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

113 posts

Latest Posts by b-luish - Page 4

1 month ago

…psychiatry assumes that society does not cause distress in biologically normal people, who are considered biologically normal at least in part because they are economically productive. This assumption permits the conclusion that if a person is distressed to the point of unproductivity, it is because that person—not society—is abnormal. Thus, psychiatry’s commitment to biological essentialism not only masks the role of the constructed sociopolitical environment in creating distress but depoliticizes it by characterizing that allegedly irrational distress as induced by biological abnormality.

– Kiera Lyons, “The Neurodiversity Paradigm and Abolition of Psychiatric Incarceration” (2023)

1 month ago
I Can’t Stop Thinking About This Poem Today.

I can’t stop thinking about this poem today.

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

bitch this is all you’re gonna get. this life, this face, this body. you better not ‘maybe in another universe’ your way out of everything. sit your ass down and face this. go make tea and have a picnic and read a goddamn book. kiss your loved ones, send that damn text, and hug your siblings. this is all you’re gonna get.

1 month ago
text reads in a bit of a traditional poem format: "Before my grandfather died, I asked him what kind of horse he had growing up. He said. [words in italics]: "Just a horse. My horse, [end of words in italics]: with such a tenderness it rubbed the bones in the ribs all wrong. I have always been too sensitive, a weeper from a long line of weepers. I am the hunting kind. I keep searching for proof."

The Hunting Kind - Ada Limón

1 month ago
- 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚑 𝚜.

- 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚑 𝚜.

1 month ago
Witchgrass, Louise Glück
Witchgrass, Louise Glück

witchgrass, louise glück

1 month ago
The Last Messiah, Peter Wessel Zapffe

The Last Messiah, Peter Wessel Zapffe

1 month ago

turns out I’ll always carry my 15 year old self. silly me

Turns Out I’ll Always Carry My 15 Year Old Self. Silly Me
1 month ago

The legacies people leave behind in you.

My handwriting is the same style as the teacher’s who I had when I was nine. I’m now twenty one and he’s been dead eight years but my i’s still curve the same way as his.

I watched the last season of a TV show recently but I started it with my friend in high school. We haven’t spoken in four years.

I make lentil soup through the recipe my gran gave me.

I curl my hair the way my best friend showed me.

I learned to love books because my father loved them first.

How terrifying, how excruciatingly painful to acknowledge this. That I am a jigsaw puzzle of everyone I have briefly known and loved. I carry them on with me even if I don’t know it. How beautiful.

1 month ago
From “James Baldwin, The Art Of Fiction No. 78,” Interviewed By Jordan Elgrably, Paris Review (no.

from “James Baldwin, The Art of Fiction No. 78,” interviewed by Jordan Elgrably, Paris Review (no. 91, Spring 1984)

1 month ago
Wake Up Call Fr

Wake up call fr

1 month ago

““When I was about 20 years old, I met an old pastor’s wife who told me that when she was young and had her first child, she didn’t believe in striking children, although spanking kids with a switch pulled from a tree was standard punishment at the time. But one day, when her son was four or five, he did something that she felt warranted a spanking–the first in his life. She told him that he would have to go outside himself and find a switch for her to hit him with. The boy was gone a long time. And when he came back in, he was crying. He said to her, “Mama, I couldn’t find a switch, but here’s a rock that you can throw at me.” All of a sudden the mother understood how the situation felt from the child’s point of view: that if my mother wants to hurt me, then it makes no difference what she does it with; she might as well do it with a stone. And the mother took the boy into her lap and they both cried. Then she laid the rock on a shelf in the kitchen to remind herself forever: never violence. And that is something I think everyone should keep in mind. Because if violence begins in the nursery one can raise children into violence.””

— Astrid Lindgren, author of Pippi Longstocking, 1978 Peace Prize Acceptance Speech (via jillymomcraftypants)

1 month ago
b-luish - you've got to believe in the poetry
1 month ago
Embarrassment Has Good Bones

embarrassment has good bones

1 month ago
Poem of the Week
Everything All at Once
Oliver Baez Bendorf

                                      right now,
someone is having sex and someone
is dying and someone is trying to find
a lid so they can, before bed, put away
the soup and someone is dreaming
of that made meadow and someone
is gazing through a hospital window
to a faraway peak
and someone can’t decide what
to watch so they remain

on the menu screen for company
and someone wants to call but
can’t and someone wants to answer
but won’t and someone is studying
to become a moth scientist and someone
is dizzy and doesn’t know why
and someone is, after work, practicing
the vocal techniques of opera
and someone receives
a phone call saying listen it’s my

neighbor I told you about the singing one can you
hear it and someone
is clutching the heavy still warm hand
of a lover and someone is digging
a hole and someone is waxing
their back and someone
is remembering a poem permitting
bits and pieces to return
and someone
would do almost anything to forget

Oliver Baez Bendorf, “Everything All at Once”

