“Note To Self: You’ve Gotta Do This For You. This Is For You. This Isn’t About Anybody. Live For

“Note to self: You’ve gotta do this for you. This is for you. This isn’t about anybody. Live for you. Honour you. Never lose sight of that.”

— Unknown

More Posts from B-luish and Others

1 month ago
Ray at 14

BY DORIANNE LAUX

Bless this boy, born with the strong face
of my older brother, the one I loved most,
who jumped with me from the roof
of the playhouse, my hand in his hand.
On Friday nights we watched Twilight Zone
and he let me hold the bowl of popcorn,
a blanket draped over our shoulders,
saying, Don't be afraid. I was never afraid
when I was with my big brother
who let me touch the baseball-size muscles
living in his arms, who carried me on his back
through the lonely neighborhood,
held tight to the fender of my bike
until I made him let go.
The year he was fourteen
he looked just like Ray, and when he died
at twenty-two on a roadside in Germany
I thought he was gone forever.
But Ray runs into the kitchen: dirty T-shirt,
torn jeans, pushes back his sleeve.
He says, Feel my muscle, and I do.

ray at 14 by Dorianne Laux

1 month ago
b-luish - you've got to believe in the poetry
b-luish - you've got to believe in the poetry
b-luish - you've got to believe in the poetry
b-luish - you've got to believe in the poetry
b-luish - you've got to believe in the poetry
1 month ago

“I’ve wasted a lot of time in my life. I’ve thought too much about what people will say or what they’re gonna think. And sometimes it’s over silly things like going to the grocery store or going to the post office. But there have been times when I really stopped myself from doing something special. All because I was scared someone might look at me and decide I wasn’t good enough. But you don’t have to bother with that nonsense. I wasted all that time so you don’t have to.”

— Julie Murphy, Dumplin’

1 month ago
text id:    Please make me empty, if I'm empty then I can receive, if I can receive it means it comes from somewhere outside of me, if it comes from outside of me I'm not alone! I cannot bear this loneliness. Above all it is loneliness.

"Beautiful Losers", Leonard Cohen

1 month ago
In the un-story
of my life
I am three years old
and my father
lifts me
into the air

and then catches
me again and again,
pulling me into him.
Or

I am thirteen
years old and my father
sits on the porch
with his arm around

me and says yes, yes,
look, everything
will be fine, I’m here.
In the un-story
he has his ties
and pressed shirts
hanging in
the closet next to

my mother’s blouses.
The smell of his

cologne washes over
everything like a pot roast
roasting all
Sunday. But in the story
of my life my father’s
sons have to

call him again
and again and again
and again
like small children

hitting a drum
they can’t stop hitting.
They have to beg
for his attention,
and one even dies,
in his way, for him,
and like life, is buried
without him.

In the story
of my life I inherit
the fathers
of other kids, other
sons. How lucky
am I?

Fathers with names
like Joseph,
Yosef, Josiah, Yasef,
meaning he will add.
Meaning he will
lift you up and catch you.
Meaning he will
sit with you, and your
sorrow will be his
too. Fathers with names

like Ernie, Ernest, Ernesto,
Arnošt, meaning kindness.
Meaning he will walk
among the lepers
of your actions
and listen to them.

Meaning he will not fail you
even as you fail yourself.
Right now dusk is moving
around the house

like a bad babysitter
waiting for her boyfriend
to come over, re-applying
her eyeliner. Outside
some coyotes are lighting
up the air like teenagers.
Meanwhile in the story
of my life

I lift my three-
year-old up into the air

and then catch
him but also catch

myself. In the story of
my life I put
my arm around
my thirteen-year-old
But also around
myself. When I feed
them I feed
myself. When I cool
a fevered forehead
with a cold

rag I cool my own
anger. When I leave
I also return to them
and return

to myself. I know
there are

really three children
in the story of my life.
I must make a home
for each of them.

father by Matthew Dickman

4 weeks ago
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image
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reflections about summer

A Separate Peace, John Knowles / Stand by Me dir. Rob Reiner / Why are you haunted?, filmnoirsbian

1 month ago

“Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place.”

— Unknown

3 weeks ago
Joy Sullivan, “Tomatoes”, Instructions For Traveling West

Joy Sullivan, “Tomatoes”, Instructions for Traveling West

1 month ago
Safia Elhillo, From Spring

Safia Elhillo, from Spring

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b-luish - you've got to believe in the poetry
you've got to believe in the poetry

because everything else in your life will fail you, including yourself

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