#POEM: Real Estate

[i-didnt-want-salmon-i-said-it-4x]

I stare at a screen and wouldn't dare type a word because I swore to myself I wouldn't write about an experience so meaningless, at least in your eyes, again. Shit like this comes naturally to me I love hard and I love deep. I love you so much I respect you letting go. Cheers.

#spilled words #spilled thoughts #poetry on tumblr #poetry #wnq writers #falling in love #poets on tumblr #you broke my heart #commercial real estate brokers #broken heart #heartbreak #breakup #heartache #numb #spilled ink #poems and poetry

[6peaches]

Richard Siken - Real Estate

My mother married a man who divorced her for money. Phyllis, he would say, If you don’t stop buying jewelry, I will have to divorce you to keep us out of the poorhouse. When he said this, she would stub out a cigarette, mutter something under her breath. Eventually, he was forced to divorce her. Then, he died. Then she did. The man was not my father. My father was buried down the road, in a box his other son selected, the ashes of his third wife in a brass urn that he will hold in the crook of his arm forever. At the reception, after his funeral, I got mean on four cups of Lime Sherbet Punch. When the man who was not my father divorced my mother, I stopped being related to him. These things are complicated, says the Talmud. When he died, I couldn’t prove it. I couldn’t get a death certificate. These things are complicated, says the Health Department. Their names remain on the deed to the house. It isn’t haunted, it’s owned by ghosts. When I die, I will come in fast and low. I will stick the landing. There will be no confusion. The dead will make room for me.

- Real Estate by Richard Siken

#poem #poet #Richard Siken #Real Estate

[nulfaga]

Megan Fox shoulderblade tattoo except it says "O PROLONG NOW THE SORROW IF THAT IS ALL THERE IS TO PROLONG"

#hm. you might need more real estate or a smaller font #anyway ive been thinking of that donald justice poem nonstop #i might have impulsively gotten this exact tat if i had money this past month

[tediousdelusion]

my love of boats usually keeps me away from aus but there's something about an ofmd green knight au that bedevils me.

stede as gawain, the naive knight who takes on an adventure that might end in his death just because he can't stand the mundanity any longer, who is haunted by his own brief violent impulse

ed as the green knight / the lord of the castle, this semi mythic figure running around and playing these deadly games out of boredom.

the crew as various people stede meets along the way. jim as the mysterious archer on their own quest. oluwande as a former squire now looking for more. frenchie as a troubadour and lucius as a an aspiring court poet...

#ofmd #our flag means death #i feel like wee john and the swede could get a real shakespeare gravedigger vibe going on #the dark comic relief #black pete is constantly telling everyone about how he really did squire for maleagant #to fit the poem atructure izzy gets to be lady of the estate alongside ed #stedes final obstacle #but it could also end in throuple vibes for all you fellow freaks out there

[kirthanasastry]

Many brutal wars have been fought

To become this soft

A lot of god’s given light 

Has been used to heal other broken hearts

Turned into water

Unafraid to touch open wounds

Not expecting the same favor in return

But a small beg to not be scared

While I mend yours

#poetry #writersofinstagram #poetrycommunity #deepthoughts #poem #poetrygram #deepquotes #literature #commercial real estate brokers #you broke my heart #heart been broke so many times

[lilithapocalypse]

como llegue aqui?.

derrame amor, aferrandome al miedo.

me enrollas.

las luces apagadas, pero estas en la cama.

el tiempo se mueve lento cuando estas en casa.

ahora me muevo lenta, en camara lenta.

se que no lo pedi.

pense que era inmune a eso.

y ahora estoy jodida.

y si caigo?.

me gusta tambien.

en mis venas estas corriendo.

y ahora estoy jodida.

atormentada por la forma en que quitas el dolor.

en la forma en que te mueves.

estoy descontrolada.

y podria decir que me gusta.

tu enciendes mi fuego.

y ahora estoy jodida.

te llame por telefono.

las luces apagadas, pero estas en la cama.

el tiempo se mueve lento cuando estas en casa.

ahora me muevo lenta, en camara lenta.

se que no lo pedi.

pense que era inmune a eso.

y ahora estoy jodida.

atormentada en la forma en que quitas el dolor.

en la forma en que te mueves.

