Reply
  • Feb 1, 2021

    I am vertical
    But I would rather be horizontal.
    I am not a tree with my root in the soil
    Sucking up minerals and motherly love
    So that each March I may gleam into leaf,
    Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed
    Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted,
    Unknowing I must soon unpetal.
    Compared with me, a tree is immortal
    And a flower-head not tall, but more startling,
    And I want the one's longevity and the other's daring.

    Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars,
    The trees and the flowers have been strewing their cool odors.
    I walk among them, but none of them are noticing.
    Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping
    I must most perfectly resemble them --
    Thoughts gone dim.
    It is more natural to me, lying down.
    Then the sky and I are in open conversation,
    And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:
    Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.

    Sylvia Plath

  • Feb 21, 2021
    ·
    1 reply

    When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
    When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
    When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
    When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
    How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
    Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
    In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
    Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

  • Mar 17, 2021
    ·
    1 reply
    laudi

    When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
    When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
    When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
    When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
    How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
    Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
    In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
    Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

  • As a boy I saw
    As a man I understood
    As a corpse I slept

  • Mar 21, 2021
    Very Based

  • Apr 1, 2021
    ·
    1 reply

    Song of Avignon, Jonas Mekas

    Today I realized that
    I'm 40 and that immense emptiness surrounds me and my soul. I have come to this
    and it is here that my life had led me to. I am in thick darkness, often
    feeling like I'm sinking. I reach for air and I feel today that the only way out,
    my only hope, is to submerge perhaps into this blackness completely, like into
    a coma, not to run away from it, not to stare into it, but to embrace it and
    thus go beyond it with or without perhaps. The pain is stronger than ever. I
    have seen bits of lost paradises and I know that I will be hopelessly trying to
    return even if it hurts. The deeper I swing into the regions if nothingness,
    the further I am thrown back into myself, each time more and more frightening
    depths below me, until my very being becomes dizzy. There are brief glimpses of
    clear sky, like falling out of a tree, so I have some idea where I am going,
    but there is still too much clarity and straight order of things, I am getting
    always the same number somehow. So I vomit out broken bits of words and syntax
    of the countries I’ve passed through, broken limbs of slaughtered houses,
    geographies. My heart is poisoned, my brain left in shreds of horror and
    sadness. I never let you down, world, but you did lousy things to me. This
    feeling of going nowhere, of being stuck, the feeling of Dante’s first strophe,
    as if afraid of the next step, next stage. As long as I don’t sum up myself,
    stay on the surface, I don’t have to move forward, I don’t have to make painful
    and terrible decisions, choices, where to go and how. Because deeper there are
    terrible decisions to make, terrible steps to make. It is at 40 that we die,
    those who did not die at 20. It is at 40 that we betray ourselves, our bodies,
    our souls, by either staying on the surface or by going further, but true
    easiest decisions, throwing our souls back by thousands of
    incarnations. But I have come close to the end now, it’s the question will I
    make it or not. My life has become too painful and I keep asking myself, what
    am I doing to get out of where I am? What am I doing with my life? It took me
    long to realize that it’s love that distinguishes man from stones, trees, rain,
    and that we can lose our love and that love grows through loving, yes, I have
    been so completely lost, so truly lost. There were times I wanted to change the
    world, I wanted to take a gun and shoot my way through Western Civilization.
    Now I want to leave others alone, they have their terrible fates to go. Now I
    want to shoot my own way through myself, into the thick night of myself. Thus I
    change my course, my love going inwards, thus I am jumping into my own
    darkness. There must be something, somehow, I feel, very soon, something that should give me some sign to
    move one or another direction. I must be very open and watchful now, completely
    open. I know its coming. I am walking like a somnambulist waiting for a secret
    signal, ready to go one or another way, listening into this huge white silence
    for the weakest sign or call. And I sit here alone and far from you and it is
    night and I am reflecting on everything all around me and I am thinking of you.
    I saw it in your eyes, in your love, you too are swinging towards the depths of
    your own being in longer and longer circles. I saw happiness and pain in your
    eyes and reflections of the paradises lost and regained and lost again, and the
    terrible loneliness and happiness, yes, and I reflect upon this and I think
    about you, like two lonely space pilots on outer cold space, as I sit here this
    late-night alone and I think about all this and about you and for a brief
    moment I don’t know for how long we meet somewhere between the words, dreams,
    images, space between the words perhaps and I am happy. As I look into the cold
    endless space passing without sound without speed a metal blue endless distance
    between us, but I know you are there, I can feel your heartbeat, my love.

