#atlasconsiderations Tumblr posts

  • Just like how I can’t forget those love songs

    I’ll never forget you or the love you gave me

    They tell me to forget you and to just move on

    But I can’t, it’s fucking impossible

    How can I?

    You’re everywhere!

    The words you gave me

    Live in my heart forever

    The visions float around the hallways

    Echoing from each locker

    The visions of how we used to be

    I see them everywhere

    Laughing and dancing

    Where we went

    Showing the world

    That love can indeed be

    Something oh so beautiful

    Pure

    And delicate

    Weren’t we something special

    But now that I’ve lost you

    To something so cruel

    It breaks my heart

    Knowing that I’ll see you again

    But it won’t really be you……

    I lost you

    And what can I do about it

    Nothing but just say

    Yes she was my best friend

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  • The shattered parts of me

    mean nothing anymore.

    Like broken glass, I’m useless

    and only a damage to everything I touch in the right way.

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  • I walk in my mind’s shadows

    chasing tomorrows

    still haunted by yesterdays

    and come what mays

    you asked for honesty

    but never believed me

    searching among the stars

    but all you found was my scars

    always ignoring my words

    that you never heard

    whether said

    or read

    taking only the preconceptions

    presumed assumptions

    in your head

    until I’m dead

    but what use is honesty

    if you want me to confirm to simplicity

    denying the complexity

    of my personality

    you call out my duplicity

    but aren’t we are all the same you see

    trying to conform

    to the mundane and norm

    abiding by rules

    made by fools

    a societal morality

    built on religions’ vanity

    preaching their moral supremacy

    but no better than you or me

    and we wear the nine to five lanyards

    to meet their standards

    but what am I

    if I don’t please your eye?

    always trying superficially to conform

    to the accepted norm

    as daily I wrestle with myself

    deceiving everyone else

    but in you I believe

    no need to deceive

    my truth was your goal

    so I opened up my soul

    but I don’t think it was to your liking

    maybe a little bit frightening

    yet you were the one who asked

    what lies at the bottom of my glass

    the truth was your insistence

    but now you keep your distance

    I bared my all

    to be at your beck and call

    hoping you’d be my saviour

    but it seems you didn’t like my flavour

    maybe my past has a bitter taste

    all those things I did in haste

    but memories can’t go to waste

    and my regrets

    you can’t forget

    but at the end of the day

    you wanted the truth come what may

    and though my yesterdays you can’t stand

    our tomorrow is always in the palm of your hand

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  • don’t talk to me

    all oblique and obtuse

    each word an excuse

    masking the clarity


    don’t talk to me

    of things now past

    promises never last

    there is no honesty


    don’t talk to me

    expressing your desires

    all those raging fires

    I feel only jealousy


    don’t talk to me

    sharing your feelings

    they leave me reeling

    yet you can’t see


    don’t talk to me

    between the lines

    of your miserable rhymes

    can’t stand your poetry


    don’t talk to me

    keeping up the pretence

    I prefer your silence

    so just leave me be

    #poets on tumblr #writerscreed#poetryportal#poem#atlasconsiderations #poets of tumblr #original poetry #excerpt from a book i'll never write
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  • Scars of Time

    Do you ever get wounded

    from a painful memory of the past?

    Do you ever bleed

    from a moment not meant to last?

    Have you awakened to a place

    you wish you had not gone to?

    Realizing you are alone

    with no one to say hello to.


    Light and darkness spirals all around -

    like they want to eat you whole;

    with a beguiling treachery brewing,

    that you could not protect your soul.

    The fallacy of the broken-heart

    is that it heals over time;

    it is a cruel deception of the mind

    of which love commits the crime.