1 month ago
(i) Moneyball (2011, Dir. Bennett Miller) / (ii) The “miracle Mets” Win The 1969 World Series / (iii)
(i) Moneyball (2011, Dir. Bennett Miller) / (ii) The “miracle Mets” Win The 1969 World Series / (iii)
(i) Moneyball (2011, Dir. Bennett Miller) / (ii) The “miracle Mets” Win The 1969 World Series / (iii)
(i) Moneyball (2011, Dir. Bennett Miller) / (ii) The “miracle Mets” Win The 1969 World Series / (iii)
(i) Moneyball (2011, Dir. Bennett Miller) / (ii) The “miracle Mets” Win The 1969 World Series / (iii)
(i) Moneyball (2011, Dir. Bennett Miller) / (ii) The “miracle Mets” Win The 1969 World Series / (iii)
(i) Moneyball (2011, Dir. Bennett Miller) / (ii) The “miracle Mets” Win The 1969 World Series / (iii)

(i) moneyball (2011, dir. bennett miller) / (ii) the “miracle mets” win the 1969 world series / (iii) roger angell, the summer game / (iv) an 11 year old’s letter to baseball / (v) ted solotaroff, ‘the summer game’ review / (vi) chicago cubs win the 2016 world series for the first time since 1908 / (vii) the screwball times

1 month ago
Anthony Bourdain (sexiest thing you can do on a date)...
...you learn a lot about someone when you share a meal together. If your date makes the experience uptight and restrictive, well, the sex is going to be horrible too. ...I don't have much patience for people who are self-conscious about the act of eating, and it irritates me when someone denies themselves the pleasure of a bloody chunk of steak or a pungent French cheese because of some outdated nonsense about what's appropriate or attractive. Stop worrying about how your breath's going to smell, whenever there's beurre blanc on your face, or whenever ordering the braised pork belly will make you look fat. Eating with abandon couldn't be more of a turn-on: it shows you're comfortable with yourself.
A perfect date is with a person who eats without fear, prejudice, or concerns about his or her appearance. I remember one of my first dates with my wife (Ottavia): She ordered a six-pound lobster. I sat there, enraptured, watching her suck every bit of meat from it - she got a standing ovation from the floor staff. She's the kind of woman who will order fillet mignon as an appetizer, followed by a T-bone steak. Her fearless, open-minded approach to food is completely alluring. For a dinner date, I eat light all day to save a room, then I go all in: I choose this meal and this order, and I choose you, this person across from me, to share it with. There's a beautiful intimacy in a meal like that. It's about exploration and taste. And kissing after dinner. And maybe there's a little wine and curry on your breath... and that's nice.
1 month ago

the thing is that childhood doesn't just end when you turn 18 or when you turn 21. it's going to end dozens of times over. your childhood pet will die. actors you loved in movies you watched as a kid will die. your grandparents will die, and then your parents will die. it's going to end dozens and dozens of times and all you can do is let it. all you can do is stand in the middle of the grocery store and stare at freezers full of microwave pizza because you've suddenly been seized by the memory of what it felt like to have a pizza party on the last day of school before summer break. which is another ending in and of itself

1 month ago
Joy Sullivan, From "Long Division", Instructions For Traveling West

Joy Sullivan, from "Long Division", Instructions for Traveling West

1 month ago

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

— Unknown

1 month ago
Jason Molina’s Writing Advice To Matthew J Barnhart Via His Blackberry In 2008 

jason molina’s writing advice to matthew j barnhart via his blackberry in 2008 

1 month ago
In deciding what I am, I’ve ruled out cat, vulture, shoe,
a sadist who tortures people to death in a Syrian hospital,
a president who separates families at the border,
a handful of purple irises at the beginning of the path
to heaven. Is there memory in the shade of a tree
of a lynching fifty years ago, when I was nine? And do I love
that tree? Love the sinner, not the sin. Forgive the electricity,
not the singeing of genitals. The more I know about human nature
the more I plan to be tall grass in a field. Until then
I’ll tell my wife I love her in Toronto and Blacksburg and bed,
in pajamas and bluejeans and song, in theory and fact and dream.
I will not gouge a man’s eye out, I promise, yet the eye is out,
the man is dead, and the geese I’m listening to have no idea
that we’re as wild as the coyotes that would tear them apart.
If given a choice I’d not choose to be human. If given a choice
how to be human, I’d say like a glass of water. While I have
no answers to the questions I don’t know to ask, I can love my wife
in Detroit, in general, in detail, in vain, in spite, in depth,
in the shallow light of the moon, in contrast to hating myself,
in sympathy and in stealth, in time as a ghost and right now
as a poet wondering if surgeons, during a transplant,
tell the shivering and recycled heart it is loved. I assume so,
but I’ve never asked a heart on its second time around,
Were you christened, were you blessed, are you worth
all this trouble?

remedy by Bob Hicok

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