  • Apr 1, 2021
    ·
    1 reply
    Very Based

    Song of Avignon, Jonas Mekas

    Today I realized that
    I'm 40 and that immense emptiness surrounds me and my soul. I have come to this
    and it is here that my life had led me to. I am in thick darkness, often
    feeling like I'm sinking. I reach for air and I feel today that the only way out,
    my only hope, is to submerge perhaps into this blackness completely, like into
    a coma, not to run away from it, not to stare into it, but to embrace it and
    thus go beyond it with or without perhaps. The pain is stronger than ever. I
    have seen bits of lost paradises and I know that I will be hopelessly trying to
    return even if it hurts. The deeper I swing into the regions if nothingness,
    the further I am thrown back into myself, each time more and more frightening
    depths below me, until my very being becomes dizzy. There are brief glimpses of
    clear sky, like falling out of a tree, so I have some idea where I am going,
    but there is still too much clarity and straight order of things, I am getting
    always the same number somehow. So I vomit out broken bits of words and syntax
    of the countries I’ve passed through, broken limbs of slaughtered houses,
    geographies. My heart is poisoned, my brain left in shreds of horror and
    sadness. I never let you down, world, but you did lousy things to me. This
    feeling of going nowhere, of being stuck, the feeling of Dante’s first strophe,
    as if afraid of the next step, next stage. As long as I don’t sum up myself,
    stay on the surface, I don’t have to move forward, I don’t have to make painful
    and terrible decisions, choices, where to go and how. Because deeper there are
    terrible decisions to make, terrible steps to make. It is at 40 that we die,
    those who did not die at 20. It is at 40 that we betray ourselves, our bodies,
    our souls, by either staying on the surface or by going further, but true
    easiest decisions, throwing our souls back by thousands of
    incarnations. But I have come close to the end now, it’s the question will I
    make it or not. My life has become too painful and I keep asking myself, what
    am I doing to get out of where I am? What am I doing with my life? It took me
    long to realize that it’s love that distinguishes man from stones, trees, rain,
    and that we can lose our love and that love grows through loving, yes, I have
    been so completely lost, so truly lost. There were times I wanted to change the
    world, I wanted to take a gun and shoot my way through Western Civilization.
    Now I want to leave others alone, they have their terrible fates to go. Now I
    want to shoot my own way through myself, into the thick night of myself. Thus I
    change my course, my love going inwards, thus I am jumping into my own
    darkness. There must be something, somehow, I feel, very soon, something that should give me some sign to
    move one or another direction. I must be very open and watchful now, completely
    open. I know its coming. I am walking like a somnambulist waiting for a secret
    signal, ready to go one or another way, listening into this huge white silence
    for the weakest sign or call. And I sit here alone and far from you and it is
    night and I am reflecting on everything all around me and I am thinking of you.
    I saw it in your eyes, in your love, you too are swinging towards the depths of
    your own being in longer and longer circles. I saw happiness and pain in your
    eyes and reflections of the paradises lost and regained and lost again, and the
    terrible loneliness and happiness, yes, and I reflect upon this and I think
    about you, like two lonely space pilots on outer cold space, as I sit here this
    late-night alone and I think about all this and about you and for a brief
    moment I don’t know for how long we meet somewhere between the words, dreams,
    images, space between the words perhaps and I am happy. As I look into the cold
    endless space passing without sound without speed a metal blue endless distance
    between us, but I know you are there, I can feel your heartbeat, my love.

    Keep this thread alive in my absence

  • Apr 1, 2021
    ·
    1 reply
    laudi

    Keep this thread alive in my absence

    I will. where you going?

  • Apr 1, 2021
    ·
    1 reply
    Very Based

    I will. where you going?

    Off the internet entirely. I hate where it’s going and need to stabilize myself before the world gets worse. I’ll check in every couple months or so tho.

  • Apr 1, 2021
    laudi

    Off the internet entirely. I hate where it’s going and need to stabilize myself before the world gets worse. I’ll check in every couple months or so tho.

    do what you got to do. i'll be here waiting for you brother

  • Apr 9, 2021

    Some from Les fleurs du mal, Baudelaire; og text in french

    • A une passante

    La rue assourdissante autour de moi hurlait.

    Longue, mince, en grand deuil, douleur majestueuse,

    Une femme passa, d'une main fastueuse

    Soulevant, balançant le feston et l'ourlet ;

    Agile et noble, avec sa jambe de statue.

    Moi, je buvais, crispé comme un extravagant,

    Dans son oeil, ciel livide où germe l'ouragan,

    La douceur qui fascine et le plaisir qui tue.

    Un éclair... puis la nuit ! - Fugitive beauté

    Dont le regard m'a fait soudainement renaître,

    Ne te verrai-je plus que dans l'éternité ?

    Ailleurs, bien loin d'ici ! trop tard ! jamais peut-être !

    Car j'ignore où tu fuis, tu ne sais où je vais,

    Ô toi que j'eusse aimée, ô toi qui le savais !

