Aceitei com Eufemismo Cada Vontade Tua
Desencorpar as alterações feitas a garganta
Dançar para cravos, dna para cavalos
O mundo é um extenso baú de imagens
Adivinhar o risco de naufrágios
Capturar âncoras como se fossem bandeiras
Não me sentencie ao teu case hospital-açougue
Me desafie antes que seja memória fresca
Não me afogue em rios de festim
Desate minhas pernas do desastre
Cada faquir de segunda mãos
Eram os palácios de cupins
Atraídos pelo cheiro de nostalgia
Atropelar vozes que não escorrem
Nomes e insetos cerrados entre os vãos
Que os dentes suspiram
A língua é uma adaga que desconstrói o delírio
Deduza amarras, respire o mistério
Teu milênio é uma condição imprópria
Premeditar máculas em fragmentos
As fases da lua derretem pelos teus olhos
Você não está livre da culpa
Cada derrota é um pigmento
Transmutando teu lar em um circo
Cada a desamor é um labirinto de compulsões
Um conjunto de esfinges traça histórias
Eu imploro para que pernas desabrochem
E cada músculo sofra com o sintoma
De não pertencer ao balé conveniente
Ter casamenteiras lambendo suas feridas
A gira descompensa toda a fama
Desmentir cortes profundos
Com sorrisos e póstumas serpentinas
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Don’t apologize for your writing
I’ve seen so many Tumblr profiles on here, where writers describe themselves, and then their writing-but then they say: “it’s not that good”, or “it’s garbage”, or that it’s just “writing that’s all over the place”. They are apologizing in their profiles for what they think is their terrible writing.
But if they didn’t like their writing, why post it?
Because there is someone out there that will read it, and like it. Someone could find it a beautiful piece, or well written, or just plain intriguing. Or maybe a part of the writing could inspire someone, a word, a phrase, etc. I could find a few writing pieces by others I didn’t particularly like and point out a spot that stood out to me.
The point is, everyone has experienced bad writing days, or bad writing projects they weren’t happy with. Just please, don’t apologize. You can point out which parts need work, which parts you aren’t happy with, but never be sorry for your writing.
Writing is a part of me. My writing is unique to me. I think that apologizing for writing is like apologizing for being who you are, because who you are shows up in the way you write.
I personally struggle with this problem of apologizing for my writing. But I think it is important to realize that nobody is going to read anything like we’ve written, because nobody else is like us. Our writing is unique. So don’t ever apologize!
Please reblog so we can help assure writers that their work is always appreciated!
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She's breaking all her rules for you, even the ones she never knew she had
A little push and pull, a little poor impulse control, you're the best she's never had
Feelings she hasn't felt like this before, even ones she swears she's never had
Now you're something she's craving, something she needs to have but hasn't had
She's something different and something dangerous, all the things you crave all wrapped up in one
Thinking about all of the beautiful and dirty things she says, never forgetting even one
She's making you insatiable, intoxicated and now you need a hit of her, and you know you need more than one
K.a.s
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Abject failure
Breaking faith with myself
Day
After day
Sins laid bare
On a cross I constructed
Thorns of regret pierce my scalp
Bleeding shamefully onto the floor
It was I who hammered the nails
I drove them in
Myself
- G.M
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i was writing poems every night
gave them to him in cozy light
and he thanked me with the biggest diss
"Do I really have to read all of this?"
-multasuntcausaebibendi (poem: "i'm too much")
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The older I get
The less I care about material things
My abundance is not external
But rather internal peace I find
And cultivate for myself
Day by day I harvest my garden
Filling it with beautiful flowers
So that no matter how hard they try
No one can take this inner fulfillment
Away from me
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KING
KING
🦋
see you in a million years,
falling back to where
we first met again—
covered in pearly white sheets
with sunstained windows;
starry ceiling with cinnamon laced air
unfinished wine glasses,
and a screen full of laughter.
you held me dear
even if it had just been one night;
a caressing stroke
flushing my cheeks in pink,
reminiscing on good ol days
and locking this one safe
for times not near.
when we part our separate ways
there’s a shooting wonder,
across my eyes to yours
a similar sparkle
wrapping me in halos
like an angel;
reaching out earnest
to a ghost long clear
fated to heaven,
or another cycle
of a million years.
