Jun 12, 2024
i should have trusted my gut,
when the moon whispered secrets
and the stars danced in agreement…
seen from Sweden
seen from United States
seen from Dominican Republic
seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Dominican Republic
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Italy
seen from Germany
seen from Australia
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France
i should have trusted my gut,
when the moon whispered secrets
and the stars danced in agreement…
Don’t Write Every day: Looking Back at the Productivity of 4 Years of Monthly Word Count Goals
Hello to my blog. Long time no see. I’ve still been writing, though, I’ve just been writing more longform work that’s harder to post to a blog than poetry. I might try to make more reflection posts or write more poems again, to have something to post here, but I do love my novels. Writing Reflection In 2020 I stopped trying to write every day and started on monthly word count goals. Since the…
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Sylvester Stallone's author portrait, perhaps the most accurate author's portrait known to mankind
Space
Let's light some cigarettes
and the shared smoke will
fill the space between us
If I Breathe Death
At least I'm not speaking fire
I know I'm venomous
When I let the world create a
Black Hole between us
But if we cold just shut up
And share a smoke
Enjoy the silence
You're made of fire
And I'm a walking swamp creature
If we just keep our space
I think we could sign our hearts out
If we could live in space
I think the vacuum might do
Us Some Good
Our language has always best been spoken without words
Our love is something that is more than our lack of self-worth
Our hearts we wear them tattooed on our forearms
And the wound never heals
it just keeps on bleeding
Floating without a tether
Lost Psychonaut
Without a Home
My country the nebula I see in your eyes
Your House
Is somewhere out here that I can't find
In the silence
As far away
As we drift apart
still feel
the beating rhythm
the sound of your - - -
years have passed since ‘home’ was a place a house with enough muscle mass and resilience to hold a family together you'd be home by now if you could walk back to the past
MT
A Line a Day
I mentioned this idea in this post, but I’m going to be posting one line from each day’s writing session. It’ll be from a mix of my wips, and since I jump around a lot as I write, it won’t be in any particular order. I’m looking forward to seeing the fun mess at the end of this!
I’ll edit the post everyday, but I’ll only reblog it once a week. Feel free to join me and make your own!
Love is a funny fickle thing.
Love, as I have seen it, never works out.
Love, when concerning the human race, is a fools errand.
It’s a constant game of who loves who more,
and I can’t deal with the drama, the constituents. The promises and broken promises,
the misunderstandings and miscommunications. Loving people… Is impossible.
So I hope when you read my poetry, you feel loved.
Not by me, not even by my words, I hope you feel love from yourself.
I hope it radiates & oozes to fill every little crack & crevy,
to brighten all your hard days and scariest nights.
I hope my poetry encourages you to believe in yourself,
to know how gorgeous you are;
how smart,
how funny,
how deep,
how kind,
how glorious you are.
Because I see you.
Even if we never meet. I see you.
And I love you, so much.
A poem about a childhood memory. Sometimes you learn things from people who aren’t supposed to be teaching you those lessons.