July 2011
1 post
March 2009
1 post
Such Writing! →
Killing the American Dream.
February 2009
1 post
January 2009
23 posts
SHE CARRIES HER OWN PROTECTION
The things she has been called for this one simple act. She doesn’t care. She knows that nobody will love her as much as she loves herself—nobody had so far, anyway. She hadn’t lost hope, either. }}church{{
“Writing is a form of therapy. Sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write,...”
– Graham Greene (via breathsoftruth) (via whileibreatheihope) (via andeventhis)
the mountaintop
fiftywords:
Well I don’t know what will happen now.
It was cold. See the rain, sprinkling puddles in the streets. See the faces, cheering under the clear light of the Mason Temple . See King’s face, now tired, strong, serene.
I’ve been to the mountaintop, he says. And I don’t mind.
“There’s a big fucking world out there. It’s messy, and it’s chaotic, and it’s...”
– In the Land of Women (via littlemiss) (via headlights) (via breathsoftruth)
2 tags
thoughts before bed
I have been unhappy with the images I paint. Find myself incapable in reflections of my inabilities—to let go. The pain washes away in streams; the bond set in stone. Love worn, patterns of soft rains of fire and electrical jolks embed in growing and expanding upon the base of those, and what we know.
I love you dearly, despite my pricks. I hope you get to read this.
“i will not be silent, silenced or weak. I will be respectful, respectable, clean...”
– Anonime
“that mimosa grove - the haze of the stars, the tingle, the flame, the honey-dew,...”
– vladimir nabokov, lolita (via littleghost)
Dry.
clever-clever, busy-be. cashville:
“It’s been a long time since
handshakes at the door
dropping names like dead soldiers
it’s the best clever compliment you’ve ever received.
Each lover
a rough patch on your robe of self affirmation.
Realizing that this was just a
ceremonial capitulation.”
A Californian Fall.
I have seen this tree!
goldinfifty:
The flaming bushes blood-drenched frost-fired tips cascade multi-story, as though pouring from the crimson open mouth arch of molten sun—its blood-orange dripping ambered-golden breadth upon the horizon. Limpidly stained and flailing fire shards of glistening soggy glass testaments gripped tight by the sooty spider-legged tentacling branches of winter; beside...
December 2008
25 posts
12/26/08
Well, if this is true—then you are truly a noble soul on a righteous path… I only ask because I know a little something about addiction. Sometimes our past reaches out in ways which aren’t meant to do us harm. Sometimes people look to light (you beyond the darkness) to lead. Sometimes the only true salvation comes from those whom have shared in similar patches of darkness. I do...
1 tag
in the gold room now
So eager, to be—correct, licking lips the taste of fruit and labor. Love: if there is one thing I will teach you to believe in it is this… One act—play; behind the iron curtain of (s)our selfish hearts—there Lays a motherland, a fatherland and we—their habituates; lead them Not into desecration—of truth, alight by false publication, the players Mask—the idols...
12/26/08
havent-got-a-prayer: what if he is clean?
pie0:isthisblood: krby: fcukthequeen:kapi:Yeah...
mogadonia:
Alpha & Omega: No Peace In The City
Scarling faces made as I turn to go & and you turn...
goldinfifty:
Plugging my eyes, setting this stage that we can’t engage; so we cut all ties by candlelight. Another deep depression—calm before, storm’s shaking in our heart. We sacrifice, we pay a price: all these words—unsaid, drink to forget—name’s written in snow. Iced anxieties—purging these: last meals—with this secret we can’t know.
(expanded from: tiny-poemadoes)
“The wrestlers don’t really hate one another…”
– “The Wrestler” (via reversecowgirl)
snow and dirty rain by richard siken
reigningdream:dilaudid:unicornology:
Close your eyes. A lover is standing too close to focus on. Leave me blurry and fall toward me with your entire body. Lie under the covers, pretending to sleep, while I’m in the other room. Imagine my legs crossed, my hair combed, the shine of my boots in the slatted light. I’m thinking My plant, his chair, the ashtray that we bought together. I’m thinking...
los angeles, aubade you fair well
goldink:
Thick molten snake’s coiling and crossing compounded across southerly valleys unraveling thinning misted coastal mountain ranges as Luna reaches silvered sliver higher — still. Mother spreads herself black. Filial veins of light driving her. Not a living camera can capture the images, in justice.
Boy do they try.
Flying Through Clouds at Dawn.
tiny-poemadoes:
slice veil dividing architecture from light find origin a place before -the dashed expanse ahead
colored moons repel gravity by sheer halo floating blind horse powered chariot
cross horizon I’m morning on fire.
“Oh shit, I just broke the Internet.”
– Kaminsky
“If you limit your choices only to what seems possible or reasonable, you...”
– Robert Fritz (via thresca) (via littlemiss) (via here-i-come)
HELP! Thinking cap on...
goldinfifty:
I’ve been wanting to do write this for quite some time: a poem (or what have you) regarding the plight of the rockstar (popstar, rapstar, one-hit-wonder) comprised mainly of one-liners.
example: Goodbye Norma Jean (elton john)
I release it to the tumblrverse to see what comes up.
THE PLIGHT OF THE ROCKSTAR
Goodbye Norma Jean, Your face broads from my table, intelligent,...