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Eating strawberries in a dream
The last time I saw you
We walked around a farmer's market
In a dream
It was dark and I wanted strawberries
I smelled the cartons and
They smelled like nothing
But you picked up the biggest ones
Apple sized strawberries
And tasted them there in the market
You took big bites out of several
Like
"This is how you can tell if strawberries are good or not.
You have to bite them, you have to taste them."
I don't know how the strawberries tasted
To you, in my dream
But you looked like you enjoyed them
And I enjoyed that
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‘my mother liked scribbling leaves whenever she was on the phone and I think it meant something’
by huda (roaming remnants)
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Insanity
He very nearly loved me
I said love me always
I wanted him to love me
She said come back to me
She wanted him to stay safe
Inside the insanity of his other life
He very nearly loved me
Nearly threw away the key
Locked inside the insanity with me
But he didn’t love me
Kept the key for his sanity
Left me locked inside
My insanity of life without him
Walked away and threw away the key
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Cavalos Inadequados
Pertencer a uma memória desbotada
Derrotada pelo tempo, desbota imagens
Convence desejos em rostos únicos
E espera embargos com orgulhos
As mãos incapazes de redimir
Uma carta cifrada em enigmas
A eufórica intenção agride o peito
Como se dançasse dentro de fogueiras
Cada um dos anseios fere meu confessionário
Escavam-no atrás do meu infortúnio
Ainda há dúvidas, ainda há o silêncio
E ele preservará acima de qualquer maculação
Serpentes escorrem de beijos
Qualquer moinho me venda
Importunando a potência
Estou aos teus desastres
Foste o barro que borrou cada fio do meu caminho
Enquanto moldava para ti toda a devoção que me adoece
Primordial: Você pulará de tuas entranhas ao pó
Vertiginosamente amargara o buraco que deixastes
Jamais derreteria em tua pele
Uma fábula de pílulas de naftalina
Toda uma oratória que perfila a água
Mas corrói como sol sob uma artéria
Como um despertar, tua luz me atravessa
Percebo os vultos anis me despindo
Me conquistando, me difamando
Até chegar aos teus pés completamente esguio
Enquanto olhamos moedas
As moedas nos olham de volta
Confabulando sua crença em nossos tendões
Argumentando que toda a objetificação é o triunfo contra o tempo...
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thoughts after 10 pm
life is heavy company
find the corner where you won't be disturbed and find solace in your water glass
with the tipping of water you can pause this earth
look, nothing matters
the floor is wet but it will dry
so much possibility if you stare through the bottom long enough
it ripples, changes shape
you can avoid the shadows or splintering light this way, a clap on the hand
dull it through the glass
wait for your guest to be shown the door and finally
disappear off down in the dusk
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Forest; or Stranded . . #forest #ego #stranded #id #poem #poetsofinstagram #instagrampoetry #poems #poemsofinstagram #instapoetry #writer #writersofinstagram #poetrylovers #write #read #poetry #poetrycommunity #poetryisnotdead #poetryofinstagram #poetryporn #poetryofig #poetrygram #poetrysociety #poetrylovers #poetrycommunityofinstagram #poetryisart #poetrylover #PoetryOfTheDay #poetrybyme #poetrylife #poetrydaily
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K.a.s
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Cherub Arrows
You win me over,
smiles galore.
A wash of colour,
nothing I’ve seen
I’m playing in-between
the shine.
We skip stones
along this cascading wave,
thoughts combine,
there’s more you feed me
than I’d been anticipating.
Last looks before dreams,
bed time and tucking between
the seams we’re sowing together -
and if my nightly chaos
tries to dig at me,
you’ll still cradle the little boy in me
enough to claim victory...
Nothing’s perfect,
but we’re skirting the edges
of profundity in motion -
so I’ll pledge a devotional song
in your direction.
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From the roots of my heart
embedded in my whole mind
nameless love echoes on
up to the stars
choirs to the symphony of your eyes
lulling this sadness to oblivion
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