silverspoonfedbraggart

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

Animals

If I’m an animal I’ve lost my own scent

Human intervention in my natural habitat

Altered things beyond recognition

My pharamones are foreign to me

And I’m not sure it’s compatible with my nose

Let alone with the mate I’ve built a den for

Downy bed of a past epochs tinder and fossils

Where I’ll wake up in the dead of winter

Eyes closed and nose twitching towards the entrance

Where my past will be standing for a moment

before being blown away

Along with the flakes

Individuals I’ll never get to know

Before they’re buried under layers of snow

#transgender #angst #poetry #queer #animals

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

i don’t think sex on tv is appropriate unless you see the cock otherwise it’s manipulating the viewer and basically gaslighting the audience

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

You’d be surprised

How often the world

Begs you to look

Closer, see more.

Secret doors and

Faux skies

Ordinary life

Has never quite

Been what meets the eye

#blehyhh im on a walk sue me #poetry

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

I’m doing nothing

Bc humming birds also love

Sitting with their hammering heartbeat

#poetry #inspired by birds on my walk

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

poems about Laika (the soviet space dog)

i’ve been hunting for one in specific, and during my quest, i have seen that very many beautiful poems about this creature have been written. I wanted to compile them.

“first dog in space” by brennig davies / “They say that, from space, the Earth looks like a small, blue ball. I’ll throw it for you, Laika, if you’ll chase it, dart through the stratosphere like a comet, undeserving of its fate.”

“laika” by claire williamson / “for three hours she was weightless, pulse racing, but ate her dinner, alive to see an orbital sunrise.”

“laika” by adnana zeljkovic / “Paddling with her soft paws in inimical vacuum, (nothing to draw you to your bosom like Mother Earth’s gravitation) herself soft snowflake,”

“laika” by paul gerard reed / “The stars that shone have all gone out as man betrayed your trust, but your spirit is still in place somewhere, out there in space.”

“laika” by dave lewis / “But when you gave me that final kiss on the nose I suppose deep down inside I knew my destiny lay among the stars. Alone, in silence, I watched the world spinning round, one thousand miles below.“

“i remember laika” by jan oskar hansen / “The farewell can’t be delayed a boy has run to the outer field sits on a stone tries not to cry the struggle to accept the unavoidable.”

“muttnik” by tumblr user @fateology / “I don’t mind. I just miss you. I miss you like the space that lies between two breaths. Full to burning.”

“for the first dog in space” by lavinia greenlaw / “Laika, do not let yourself be fooled by the absolute stillness that comes only with not knowing how fast you are going. As you fall in orbit around the earth, remember your language. Listen to star dust. Trust your fear.”

“laika” by sarah doyle / “Brave little cosmonaut, caught and collared, Earth no more than a distant ball with which you cannot play.”

“laika” by adrian sobol / “If there is light, it’s pressing down on you. Something stirs inside it.”

“first the dog” by zbigniew herbert / “awkwardly we bump into stars / we see nothing we hear nothing / we beat with our fists on the dark ether / on all the wavelengths is a whining”

you are welcome to add more poems to this post if you have any in mind to recommend.

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

Source details and larger version.

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

grime

i like the way you sing, like liquid gold flowing down a dense block of black marble, treading light, almost whispered, like you’re afraid you’d pierce the silence in a cathedral, and the echoes might overwhelm the one you’re serenading. in your hands you hold tenderly, a heart still beating, calmly, regularly. your eyes wet, gaze resolute. singing quietly, on and on.

V. 2020.

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

Morning Call

Birds play telephone. A forest wakes up ringing. The sun does stretches.

