Jules of Nature
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Today's Document
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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Claire Keane
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occasionally subtle
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Origami Around
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@thelittlejayebird
Painted whore, selling yourself. Stick on smile and slap. Slap-dash perfection riddled with cracks. You creak like rusty stairs. You think like somebody who doesn't know how. Liar. Love you? Who? Never. Decorate the walls of your stomach - paint them chocolate brown. Regret it later. Regret it. Regret. Do you know who you are yet?
ciara Crumbling Together
We are the fighters, The cigarette the lighters Pouring smoke down your throats And pulling the air from your lungs, Filling the void there With our presence, A cancerous cell Prepared to destroy Itself To take you down with it
Poets (via fadedpunk)
We write to escape the everyday Into a more real version of itself, Of the honest image. The hope and anguish; Simply we write because we feel. Too much. Too little. Or maybe not at all, Maybe we write to feel That hope, That anguish. Experience our own pain And teach it to others So that they may have the chance to feel too.
Why write poetry? (via fadedpunk)
Honey sweet drizzled on soft lips makes them tacky. Saccharine stickiness that glues shut your mouth, And rots your teeth. The sun warms your thighs And burns them to red, Peeling skin to reveal the vulnerable flesh He will hurt you again Though he promises not to. And you will cry. Until he makes the promise again. When she says she’s just experimenting, She means it. Do not hope she will stay, for this summer is not an eternity The girl you love now Will not love you forever. The soft light and gentle heat will distort your view. Make imperfections fade out and time stand still And adventure to never return from With sticky lips and honeydew smiles Scabbed knees and and a numbness to pain That feels as though it will never end. Don’t let yourself be fooled by the illusion of summer. Even this soft light will fade, Eventually.
Summer (via fadedpunk)
Take candids of me. Do not ignore the rolls in my stomach The thickness of my thighs The bulge of my breasts That I refuse to bind Do not ignore How I close my eyes In every photo Do not close your eyes in response. Put my imperfections in focus And blur out the beauty This is reality. Take candids of me. When I am not feeling happy Show the tear tracks down my cheeks And red raged anger Show the world how easily my emotions make me ugly Blotchy skin And snot filled nose Do not come here to show smooth lines and soft features This is a house of raw feeling. Do not ignore this. Take candids of me. In a natural light Late at night When I am no longer at my most attractive Dark bags under rough eyelids Features sunk back into the pallidness of my face Can you face the tiredness you’ll see there? Do not ignore how exhaustion looks under my skin. Nor how broken I look when confronted with my loneliness. Do not choreograph these pictures of me To ignore my imperfections And display me as anything other than Beautiful Broken Myself.
Photographs (via fadedpunk)
Picture perfect Moonlit sky A night Like all others But different Unique Rain droplets Sting The marks in your skin Healed But still soft To touch Hard To see This is what it means To be Whole Warm breeze blowing Gentle rain Washing the past Away
It’s raining and somehow everything feels okay (via fadedpunk)
These are the days of our youth With cigarette smiles And empty souls The smoke burns out our lungs And the Alcohol rots our insides This is the way to feel alive By slowly causing ourselves To die Scream from the top of our lungs So that the world will never forget us And what we have done In this moment We are invincible Feeling type of love You only get when you’re drunk Redefine flawed And you will find the word teenager Perfectly broken Cynical and poetic all at once With poison in our blood No wonder adults are afraid of us We are a generation of changes Taking the world And making it our own In this moment history will never be the same again Burnt out lungs screaming up at the night sky This is how to live
TEENAGERS I (via fadedpunk)
He is a boy lost in time With no meaning and no way of finding one He lives to wander in this world following mind No idea what he might find In his path The obstacles that try to break him at every turn Til the pain of living makes his gut churn Sometimes it’s hard to discern Why we live on this earth Why the boy gets up and continues walking forward It’s hard to ignore the pain in his side The pain he will never be able to cure Of that one thing he is sure All he can do is learn to live with it Fly on burned wings On broken voice chords sing At the top of his lungs until no more sound will come out Until he can’t scream out his doubts That he truly belongs to this world He is a boy lost in space Can’t help feeling like a waste Of space Of time Unable to find A purpose What on earth can this boy with nothing give back to the world that has given him everything? He gives his thoughts His feelings His heart Not quite knowing where to start He gives it all Writes down how he feels Presents it to the world For judgment He never meant to feel this much This little This lost He is a boy lost in time With no meaning and no way of finding one So he writes his own
(via fadedpunk)
There was a storm today. At first I thought it cleared away the sticky stuff, the tricky stuff I hadn't quite been facing. My mind stopped racing as I stood outside - hood down, eyes wide - trying to take in the wonder of the rain, no fear as I thought my pain would be washed out here, on this balcony with the water splashing me. I was at peace, the pieces of me all piecing together. I could stay there forever. But I turned in and there was a leak, water sneaking through soaking books and floor boards. It wasn't too bad though. But the water sytem is connected. Every drop has been affected by somewhere else. No one drop is by itself. And if you tear away gallons from the earth, it'll be a rainy day on some other turf. It's still raining as I make markings on this page. As the sky takes from oceans and clouds eyes of every age. For we are one against this wrong, and so we will sing our songs and fight for freedom, for a life to believe in. There is no sin in my love my God above is weeping with us, reaping souls not yet grown old, forced to come, collect His sons, His daughters, slaughtered by hate. The casualties of a battle we will not make it to the end of. Salt will shine on every face as red rain falls in another place. There was a storm today.
ciara Sunday 12th June, 2016
A whisper in silence The first drop of rain A stretch in the morning The ending of pain An ocean of living Fields of the dead The expanding universe The buzz in your head The girl you remember The boy that you don't The grown-ups who make you When you say you won't The brushing of hands As they come unfurled The size that you feel In this great big world
ciara how big is the world?
