hello vonnie
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Peter Solarz
NASA
will byers stan first human second
roma★
Sweet Seals For You, Always
ojovivo
izzy's playlists!
Keni
titsay
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Claire Keane
DEAR READER
KIROKAZE
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
almost home
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Not today Justin
Misplaced Lens Cap
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from Poland
seen from Canada
seen from Russia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from India
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from India
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Colombia
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@thoughtful-zombie
Hey, it's been a while since I've posted anything! I've created a new site which I'm dedicating to solely written work, although I might post some other stuff there too. Check out http://ichgrolle-nicht.tumblr.com/ if you like, it gets a little more activity than this blog, though I can't guarantee a whole lot more, I'm pretty slow-paced!
I saw him garbed in green
Like an involuntary function of the tide coming in for the closing
driving back home late on a Saturday night with my boy on my shoulder
Like the blood surging through these hands
as sure as there are spirits who lap and linger against the outsides of closed windows
For they shall always find ways of creeping under door cracks sweeping into our beds and into our hearts
A tidal wave of raw emotion and feeling
He wore my favourite colour he wore our favourite colour he was all brand new he was ripe for the picking
there was my reason
there was my caffeine shot
swirling and swelling on my cold morning feet
With one foot out, one tucked under the body, I sit. She tells me that I am always moving, that the moment I find myself in one place, settled and satiated, I am already flinging myself towards the next step, next face, next place. Always in constant movement, a consistent ...
Coastguard's Cottage
I woke to your breath again this morning.
It had been sitting on my shoulder for hours with honey gold eyes which glowed like two bronze medallions in the early dawn wavering slightly as the moon does when the tide comes in and night’s flame breathes its last when the wax melts away –
Naturally I’m waiting for you to come and get that.
In the meantime I lay alone and just stared at that glorious painting. The same painting I let my dreams take sail in the night you asked me to lie beside you.
The Coastguard’s Cottage at Pourville
It’s funny how colours change with the natural course of time, how my sanity revolves in clockwise motion on the tip of a second hand – one that wasn’t mine, yours rested on my chest for quite some time with hues steadily lightening to match the daylight streaming through the window of your eyes overturning how I perceived just about everything I ever once did.
And my boat’s there, but it’s in the far horizon. Most times even I can’t see it, but I like to imagine that despite daily chaos it floats there.
Maybe it just depends on the lighting, or the time of day.
But she slips away each morning licking her paws and jumping off the bed her tail slinking past the door frame as she leaves the room.
And the memory of her honey gold eyes engrained and bright in my memory and his breath is as easy as the morning sun peeking over the horizon.
The homies Adrian Watkins and Mike Santos of Asleep at the Gate cover a classic Jeff Buckley song! Filmed by AUDIOxCANVAS
Vincent van Gogh
Happy Birthday! (30th March, 1853- 29th July, 1890)
Like the bullet
Breathing calm
I took his shivering hand “Let’s have our own beginning” I said
“you’re grown now
let’s let this end”
We caught the next train anywhere
and filled his father’s rabbit holes with cement and voluntary ignorance
And like the bullet we shot into silence
I wonder if the older boys saw it in slow motion
I wonder if the older boys saw it in slow motion
The moment the bullet scraped his skull
There’s a strange austerity about his father
and a gentle sort of sadness too
With my boy’s head bowing I leant over him and kissed his beautiful brain
The moment his hand let loose the tree trunk
His boots thump in steady duple time down the maple staircase
Bugs in his ears digging holes through the years
and he laid his head against my four-month belly
The moment he slipped from consciousness
His mother had him sprawled on the couch immobile for forty-eight hours
She hadn’t called a doctor
and just cried
The moment he flew in mid-air
”Hey son want to see Buddy fly?”
and with an indelible smirk he flung six kilograms of purebred Jack Russel into the dam where it struggled and choked on his tears
He cried for the circumstances before his generation
The moment his head hit the ground
Tied to the Hills Hoist he watched his father burn his toys
his boyhood hopes and dreams to his feet
Modern day witch burnings
He cried for superstition and genetic predisposition
The moment his limbs collapsed like matchsticks
Witnesses say he’d drowned like a dog in blood and whiskey and complete abandonment when they found him
Police reports say there were rabbit holes in his head
His mother just swallowed
He cried so that maybe he’d drain the dam and Buddy would come back
The moment the older boys dropped the gun and ran
The windscreen didn’t really crack by the force of his father’s back
It shattered by the sound of his mother's screaming
He wound down the window and vomited
I wonder if the older boys saw it in slow motion -
How tormented his father's beginning
and how tormented his son now!
Green and tickled-pink
When the older boys told his father to climb that tree
he must have been so green and tickled-pink to his right ear and like The Wizard of Oz everything must have turned to technicolour
But there are rabbit holes hidden in his father’s head
If Alice were to jump she almost certainly would never touch the bottom
His father
How eerie the fall from grace
How terrifying the gunshot from his mouth
The bullet’s still there but his father’s hair has always been wild enough to shroud its entire existence
A secret shot at two thousand miles per hour into dark tangled forest all black and grey
Some unquestionable place Some indefinable place
Some ragingly silent place
Lost boy
I found my boy in the fog of untold stories and unlearned lessons
I knelt down “Where are you going?”
“Anywhere” he replied
drawing absence and fresh gunpowder into his lungs
Gabriel Fauré, Cantique de Jean Racine. XIXth century.
I had a dream that you put your cheek next to mine and then withdrew
#melbourne #shrineofremembrance
Daughter - Winter
Drifting apart like two sheets of ice, my love Frozen hearts growing colder with time There’s no heat from our mouths Please take me back to my rich youth And we were in flames, I needed I needed you To run through my veins, like disease disease And now we are strange, strangers
She too was afflicted
with that universal impediment
of not being able to smile