Ele.

#my edit #emociones #real estate #escribir #escritos #escritura #lo que escribo #depressing shit #dia a dia #borderline personality disorder #decepcion #dolor #amor y dolor #desahogo #desamor #día a día #notas de amor #sad poem #sad but true #sensaciones #salud #sentimientos #frases sad #lo que siento #citas #sufrimiento #cosas que pasan #cosas que pienso #corazon roto #critical role

[murraylobb]

If you're engaged in a real estate dispute, you'll need an experienced real estate litigation lawyer in Houston to represent your interests. At Murray Lobb Attorneys, we have years of experience handling all types of real estate disputes, from boundary disputes and title issues to construction defects and homeowner association problems. Our goal is to make sure that every real estate transaction goes smoothly and seamlessly.

#real estate litigation lawyer #construction law #lawyer #Houston #experienced attorneys #Murray Lobb Attorneys #1950s #pastel #pink #plushies #poem #poets on tumblr #poems on tumblr #poesia #real estate

[web-real-estate]

Price : 1.0088.235 $

CLOSE TO ÇAMLIKYOL

GARDEN , WITH DETACHED POOL

HALF A TWIN, DUPLEX VILLA

- 400m² LAND SHARE

- 200m² USAGE AREA

- LIVING ROOM

- ADA BUILT-IN KITCHEN

(FRANKE DISHWASHER, COOKER, OVEN, HOOD, MICROWAVE, SIEMENS DOUBLE DOOR REFRIGERATOR )

- ALSO PANEL / WAREHOUSE / STORAGE SECTION IN THE KITCHEN

- 4 BEDROOM (1 ON THE LOWER FLOOR)

- 4 BATHROOMS (ALL ROOMS ON THE UPPER FLOOR AND ALL WITH BATHROOM + LOWER FLOOR)

- CLOTHING SECTION

- UPPER FLOOR LAUNDRY ROOM

- MITSUBISHI INVERTER AIR CONDITIONER IN HALL AND ALL ROOMS

- SMART HOME AUTOMATION SYSTEM

- ALARM SYSTEM

- ELECTRIC SHUTTERS

- VIDEO DIAFONE (IN LOWER FLOOR AND UPPER FLOOR)

- ARTESIAN

-GARDEN

-DUPLEX VILLA

#norway #filland #holland #austria #america #real estate #house #home #villa #turkey #populer #netherland #poem #poetry #sport #netfilix

[taohun]

EVERYONE PAUSE POEM OF THE DAY TODAY IS REAL ESTATE

[p-clodius-pulcher]

Imagine being Clodius and this twink poet who is insanely hung up over your sister writes a poem calling you a pretty boy (derogatory), bringing up the incest rumours with said sister, implying the prostitution rumours, throwing shade on your real estate practices, calling you an oral sex enjoyer, and then also somehow saying you have no bitches.

In less than 30 words.

Where do you even go from there. Like the appian way I guess

#I have read so many articles on Catullus 79 and every one of them interprets it as something else so I’ve just listed everything :) #mags babs #category 7 pcp moment

[llovelymoonn]

favourite poems of october

alfred starr a dark dreambox of another kind: the poems of alfred starr: "didn't you ever search for another star?

stephen spender new collected poems: "auden's funeral"

marianne boruch keats is coughing

noa micaela fields zoeglossia: poem of the week, may 17, 2021: "echolalia"

kevin young diptych

richard siken real estate

crisosto apache kúghą/home

mikko harvey for m

nathan hoks nests in air: "the barbed wire nest"

john a. holmes noon waking

crisosto apache 37 common characterisi(x)s of a displaced indian with a learning disability

oliver de la paz requiem for the orchard: "at the time of my birth"

zhang xun jiangnan song (tr. bijaan noormohamed)

paul violi fracas: "extenuating circumstances"

tianru wang after "yellow crane tower"

lloyd schwartz cairo traffic: "nostalgia (the lake at night)"

kamiko han the narrow road to the interior: "the orient"

rigoberto gonzalez unpeopled eden: "unpeopled eden"

adelaide crapsey verse: "to the dead in the graveyard underneath my window"

chester kallman night music

alan shapiro covenant: "covenant"

