous halls of this white stone altar that i am.

j. p. berame // no. 082516 ig  |  redbubble  |  chapbook