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  • Wonders


    There was a child that went forth every day

    And the first object he’d look upon, that object he became

    And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day

    Or the many years of stretching cycles of years


    From the glossy rays of light that became part of the child’s eyes

    And the sweet smell of mother’s homemade cookies

    And the smoothing voices that echoed through his life

    These beautiful memories were the thing he became


    Beautiful love, and constant kindness engulfed his soul

    Cherry trees and fern bushes along the cobblestone road

    Life was born around him everywhere

    Every day, he vowed to never forget these moments


    His beautiful bubbled world surrounded him every single day

    Rooting his heart in this place that he loved so much

    The leaves sprouted out as he was ready to glow bright

    The leaves and branches were ready to leave, but the roots stayed planted


    He was ready to take off into this brave new world

    With His mothers sweet and gentle words

    And his fathers strong but kind words

    Prepared him to look for the light oasis in the dark world


    Desperately he looked for this oasis

    But the path of light never came to be

    Everywhere he went, the daisy flowers wilted

    And the fresh life he never saw, instead it died


    Printed paper fresh from the press

    Stained blood red ink from the ballpoint pens

    The cries of the broken people that were left for dead

    These were the objects that he ultimately became


    His happiness rushes out of his mindless soul

    As his kindness meant nothing to the hurting people

    His mothers compassionate words meant nothing to him

    For he became cruel and evil to the hurting ones


    His willpower ran to the bottom of his body

    For his strength to the darkness of greed was weak

    His fathers strong words meant nothing to him

    For he defended the greed of the world forever


    Dark shadows, rain, and a hurricane flurried throughout the air

    No amount of light seemed to be left in his life

    One day he would see the beauty again

    For he wanted to truly build a beautiful home in this world


    Love dangled in front of his eyes as he saw her

    Hazel eyes, sunny hair, and full of life reminded him of what he truly wanted in his life

    She was the light that he ever so needed again

    Caressing every single soulless part in his life


    The young delighted cackle echoing through his ears

    To the crisp smell of the hickory trees

    And rushing water that was clearer than the bright blue eyes

    These were the people he started to become


    Her hazel eyes guided him to the cobblestone path

    Her young bright laughing cackle brought his tears to constant joy

    And the young striking blue eyes reminded him that light would always be around him

    For this was the life he always wanted


    Through the constant life of wonders, joy, and pain

    These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes, and will always go forth every day

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  • A good time to write, so horny you might explode.

    Sex is an act of creation and maybe

    By creating a poem I can somewhat make

    More tangible.

    Personifying. Like singing from with in. Singed like hair.

    Bullseye in your eye. Third eye.

    Piercing.

    Carrying around a dying fruit.

    A dying joke.

    A boyfriend, but you want

    Out.

    Im sorta flat myself. Dont mind your flat chest. Your smile is always.

    My mom’s talking but not saying.

    She’s drunk but she’s a mom.

    Why am I the one telling you how to take care of a new born son. Don’t you know. You already had;

    Pretty vulnerable. Exposed. Lavender. Tie die. Detail oriented. Eyes. Judging. Not judging.

    I couldn’t find the right word.

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  • Strange Magic

    The way you dance

    through dark and velvet sky

    sends an invitation for all

    who can identify -

    the magic that you hold

    over this land so mundane;

    that wondrous sight

    only you can attain.


    Amidst your borrow light,

    an image of you is what they see -

    mysterious and magical

    with a surreal mix of divinity.

    The ocean follows you

    it moves with the rhythm of your dance;

    Distant lovers look up to you

    for a sign that their love still has a chance.


    What strange magic you have

    that in your phases you express;

    What strange magic you have,

    but a magic so beautiful nonetheless.

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  • Adoration of Eloquence

    My heart beats to a familiar melody,

    Like a memory playing a record in the archive of time.

    In the midnight music of your symphony,

    Where stars collide through the glorious rhyme.


    I spin lyrics from the music that I hear -

    Looking towards the Heavens where words come to play.

    As darkness surrounds me and the sound of midnight draws near,

    The harmony guides me to you, not leading me astray.