tom clark light and shade: new and selected poems: "radio"

tc tolbert my melissa,

charlie smith in praise of regret

carolyn kizer cool, calm, and collected: poems 1960-2000: "fanny"

julie sheehan orient point: "hate poem"

arthur sze the redshifting web: poems 1970-1998: "streamers"

joumana altallal everything here...in the voice of tara fares

abid b al-abras last simile

w.s. merwin to lingering regrets

george scarbrough music

shout me a coffee

#tbr list #poems #poetry #poetry list #poem list #poet #poets #alfred starr #a dark dreambox of another kind #didn't you ever search for another star? #stephen spender #new collected poems #auden's funeral #marianne boruch #keats is coughing #noa micaela fields #echolalia #zoeglossia #oliver de la paz #requiem for the orchard #at the time of my birth #paul violi #fracas #extenuating circumstances #lloyd schwartz #cairo traffic #nostalgia (the lake at night) #rigoberto gonzalez #unpeopled eden #tom clark

[kvothes]

hi hope you're doing well!! where can i read the new richard siken poems?

i gotchu. in the past few weeks, he has published four; i’ll link each one here:

cover story

driveway

heart valve

gun case

finally, this one has been out for longer, but i do believe is part of the same project:

real estate

#richard siken #poetry #ask

[firstfullmoon]

can you elaborate a bit on the “everything that led” siken to publish dead boyfriend poem? i read it (and it gutted me) and have read crush but i’m kinda out of the loop? dead boyfriend poem caught me so off guard

hi ! he suffered a stroke a few years ago (2019 iirc) & almost forgot everything & his upcoming collection (titled I Do Know Some Things) is composed of prose poems about what he can remember about his life - including the dead boyfriend poem & all the other poems out since after his stroke (the first one was real estate). it’s completely autobiographical which makes it devastating especially because he has always taken a stance against explaining his poems / talking about his life so people would understand (ugh) his poetry (if you’ve seen the email he sent a student who had asked him so, he wrote it made him wish the stroke had killed him) - and now he’s doing just that because it’s the only way he can interact with his past. so yeah. it’s all so devastating

[cryingtulips]

c!Wilbur in postmortal by Khio, a c!crimeboys fic about grief

Credits below:

postmortal, ch 1 (1-3) // Tianyi Zhou // nightferns // Fortesa Latifi // Vicente Aleixandre, Sound of the War; A Longing for the Light: Selected Poems // WolfyTheWitch, Forget Me Not // WolfyTheWitch, I heard there was a special place. // unknown // artisanalgarbage // Sophocles, Antigone (2, 4) // qtiq, your tommy // postmortal, ch 2 (3, 5-6, 8, 10-11) // hivemindscape // Pixabay // Anne Louis Girodet-Trioson, Burial of Atala // DSMP // Sue Zhao, I loved you in all the ways that I could // you are my sunshine // Jack Stauber’s Micropop, Just Take My Wallet // Cyborg Blood, By Your Hand // Albert Baertsoen, Snow in the Afternoon (Snow-Covered Village) // Ricky Montgomery, Snow // Tomo, Oh Love // everbloominggarden // Ludvík Barták, Winter Forest // Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid // Holly Warburton (x, x) // Adam Melchor, Real Estate // Keaton Henson, You (11, 14) // DSMP // Jean-Paul Sartre // postmortal, ch 3 (12-13, 15) // idalus // copepods // Casey Horner // funkygraveyards // Natalie Díaz, American Arithmetic; Postcolonial Love Poem // Franz Holper, Winter Landscape near Davos // postmortal, ch 4 (15-18) // iriskasosiska // unknown // qtiq // Jamie Anderson // Knp, Good Grief // Reinaeiry, Immortal

#dream smp #dsmp #c!wilbur #dsmp wilbur #c!crimeboys #dsmp crimeboys #crimeboys #dsmp web weaving #dsmp web weave #web weaving #web weave #cryingtulips.weaves #dsmp fanfic #fanfic #fic: postmortal #hoping tumblr doesn't absolutely ruin the quality of the panels

[humansofnewyork]

