October 2011
GALARRITA, MARK: Sounds of furious spoken word →
mikedeltagulf:
My heart riots against my will. Whom I claim to call
discipline.
Crying out for more on a Monday for language in motion.
On this floor stands a lounge transformed into a den
of a would be Bohemia trapped in an urban playground.
Here there are sounds and sights of people who play,
no matter…
graciouswords:
“I love you, not because the ...
Right, Write.: A Love Poem →
rightwritecj:
I am dedicating this poem to the poets who write my shitty emotions, who break my fucking heart, and who drag into plain view the fact that I will not find comfort in the loving touch from a woman in my bed, not tonight and not any night soon. You goddamn poets who can hurt me in this way should…
&: Turn me into poetry →
iamonlytemporary:
Turn me into poetry
You tried to turn me into poetry, Tried to use me as a muse. You draped adjectives around my neck, Documenting my every move And adorning them all with moonlit glitter. The intimate flick of my wrist As I spooned sugar into your hot chocolate, The manoeuvering of my lips As I sipped my black tea.
You tried to transform every detail into art, Writing about...
“I tell you everything that is really nothing, and nothing of what is everything,...”
– Charles C. Finn (via strangeling)
“Books are cold but sure friends.”
– Victor Hugo, Les Miserables (via absurdkulov)
It’s nights like this that just makes it all worth while… so happy! :D