The days slowly passed as days tend to do the Winter melted softly into Spring. The sun learnt to smile again and bleating lambs all found their friends and the birds drew in their breath to start to sing. The light stretches for longer hours and wakes before we’re used to now infectious brightness like a virus that kills the darker days I like the way the Spring feels soft against my skin. I like the way the Summer sits and waits to be let in from standing in the rain that’s falling like starlight on a clear cloudless night away from the brightness and bustle of life. But life goes on and life goes on as if it knows what it’s doing and why. As if the sun wants us all to try. As if the wind wants us all to fly. I can feel the universe falling into place. I can feel the universe shining on my face. I can feel the universe.
ciara
The Dawning of Spring
There is no power I cannot feel. There is no strength that I cannot wield. There is no love I cannot know. There is no anger I will not show. You cannot force me in an unwanted role. You cannot tarnish this well-polished soul. I've faith and I've friendship all as smooth as salt. I've imperfect virtues and perfect faults. I am not broken. This body is mine. I will not be torn down or worn down by time. There is no future I cannot achieve. There is no victim I will not believe. There is no beauty I cannot see. There is nothing I cannot be.
ciara
I am Woman, I am Human
happy international woman’s day! (yesterday, but still)
Well my eyes, they have been aching all day From staring at books and humans and hate I fell on my knees - though there was no blood I still got up with my skin scarred with mud And there is a spot on my inner thigh Pick it and scratch it and let it bleed dry, My arms are messy with bruises and scabs From bumps and scrapes I did not know I had, A twinge in my back, and my chest is tight, At least it distracts from thoughts in the night You could use this time to pick me apart So you would see then my bandaged up heart You can always reach it with the right words Though I might not show then that I am hurt For accidents have given me think skin Though I think my cuts can let demons in I’ll handle clumsy, and I’ll handle pain Until I slip in the road in the rain I only show up as hurt when alone I hope I’ll stop falling down when I’m grown.
ciara - minor injuries
There are rivers in my hands, love I can see them through my skin. They swirl and curve and hide with lies The red that flows within. I hold my tension in my hands; They are forever tap- ping out some Morse Code until an- xiety can relax. Veins here reach and stretch in blotches Of yellow, purple, blue. These are the hands that make up me Devoted now to you. I will do whate'er you wish, love; I'm yours, come what may. But if it's my truth you ask for dear, That I cannot obey. And so I touch you softly with My trembling hands and smile As if tears would not flow like blood If I just stopped a while And said the words that line my lips - Darling can you not taste My bitterness? Metallic tongue Scraping out the waste The 'no's that I will never say For fear of losing you. I've broken heart and broken mind I will not break you too. My shattered hands - they fix themselves While I'm asleep at night So that the next day I can count Up syllables and write My poetry - for you my love - And music that I'll play On metal strings, piano keys, Or any rainy day. And wherefore do my hands create But to deliver truth And scrawl down tangled feeling of My absent-minded youth? So if my lying lips deceive You can still trust my art. They say there's a vein in your hand That flows right to your heart. My lips obey, so trust that they Will follow your demands. If you want, listen to my words, But know me by my hands.
ciara - hands and art and lips and lies
Welcome to the New Year! It does not know you yet. I feel it wants to smile for you so do try to forget fears you'll hold tomorrow as the dawn has not yet come for the date is not set until you wake, and turn, and hum, and stretch your weary arms into January First. This is where the new year wakes and stretches into my verse. I'll clean this up tomorrow. For now though, I must rest as one more year has welcomed me and I wish it my best.
ciara - I Am a Poet So Happy New Year
something I scrawled down at five to one in the morning and cleaned up at five past one in the afternoon, 1st January, 2016
It doesn't have to be great. It can start good, then you make it great. Or it starts mediocre, and you make it good, or even bad, which you make mediocre, and so on. Great is an end result. It does not have to start great. It just has to start.
ciara something I wrote because I was lacking motivation
The mirror cannot see the smiles sweet and shadows deep that cloak from cold and cover what she is. She does not eat the food that others do. She drinks warmth from necks love flowing differently but of course they cannot know. They only see the other bleeding so they decide that what they do not understand is wrong. So she paints herself red. She knows an alien boy. People call him by lies and mirrors do not know him. How could they? So he paints himself blue to be the girl he never was. He loves feet and hands but he never drank blood like she did. Mirrors love their colour. But between cracks in paint they saw each other. In invisibility they found comfort. They found love which humans would not understand. So they washed themselves clean and they saw each other true and in easy smiles they found freedom. They did not need mirrors to see them.
ciara
the vampire girl and the alien boy