(12/54) “She was brave in many ways. But there were three things that Mitra feared most: darkness, silence, and being alone. In Germany we’d take long walks through the countryside. Mitra couldn’t stand the quiet. She’d recite entire poems back-to-back-to-back. At the time she’d gotten into modern poetry. Her favorite poet was a young woman named Forough Farrokzhad. Mitra had many of her poems memorized. Farrokzhad was a modern poet. She wrote in free verse. She wrote from a feminine perspective. And she wrote about everything, including sex. By the time we finished Shahnameh I think I’d destroyed Mitra’s interest in the book. The book’s longest section is the historical section. Here the heroic nature of the prose fades. There are no more dragons. No more Rostam and Gordafarid. Here Ferdowsi writes about real people. He must stick to what is known. You can’t turn a real person into a mythic hero. That summer I took a road trip home to Iran. The Shah had just announced his White Revolution. It was a sweeping campaign of reform. Women were given the right to vote. Factory workers gained a share in profits. Agricultural estates were seized and redistributed to the sharecroppers who worked the fields. With a single stroke of his pen, the Shah gave more freedom to millions of Iranians. But not everyone supported it. When I arrived in Tehran the city was in chaos. Several buildings on my street were in flames. A cleric named Khomeini had come out against The White Revolution, and he’d ordered his followers to riot. Khomeini practiced a different kind of Islam. This was not the Islam of our fathers. This was not the Islam of the Persian Mystics. This was an Islam of cutting off hands, death for nonbelievers, and oppression of women. We thought these things were demons from our history. Monsters buried far in our past. But there’s a parable in 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪, where Rumi writes about a dragon frozen in a block of ice. The dragon seems to be dead. So the people place him on a cart and wheel him into the center of the city. They’ll soon discover that he’s still alive. He was only sleeping, waiting for things to heat up.”

 میترا در بسیاری کارها بی‌باک بود ولی از سه چیز می‌ترسید: تاریکی، سکوت و تنهایی. در آلمان به پیاده‌روی‌های طولانی پیرامون شهر می‌رفتیم. میترا تحمل خاموشی را نداشت. پی در پی شعرهایی را به طور کامل می‌خواند. در آن هنگام شاعر دلخواه او فروغ فرخزاد بود. فرخزاد شاعری نوگرا بود. او شاعر سبک نو بود. شعرهای او دیدگاه‌های زنانه داشتند. در هر زمینه‌ای می‌نوشت، حتا سکس. قشر مذهبی جامعه، او را زنی هرزه می‌خواند. میترا بسیاری از شعرهای او را به یاد سپرده بود. یک سال طول کشید تا شاهنامه را با هم خواندیم. هنگامی که خواندن را به پایان رساندیم، فکر می‌کنم از دلبستگی‌اش به شاهنامه کاسته بودم. بلندترین بخش کتاب بخش تاریخی آن است. در اینجا، سرشت حماسی سخن کم‌رنگ می‌شود. دیگر خبری از افسون و جادو نیست. از اژدها. از رستم و گردآفرید. در این بخش، فردوسی درباره‌ی انسان‌های واقعی می‌نویسد. هنگام نوشتن تاریخ باید به واقعیت‌ها پایبند بود. نمی‌توان شخصی عادی را به پهلوانی اسطوره‌ای تبدیل کرد. درآن تابستان، سفری زمینی به ایران داشتم. شاه به تازگی انقلاب سفید را اعلام کرده بود. یک کارزار فراگیر اصلاحات بود. زمین‌های کشاورزی زمین‌داران بزرگ به بهایی اندک به کشاورزانی که روی آن کار می‌کردند داده می‌شد. زنان از حق رأی برخوردار می‌شدند. سهمی از سود کا��خانه‌ها به کارگران می‌رسید. در یک رفراندم به میلیون‌ها ایرانی آزادی بیشتری رسید. اما همه از آن پشتیبانی نمی‌کردند. هنگامی که به تهران رسیدم، چندین ساختمان را آتش زده بودند. یک روحانی به نام خمینی علیه انقلاب سفید قیام کرده و به پیروانش دستور شورش داده بود. خمینی به گونه‌ی دیگری از اسلام باور داشت. این اسلام پدران ما نبود. این اسلام عارفان ایرانی نبود. این اسلام بریدن دست‌ها و کشتن آزادی‌خواهان و ستمگری علیه زنان بود. اینها را اهریمنانی برخاسته از تاریخ‌مان می‌پنداشتیم. دیوهایی که در سال‌های دور به خاک سپرده بودیم. مولانا حکایتی در مثنوی دارد که در آن اژدهایی در تکه یخی منجمد شده است. گویی که مُرده است. از این‌ رو، مردم آن را بر ارابه‌ای نهاده و به مرکز شهر می‌برند. ولی بزودی در می‌یابند که اژدها هنوز زنده است. تنها در خواب بوده است و در آرزوی گرما. مرده بود و زنده گشت او از شگفت / اژدها بر خویش جنبیدن گرفت