  • Apr 29, 2021

    Roar breaths that inflame

    Sing melodies that simmer

    Walk paths that are strange

    And shine light fore thou dimmer

  • Oct 13, 2021

    omg people do not post in here lol

  • Oct 13, 2021
    ·
    2 replies

    i be feeling like the little s*** i write is bad lol what do yall think. this came from a deep place.

    u repeatedly indulged a phantom that you should've forgotten about when it died. it took you this long to realize why you thought it was still alive, and when you did, it died. and u freed yourself.

    does this even count as a poem? lmao

  • Oct 13, 2021
    viscera

    i be feeling like the little s*** i write is bad lol what do yall think. this came from a deep place.

    u repeatedly indulged a phantom that you should've forgotten about when it died. it took you this long to realize why you thought it was still alive, and when you did, it died. and u freed yourself.

    does this even count as a poem? lmao

    Course it does brudda

    And it's a pretty dope one at that

  • Oct 16, 2021
    viscera

    i be feeling like the little s*** i write is bad lol what do yall think. this came from a deep place.

    u repeatedly indulged a phantom that you should've forgotten about when it died. it took you this long to realize why you thought it was still alive, and when you did, it died. and u freed yourself.

    does this even count as a poem? lmao

    Poetry gets better when you are more confident in yourself. How you get more confident? That’s up to you

  • Mar 15, 2022
    ·
    1 reply

    For nothing is fixed,
    forever, forever, forever,
    it is not fixed;
    the earth is always shifting,
    the light is always changing,
    the sea does not cease to grind down rock.
    Generations do not cease to be born,
    and we are responsible to them
    because we are the only witnesses they have.
    The sea rises, the light fails,
    lovers cling to each other,
    and children cling to us.
    The moment we cease to hold each other,
    the moment we break faith with one another,
    the sea engulfs us and the light goes out.

    • James Baldwin

    a poem for these times @twinkletoez

  • Mar 15, 2022
    Very Based

    For nothing is fixed,
    forever, forever, forever,
    it is not fixed;
    the earth is always shifting,
    the light is always changing,
    the sea does not cease to grind down rock.
    Generations do not cease to be born,
    and we are responsible to them
    because we are the only witnesses they have.
    The sea rises, the light fails,
    lovers cling to each other,
    and children cling to us.
    The moment we cease to hold each other,
    the moment we break faith with one another,
    the sea engulfs us and the light goes out.

    • James Baldwin

    a poem for these times @twinkletoez

  • Slam... poetry.
    YELLING! Angry????
    WAVING MY HANDS A LOT!
    Specific point of view on things!
    Cynthia! Cyn-thi-a!
    Jesus died for our sin-thi-as!
    Jesus cried, runaway bride.
    Julia Roberts! Julia Rob-hurts????!
    Cynthia! Mmmmmmmm,
    Cynthia. You're dead.
    You are dead, bop boop beep bop bop boop bop. You're dead.
    That's for Cynthia... who's dead.

  • Apr 7, 2022

    Do not love half lovers
    Do not entertain half friends
    Do not indulge in works of the half talented
    Do not live half a life
    and do not die a half death
    If you choose silence, then be silent
    When you speak, do so until you are finished
    Do not silence yourself to say something
    And do not speak to be silent
    If you accept, then express it bluntly
    Do not mask it
    If you refuse then be clear about it
    for an ambiguous refusal is but a weak acceptance
    Do not accept half a solution
    Do not believe half truths
    Do not dream half a dream
    Do not fantasize about half hopes
    Half a drink will not quench your thirst
    Half a meal will not satiate your hunger
    Half the way will get you no where
    Half an idea will bear you no results
    Your other half is not the one you love
    It is you in another time yet in the same space
    It is you when you are not
    Half a life is a life you didn't live,
    A word you have not said
    A smile you postponed
    A love you have not had
    A friendship you did not know
    To reach and not arrive
    Work and not work
    Attend only to be absent
    What makes you a stranger to them closest to you
    and they strangers to you
    The half is a mere moment of inability
    but you are able for you are not half a being
    You are a whole that exists to live a life
    not half a life

    -Khalil Gibran

  • Apr 19, 2022

    man

  • Apr 19, 2022

    there’s a bluebird in my heart that
    wants to get out
    but I’m too tough for him,
    I say, stay in there, I’m not going
    to let anybody see
    you.

    there’s a bluebird in my heart that
    wants to get out
    but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
    cigarette smoke
    and the w****s and the bartenders
    and the grocery clerks
    never know that
    he’s
    in there.

    there’s a bluebird in my heart that
    wants to get out
    but I’m too tough for him,
    I say,
    stay down, do you want to mess
    me up?
    you want to screw up the
    works?
    you want to blow my book sales in
    Europe?

    there’s a bluebird in my heart that
    wants to get out
    but I’m too clever, I only let him out
    at night sometimes
    when everybody’s asleep.
    I say, I know that you’re there,
    so don’t be
    sad.

    then I put him back,
    but he’s singing a little
    in there, I haven’t quite let him
    die
    and we sleep together like
    that
    with our
    secret pact
    and it’s nice enough to
    make a man
    weep, but I don’t
    weep, do
    you?