Me: *sleeps In*

A Siren’s Song

When I walk past the places we once stood The air hums with the exact frequency of my soul A song for ears atuned to silence How could I forget them, those words we never did quite say ? They flood my black, night-darkened eyes like white river rapids A whirlwind, a maelstrom, crushing waves and groaling winds Just pure feral strength, sweeping me off my feet Your memory hits me, violent and tidal Dragging me off shore, to the mercy of furies Thoughts that I have not appeased for a long time I fear I will drown, choke on the heartache that fills my lungs I’m not sure I can survive you twice For the deepsea sirens await Like ferocious hounds, starved of food and attention Fangs planted deep in me, things I want to ignore But I once have howled with them For years and years, I called for you everyday My shrieks, silence swallowed them all My hoarse throat strangled with salt and bitterness I couldn’t keep singing and let you become a casualty of me I was deprived, thirsty for storms and thunder But I will swallow this ache, force the tumultuous waters to settle Much like I did back then, I will walk away Let the ocean creatures plunge back to their abyss Return to my darkness

Here is a not very Christmas-themed poem written for and inspired by @heartofmuse. I used phrases from some of her wonderful poems (which every one of you should definitely check out) as well as themes that are recurrent in her works. I hope you like it e.v.e, have a wonderfully merry Christmas and a new year full of inspired musings !

life is like the short flash of lightning

so bright it is blinding my eyes

and if i blink the spectacle has already disappeared

i only see it when it’s over and i close them

the flash burned blue into my pupils

the thunder a bitter aftertaste

like always i wish

to have kept my eyelids open 

and truly see for once 

that spectacle that is life

“I do not desire mediocre love. I want to drown in someone.”

— (via nostalgicnerd)

Happy International Lesbian Day, and shout-out to all our lesbian followers!

If you’re looking to learn some lesbian history to celebrate the day, check out our episodes on these wonderful women - it’s impossible to say for certain if all these women were lesbians, but they definitely have a place in our conversations about the history of women loving women!:

Anne Lister - 19th century English landowner who journalled the intimate details of her love affairs with women in Secret Lesbian Code.

Audre Lorde - self-described “Black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet” who fought for women who, like her, were excluded from mainstream US feminism, whether because of class, race, sexuality, or disability.

Yoshiya Nobuko - prolific author whose popular works on friendships and romances between women made her the richest woman in Japan

St Brigid of Kildare - 5th-century abbess whose rejection of marriage and relationship with fellow nun Darlugdach has made her an inspiration to Irish queer women

Chavela Vargas - Costa-Rican-born musician who put a lesbian spin on traditional Mexican music

Bíawacheeitchish - a renowned warrior, and highly ranked Crow chief in the 19th century, who married four wives (note this image is of Barcheeampe, a possibly-fictional Crow woman who may have been inspired by Bíawacheeitchish - we sadly have no pictures of Bíawacheeitchish herself)

[Images: portrait of Anne Lister; photograph of Audre Lorde next to blackboard which reads “Women are powerful and dangerous”; Yoshiya Nobuko; stained glass window of St Brigid; Chavela Vargas singing on stage; line-drawing of Barcheeampe on a horse holding a spear]

I listened to Bukowski this morning, and I realized my writing is not raw enough, angry enough, drunk enough; I even drink red wine instead of cheap beer. I detest cigarettes, never served in war, or roamed the streets looking to settle on the bed of some dude’s crude floor. I’m too feminine, too much an inherent believer in the quality of people. My heart is adversely set against his heretical ways. I’ve never been stabbed in the back by love, or if I have, I pulled the prick out years ago, and time and forgiveness have sealed the scar over. I might have even forgotten where the wounds are buried. I never carved mistakes out of people, stole time in self destruction, stared into the holes of another’s deceit. I’m not modern enough to be a true angst-filled American poet. I don’t possess the tongue to squeeze lemon over my open lesions letting them ooze into a glass I pour out as charity for the masses. Come, let me sacrifice hopelessness for the voyeurs. No, I only know to write of the way his lips taste the soft worlds within my seascape, the slant of patchwork light filtering through the hallway window, jewel-toned shells that satiate my harlequin heart. I only know of simple subjects; I’ve somehow been denied the stench or overlooked the cracked places harboring broken bottles and blood-stained lips. Does that make me any less a poet, I wonder.

upon reading Bukowski//

Rhapsodyinblue45

4.8.18

Have you ever heard the story of the glowing planet?

Some thought that it was a wandering star with gigantic craters, that revealed the light at its innermost core.

Others assumed that its shell had cracked and searing lava was making its way across the surface; always flowing, always glowing.

There were scientists that hypothesised about burning gas pits or bioluminesent monsters roaming the planet’s rocky exterior.  

And then there were the poets and the dreamers, who pondered that maybe, just maybe, the planet was at the middle of its own infinitesimal galaxy, drawing in tiny stars and gathering their beauty in fiery clusters.

                               ＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

But only some of the bravest explorers, brazen enough to get too close, could ever ascertain the truth behind the sparkling planet.

Could see that for all the assumptions of bioluminescence it wasn’t the indwelling creatures that lightened up the vast darkness surrounding them, but that they had caught the lights;

perhaps the radiant sunlight of their solar system itself or maybe the electric currents crackling in their atmosphere.

The explorers bemoaned that these creatures might never know the beauty that their masterpiece had gifted to the universe.

But when the speckled lights reflected in the many eyes of the species passing through the void, the younglings excitedly pointing to the shapes they thought to see in them, or a lost ship was able to resume its route because of this landmark, they knew, the galaxy was richer for it.

      - A love letter to Planet Earth

Frida Kahlo and Chavela Vargas

I might be confused sometimes in my head but it is not something you need to talk about. Before you can talk you have to line it all up in order and I had rather just let it swirl around until I am too tired to think.

Kaye Gibbons (via quotemadness)

When will you realize that you and I belong together

We may be toxic for one another but living another day with you is painful

The pain eats me away day by day

The moons calls to me at night, reflecting all our memories

The frosty cold night breeze prickles through my skin, reminding me of our romantic walks by the park and how you kissed me breathlessly as if I was your oxygen

“i like every person i meet. for like 17 days. after that either they expect too much or give too little. expectations and expectations and some more. it’s not like they like me indefinitely. shall i put in the effort and emotion to get to know them beyond their superficial layers and see the love and the hurt and the humanity in them when they are just going to stop caring about my existence perhaps at day 67 or 172? Shall i pacify the devil inside them when it will laugh at my attempts when they walk away at day 213? shall i? or shall i just shut up and go to sleep.”

—