[fyodorloveclub]

read to me?

anon: "Ummm Dazai making you read poetry or some shit while he fucks you into the mattress- only letting you stop when you can't even form sentences anymore"

notes: this was an anon request from my old blog that i decided to finally write!! the poem is one of my favs, "a primer for the small weird loves" by richard siken. it doesn't have any significance to the fic i just like the poem. i highlighted the actual poetry to make it less confusing :). i didn't feel like editing this sorry besties enjoy ✧˖° ♡

18+ minors dni!!

song: touch tank by quinnie

“’So you say you want a deathbed scene, the knowledge that comes before knowledge, and you-’ holy fuck!” you moaned, one hand in Dazai’s hair while the other grips the book you held so tightly the pages creased.

“Keep going,” Dazai commanded, words muffled by your thighs. You whined, breath ragged, but did as you were told.

“’-and you want it dirty. And no one can ever f-f-‘ FUCK. ‘-figure out what you want-‘” your words were cut off by an involuntary gasp as Dazai swirled his tongue around your clit.

☆☆☆

This mess started about twenty minutes prior, when you and your boyfriend had been sitting quietly on the couch together, doing your own separate things. It was a lazy Saturday evening, the two of you relishing in having absolutely nothing to do. His head was in your lap as he watched a movie, while you read. He purred softly as you played with his hair, scratching his scalp. But soon he got bored, as Dazai does, and flips onto his back so he can look up at you.

“I’m bored,” he announced.

“That’s very unfortunate,” you replied, not taking your eyes off the book in front of you.

“What are you reading?”

“A book.”

Dazai whined, bringing his hand up to bat at the book.

“Hey!” You scoffed, as you lifted it above his head to get it out of his reach.

Dazai just whined even louder, pulling at your shirt like a little kid.

“My love, could you please entertain yourself without bothering me?”

You rolled your eyes as he kicked the air, doing anything he could to make you pay attention to him.

“Is your book more important than me, your handsome sexy boyfriend?” he pouted.

“Yes.”

He gasped dramatically at this and pretended to start crying. You groaned before finally looking away from the book, then hit him on the head with it. He oofed but laughed.

“Okay, asshole, you got my attention. What now?” You rolled your eyes so hard it was almost audible.

“Will you read to me?” he asked with a stupid grin on his face.

“Will you stop being annoying if I do?”

He nodded vigorously. You sighed before picking the book back up, reciting the poem you had been reading when he decided to start being a monster.

“’The man on top of you is teaching you how to hate, see you as a piece of real estate, just another fallow field lying underneath him like a sacrifice.’”

As you read the poem out loud, Dazai flipped himself over so he was laying on his stomach, and began pressing soft kisses to your thighs.

“What are you doing?” you asked with an accusatory voice, cutting yourself off mid-sentence.

“Just keep reading.”

You just sighed before continuing. Whatever, you thought.

“’He’s turning you back into a table so he doesn’t have to eat off the floor, so he can get comfortable, pr-‘ hey!”

Dazai had moved up to your inner thighs, biting at the soft skin. He continued to do this as he started to tug down your shorts and panties.

“Will you read to me while I eat you out?” Your eyes went wide at this, clearly confused. “You reciting poetry is a major turn on.”

You chuckled but agreed, not immune to Dazai’s stupid charm.

“’-pressing against you until he fits, until he’s made a place for himself…’”

You read on as he pulled your shorts off and licked your outer lips, making you shudder. He pushed your legs apart for better access, using his fingers to spread you open. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him just staring at your pussy almost in awe. The man truly worshipped everything about you.

