L’Appel du vide

I write when I am not petting my cat | All writings under 'my writing' are mine (obviously) ... you may also use the tag writtenwork to find them | Twitter: AishaMomand | IG: aisha.zkl

[thenuminousinyou]

Maybe one day red will mean love like roses do.

And capitalism is dying.

And it still feels like hell.

I want to be happy,

while the flames

are burning, but

it still feels like hell.

You’re a toxic lover.

Made me think

you’re beautiful with

the dreams you sold:

A Hollywood romance.

A big house. A

white picket fence.

Two kids and a dog.

(My parents came from

Afghanistan for a better life,

to the same hands that

made them flee, as if it

would feed us)

You see now I’ve grown,

and I just want to cry

all the time, because

nothing about you

was true. But you’re all

I ever knew and what do

we now pray to, since

you killed God.

I think about texting you,

even though my friends

tell me not to.

I stalk your instagram profile,

and I know I haven’t really

moved on.

Fuck, I’m pathetic.

I’m scared

of how alone I’ll be

when you’re gone.

But maybe,

I’ll find myself,

whatever that means,

and see colours,

when I finally heal

when all that’s left

are your embers.

And maybe red

will not be a bad colour.

Maybe it won’t mean

I’m a rebel. You see,

I really don’t want

to be a commie.

That’s just what

you call me.

I mostly just want

to sleep but I gotta

wake up for work,

and rot from staring

at a screen.

And maybe that’s

why I just wanna

sleep. And maybe

one day

red will mean

love like roses do.

[thenuminousinyou]

Life has no reason,

no rhyme, yet love means -

yet joy blooms, like a lone

rose amongst weeds.

The human spirit

is tenacious;

voracious in

its appetite

for grace.

Life is like the

sweetest, sweetest

wine, like love at

first sight, like when

an infant opens its

eyes, and sees

its mother for

its first time.

To hear the symphony

to which

the birds

twirl, to which

the wind

whirls, to which

the earth

spins...

One must drink of it,

but not too much,

for life sours

when it is clung to,

or when it is shoved.

[loneberry]

--Fakhruddin Iraqi, from Divine Flashes

[decipher-my-dark]

"w baed kuli 'iinkisarin, nudrik bi'ana lilqadr ray akhar la yushbih 'ahlamana."

"And after every breaking, we realize that destiny has a different opinion, which doesn't resemble our dreams."

-Mahmoud Darwish

[thenuminousinyou]

I’ll forever carve you

in my mind, a billion ways

before I die.

I’ll forever wonder

how you’ll seem, under

every beam of light.

I’ll forever dream

a dream of you.

So, you can be

forever and never.

[weltenwellen]

Mary Oliver, from “Franz Marc’s Blue Horses”, Blue Horses

[rickbaldwin]

Permission

You need only to ask permission when playing by someone else’s rules. But why would you ever play by someone else’s rules?

Move with your own intentions. Paint with your own colors. Sing your own glorious notes. The world isn’t created until you bring it into existence.

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“Only at night do I feel like a human being. Only at night do I feel whole and calm. Only at night do I feel protected from this world, this noise, this crowd, these problems,”

Nika Turbina, quoted in “Why Did the lives of Russian Child Prodigies End So Tragically?,”

[inafuturewithyou]

The universe whispers to me “love yourself” but why is it that the more I try, the emptier it gets.

@inafuturewithyou

[thenuminousinyou]

mirror, mirror on the wall - a.m

[art-is-art-is-art]

“Speak not, lie hidden, and conceal the way you dream, the things you feel. Deep in your spirit let them rise akin to stars in crystal skies that set before the night is blurred: delight in them and speak no word. How can a heart expression find? How should another know your mind? Will he discern what quickens you? A thought once uttered is untrue. Dimmed is the fountainhead when stirred: drink at the source and speak no word. Live in your inner self alone within your soul a world has grown, the magic of veiled thoughts that might be blinded by the outer light, drowned in the noise of day, unheard… take in their song and speak no word.”

— Fyodor Tyutchev (1830)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Nika Turbina, tr. by Elaine Feinstein, from First Draft: Poems; “The Solitude of Night,”

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Velimir Khlebnikov, from The Collected Poems & Writings of V. K. “My Darling,”

[thenuminousinyou]

Why do you then frown? - a.m

Painting also by me.

[nepofledgling]

Not to be like “we live in a society” but I think a lot of people’s mental health would be significantly less fucked if they didn’t have to function in a system that forces them to think about their value as a human being as based on how productive they are/how much money people can make off them

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“We are twin souls.”

— Federico García Lorca, from a letter to Salvador Dalí wr. c. February 1930

[artist-bosch]

The Garden of Earthly Delights (detail), 1516, Hieronymus Bosch

Medium: oil,panel