- Majid Evan Jamaleldine

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

Do you ever take a moment to just

See how the world dances

Droplets on a window

Look they're racing down

Lights twinkling in the distance

They're reflected on the moving water below

Flags waving in the wind

And feathered friends flying around

Don't you ever just

Stop to see how the world dances around you

The whish of the tires of a car driving by

The billows of clouds where smoke leaves a building

The slow descent of a leaf from branch to ground

And little birds chirping

Take a moment and look

Even the most mundane moment is filled with so much life

Those lights in the distance

That car you can hear

The smoke off on the horizon

All of that is just background noise

The moment for you to be, this moment is all yours

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

If you sit super still during the summer solstice you’ll see a thousand flocks take flight into the dusty sky It will sound like a humming caught in the throat It will feel like a needle strumming It will vibrate everything & just when you think you do not deserve such beauty —you’ll grow wings

— Yesenia Montilla, from "A Poem with Birds in It," Muse Found in a Colonized Body

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

Mummy

I have let so many scarab beetles in

I have watched them crawl under my skin

Mummified and motionless

Shapes shift

As they writhe beneath the surface.

Their intrusion came without me noticing

I thought their gripping, digging feet

Were the love bites i thought I’d earned

blades of grass brushing my shaved legs,

Before I cultivated hair as a line of defense.

My mother can stand and weep

Over an empty grave with my headstone

I won’t return to the womb

I’m not ready to sleep.

Since excavations began

I’ve gotten the urge to purge

to take the bronze knife

used to gut me

to carve them out

And banish my own curse

Vile plume cast out

A plague unto others

to cleanse and

So i stop feeling so queasy

#poetry

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

Spinster Cluster

New Pythia, say names that have gone dormant in the minds and tales of men.

“Resurrectionist,” “male midwives” names whispered in kitchens and around hearths,

"Call him a general? Why, he's a women like miself!"

I am the oracle with a backstrapped loom, Arachnea.

“Dear mother, for the love of God, try and do something to promote me.”

And, please don’t throw away anything I leave in my sentimental cobwebs.

“By this time I dare say you have experienced the wisdom or folly,-”

My scraps don’t deserve the exile that you pass,

“-resulting from your substituting a musquet for a goosequill.”

You, who weaves True History. After the victory, that left me hanging,

“Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori,”

Athena, you creep into my room, in its vacancy, retell that same tired bedtime story of me

“How very dear to me, my good name is,-”

Tomes of the past without their pages cut show me more truth than mentor’s tongue

“-and how very anxious I am to make every human effort in order to avert-”

Follow the parade of a fey peacock and white stag through the woods

“-the heavy calamities consequent to the loss of it.”

Think of many with no one on their side, how their ghosts now keep me company

“Honi soit qui mal y pense”

Who did not have enough space to fill with their true shape.

“Thy Spirit fled and here thy Ashes lie-”

My family history, Add another pearl on a string, another link in the chainmail,

“-But thy immortal Fame can never die-”

still I temper my lack with restraint. Augment my speech with your quotes

“-This tomb indeed will hide thy human fame,-”

Audacious to claim that you write history, how to chronicle one ephemerally queer

“-But after, Ages will tell Barry’s name.”

They survived, so can i, and if i do it will be easier for the next in line

"Do not consider whether what I say is a young man speaking,-”

More allies, more references back in history to substantiate rewriting me.

“-but whether my discussion with you is that of a man of understanding."

James inherit the artist’s eye, supplimented with His story, Richard finally speak-

“I remain my, Dear Mother, your unfortunate Son.”

#writing #poetry #queer #transgender #James Miranda Barry #history

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

Rural Boys Watch The Apocalypse (rough draft) by Keaton St. James

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

I can’t comprehend

Love when i see it from

The recieving end

#poetry #writing

[silverspoonfedbraggart]

i think of the man alone at the lookout tower, in some forest park watching for smoke on the horizon, and i think of the antarctic scientist alone at the end of the world, studying icy cores of ancient snow. and i think they understand each one’s loneliness, despite their opposing elements, a man ruled by fire and another ruled by ice. i think maybe they’d love each other, if either could ever abandon their post, or run away both straight toward the middle. i thought of them three years ago and tried to write about it, some comparison to be made between these men so different. but all i can chisel is this: a man of fire marvels at the bright blue smell of snow. and a man of ice thaws quick at the first lick of orange flame.

pyromania / smell of snow - january prompts @nosebleedclub​