“’The clock ticks from five to six…’”

He dove in headfirst, immediately shoving his tongue inside your hole, making you yelp. He tongue fucked you slowly, making it agonizing. It was embarrassing just how fast he could make you melt. He licked your walls hungrily, treating your pussy like it was dessert.

“'It isn’t over yet, it’s just begun…’”

He pulled his tongue out of you and licked a fat stripe up all the way to your clit and began sucking on it, sending shockwaves through your body. You paused reading briefly to throw your head back and groan. He lifted his head up to look at you, his mouth and cheeks already dripping wet from the mix of his saliva and your juices.

“Did I say you could stop?” he prompted, voice low. You weren’t sure when he transitioned from normal Dazai to horny bossy Dazai, but you were turned on.

“’Says to himself the boy’s no good. The boy’s just no good…’”

And that is how you arrived at the current scenario.

As he focused on sucking and nipping at your clit, he slipped in two fingers and began pumping them in and out of you. You hissed loudly, clenching around his fingers. He chuckled before adding a third finger and picking up the pace. No matter how many times you did it, there was just no other feeling like Dazai’s mouth and hands being on you at the same time. You could feel the motion of him rutting his hardening cock against the couch cushion, chasing the friction.

He used his free hand to spread apart your lips even wider so he could get his entire mouth over your swollen clit, using his tongue to better massage the hypersensitive area. You yanked on his hair as you cried out, squeezing your eyes shut. He knew your body like the back of his hand, and he sure as hell showed it.

“’But he takes you in his arms and pushes your flesh around…’”

Just as you were going to mention your approaching orgasm, Dazai pulled his mouth off of you. Before you could even look at him sideways, he was hovering over you, his own pants pulled off, and thrusted into you hard.

You screamed at the sudden fullness, tensing tightly around his throbbing cock. This pulled a loud moan from the man as he draped himself over you, crashing your lips together. He was rocking into you with increasing force, bottoming out with each thrust. You wrapped your legs around his back to anchor yourself.

At this point you had forgotten about the book, though it was still stuck in your grip, but Dazai hadn’t.

“You keep reading until I say you can stop reading,” he growled.

He somehow had you in a trance as he fucked into you, giving in to his weird requests.

“’You, the now familiar boy, but you’re beautiful-‘”

“You are fucking beautiful,” Dazai interrupted, ducking his head down to bite at your neck. Your mind reeled as you felt his teeth graze against your skin, imagining the purple and blue that would likely arise the next day.

He stuck his hand up your shirt to knead the soft fat of your breast, squeezing hard before rolling your hard nipple in between his fingers.

“So fucking beautiful.”

The book fell out of your hand as he used his free hand and reposition your leg to get a better angle, fucking right into the spot he knew was right there. Your screams drowned out the sound of the book clattering to the floor.

Dazai seemed to think that you whimpering over his cock was an acceptable replacement for no longer reciting poetry, so he left you alone.

You clumsily ripped his shirt off his body so you could feel his bare skin. Wrapping your now free arms around him, you dug your nails into the meat of his shoulders as your senses were overwhelmed by the man currently inside you.

“Osamu!” you cried, eyes squeezed shut.

“Hey, angel,” he replied with a wicked smirk on his face. Your head fell back onto the coach arm with a thud.

He continued to fuck into you with a quick rhythm as he shoved two fingers in your mouth, instructing you to suck on them. You obviously listened.

He began using his now wet fingers to massage your already very overstimulated clit, and it was only seconds before you reached your orgasm, screaming his name as he pressed kisses along your jaw. Not quite there yet himself, you laid there like a ragdoll as he thrusted into you, chasing his own high. He rocked in and out with such force you knew your pelvis would be bruised. But there was nothing like visible evidence of a really, really good fuck.

He slowed down as he came but continued to fuck his cum deep inside of you, the head of his cock grazing your cervix.

He fell on top of you, both of you breathless, sweaty messes. You lifted his head up with your hands to press a kiss to his forehead, making him smile.

“Guess I should read you poetry more often.”

#dazai smut #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs smut #dazai x reader #sealed with a kiss ♡ #flora’s fics