☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ lover of philosophy, poetry, nature, and writings of all ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ ⭒✶ he/she/they ! ✶⭒
85 posts
Latest Posts by theburdenedhearse - Page 3
petition for panic attack breathing videos to NOT have an ad at the beginning please
mother's pretty golden sky
father's sun that turns off each light
in heaven shall the children pry
and seek to find the dimming night.
blackened seashells cross the coast
whitened waves blending sand
unto god, our heavenly host
shall smite each devil in the land.
but carry not, as clouds sow graves
death is not to quarrel with answered prayers
the eternal trail we ourselves have paved
clashes with our forgotten stares.
come one ! come all !
to morrow night we hear the fall
of child a brethren many in may
of mother of florals cries at pray
to the fiery theater where steam is high
while the malicious spirit shall freely fly
unto a moor upon the sea
the spirit in counting travels free.
solitude of the highest fair
may find its pennies here in there
but in the dome of secret plays
withering ignorance may wonder astray.
partly due to uncounted ballots
sneeking in parties of untimely bandits
burglars of short, plump and mellow
yet filled with teacake; a worthy fellow !
"by gathering the sum of their consequences in the domain of their intelligence, by seizing and noting all their aspects, by outling their universe." what the fuck does that mean you philosophical baguette eater
no you don't
peanut
mjp
How carefully Your neck had bled
Pierced so bluntly by a dagger
Stepping back, but how You staggered-
Left me mourning for the dead.
The evening that had left me speechless,
For the only words were tears that shed
And us standing under raindrops
Gave the regret for You I had plead.
And in the rain Your hair had curled-
How I saw Your witful eyes.
And how they stared up at me
Like two subconscious pearls; in disguise.
O ! Your Beauty, how it took me
With unearlthy bound divine
For it came, absorbed my mind-
Desire of the most unholy.
Upon the earth Your chest lay bare,
But laced with clover.
Your seraphic veiled body
I only wished I could uncover.
But how much could You resist me ?
Far too much for one to bear.
Yet only with You could I speak of laurels;
Laurels, dancing in the air.
“Come tomorrow,” You had told me.
“For then we shall drink bread and wine.
Tomorrow we let the the living live
Today we let the dead die.”
And how I waited, with bread and wine
Awaiting Your curly hair, Your witfull eyes
Those pearls that tore away what was wise-
Too much I wished You heard my cries.
Alone in the rain, my eyes a sea
But still; I did as You please-
I let the living take the dead
And let the dead take me.
going back to the field where you once played as a child.
its an earthy, magical feeling,
and yet liminal and lonely.
the grass is tall and thin, untouched by those who frequently trimmed it when you were young.
the tree branches are falling, which reminds you of how taken care of it used to be.
prying through the grass, a million spider webs start to dance upon you-
each one uncontrolled by its owner.
because of your current state, you are unable to decide whether to frantically jump out of the way,
shaken of being attacked by the almost invisible threads-
or to apologize to the spider for destroying its home.
barren patches of dirt lay on the ground,
and the wind feels stronger than it used to be.
though the animals may be around, with birds tweeting and foxes prancing far off in the woods,
you feel alone.
as if all the other children who used to play here have forgotten what it was like to simply be a child.
but yet,
somehow,
for a brief moment-
you recall what it felt like to have no worries.
but when i die
let mine eyes not take a last look
at your beautiful wings
those rosèd locks of hair
all of your- pretty little things
that i could only dream of
and when i fall to the ground
let it not be caused by thy wings
the wings that saved, and picked me up
the ground so sweetly whispering me forth
the wind that caught me, and pulled me up
for lilies in the grass call my name.
are we to dine in the eternal mind
of sacred ingenuity ?
these seats in which our souls entwine
to speak the language of floral fluency?
at a loss, we stare round the bar
frantically at auburn stars
to seek the everlasting love
the love of which cannot undress.
veils of fiery violet craft
keep us from our rising yearn
to source the evil that we learn
in finding us, our homemade raft.
The Reapers Song by HybridDH
Art by ghost_entity
https://x.com/ghosty_entity?s=21
In shadows deep, she walks alone,
A quiet girl with none to own,
A scythe she holds, both sharp and grand,
But gentle is her guiding hand.
Not one for words, she lets things be,
Her eyes speak more than we can see.
No need for crowds, nor praise to claim,
The unknown world is hers to tame.
Beneath the hood, her hair does fall,
She listens close to death’s own call,
Not shy, not fearful of her role,
She guards the passage of the soul.
She steps with grace, her robe so long,
But there’s a sweetness in her song,
The quiet hum that none can hear,
But comforts those who wait in fear.
She doesn’t boast, she doesn’t cry,
She simply lets the moments fly.
Her touch, though cold, is soft and kind,
She brings peace to the troubled mind.
The scythe she wields might seem so grim,
But she’s the one who helps them swim
Through waters dark and shores unknown,
Guiding the lost ones safely home.
And though her job may seem so bleak,
Her heart’s a place where love does speak.
In every soul she helps to go,
She plants a seed for hope to grow.
She loves the quiet, loves the night,
Not one for fame or spotlight bright,
Her cloak’s a comfort, like a friend,
A hidden place until the end.
For in her silence, she has found
A way to help without a sound.
She smiles a smile no one can see,
But in her soul, she’s truly free.
She watches life, she watches death,
Yet feels no sadness, no regret,
For in the end, she knows the truth—
There’s beauty even in lost youth.
So off she goes, with steps so light,
A reaper girl within the night,
Her heart aglow with love so pure,
For every soul, she finds the cure.
In every end, there’s a new start,
A gentle hand, a loving heart,
For though she’s grim, she’s never cold,
She brings new stories to unfold.
acab except for those two funky cops from gravity falls
kinda bored, might blame all my problems on capitalism idk
enough chit chat. whats everyones favorite dinosaur
"jasmine, open your wings !"
unveil your pretty leaves my love
put your childhood to rest
your wings lay off the finest dove
and a crown of the prettiest dress,
with a cowl of golden lace i see
your feathers dripping so free.
such fine pristine garden howls
flying into chains of glass
and with your perfect golden cowl
lacèd, with the finest brass.
moonwater swirling in your hair
rosèd twine of which i could stare
music of love- to the morning play on
so until the sun rises,
i can still hear your song.
awaken in water of pure and fair
dreams of finely pruned fellows
god created, of the smallest affair
until the morning comes
to spoil the night
let us drink to the music
to your heavenly sight.
can give?
can not.
When I die, bury me not on the rocky road
For my lifeless body will be fed to crows
Each bit of skin eaten slowly, day by day
Until all but my bones have been unclothed.
When I die, bury me not on the mountain high
For the finest land will be at my view
The land of which my ancestors grew
And I am not worthy of such a beautiful sky.
When I die, bury me not where the sand meets the water
Where the green grass ceases to grow
For the waves will have me pecked and slaughtered
Until the God above takes away the watery rows.
When I die, bury me not in the trees of sage
As branches reach over my ribcage
Growing vines of spiked long mirth
And nature takes me into its Earth.
man i love redrawn old paintings
Stanford Pines and his brother Stanley
you want me to tell people i love them? the thing that killed basil hallward??
seriously yall if your kids have to share every single opinion that you have society never changes