    I will love you with the music I listen through the night,

    Present in my thoughts when I imagine your countenance.

    Silent but as enduring as the radiant moonlight,

    Inspiring me to an adoration of eloquence.

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  • Don’t JUST dream…

    Don’t love when you’re lonely.

    Don’t speak when your angry

    Don’t give away what you need…

    But share when you can

    Love when you are ready

    Let anger pass through you

    And never be afraid to bring to life

    What your dreams

    bring to you in your sleep.


    -Devine Theory

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  • And i feel like giving up

    Its never enough

    So cold

    This fight for my soul

    Is getting old

    About to fold

    Its like 30 degrees below

    And im tired of getting fucked….

    And not in the good way

    Ice cubes forming in my glass

    Sick of feelin what im feeling

    Tired of feeling like I’m the villain

    Wishing today was a good day

    Police behind me in the whip

    With 90 on the dash

    Deciding if I

    should live or die

    New writings on my pad

    Of all the shit I should say.

    Leaving my body for protection

    On an astral projection crash

    Shes infected my imagination

    Tragic lack of obsession

    Sliding in a backwards

    direction fast

    Fatally attracted to my methods

    Now traveling on separate paths

    Barely escaping

    the reaper of death

    Battling a savage

    and reckless past

    I can’t get settled

    the pressures bad

    disqualified

    Hollowed inside

    Chasing the

    checkered flag….


    - Devine Theory

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  • Until It Sleeps

    She found him alone

    Burned to ash…

    Smoldering smoking &

    Broke from her wrath.

    Tried to rekindle the flame

    that was choked by his past

    Started to provoke things inside

    he hoped wouldn’t last…

    3rd eye Mind activation

    by blind exacerbation…

    I need time and space but

    im lacking patience

    Retracted attacked by

    Arrogant calculations

    It hides in me

    Inside of me

    My savage creation

    Go ‘head

    try and save him

    While you lie to my face

    Die in my place

    Or face

    Massive implications…

    All these defense mechanisms

    And trap doors…

    ….And act-ors

    with misplaced hate

    And attempts to manipulate

    Until I overreact or

    Learn how to act or

    Escape thru the back door

    With your 5th grade taste

    And your bitch made ways

    And

    then they say

    they want to get to know me?

    With anticipation

    That quickly turns

    to dismay

    While all my issues

    and misuse

    At baggage claim waits

    Funny it always seems

    to end this way

    Catastrophe blasphemy

    Has to be erased

    Glad to see it atrophy

    It had to be faced

    This love

    Fists cuffed

    Now its dragging me away

    Cant give up

    This drug

    Now shes asking me to stay

    Vulnerable and naked

    Unsure imma make it

    Shes backing me away

    Police about to break in

    Yet im sad to see it break?

    Insanity calamity

    Damning me to sin

    Why try

    I cant lie

    I would do it all again…


    -Devine Theory

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  • We All Suffer

    Don’t worry dear

    I have those too

    There is no need to fear

    I know what you’ve been through

    Tears, blood, sweat and fear

    Took form in place of a scar

    But remember someone’s here

    And you are never what someone says you are

    Take my hand and look at them

    They see them and they pity me

    But I make my scars into a beautiful poem

    We will all find our ways to be free

    Beautiful, you are never alone

    You will always be known

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  • Luna and I first met at bar. Dark wood, low ceiling, and the music was all do loud and given it was a karaoke bar, off key as well. She was with her husband, but he was too busy making out with a handsome, young college student with a well-trimmed beard to introduce himself to me.  

    “We’re in an open relationship.” She told me. “It’s all the rage right now.”

    “I’m single.” I returned, “it’s the other rage.”

    She smiled. “What’s your name?”

    “Hobbs.” I said extending my long-fingered hand into her tiny one. “Professor Hobbs.”

    And that’s really all I remember about our conversations. Sometimes we talked about books and sometimes we even talked about writing, since she fancied herself a writer too, but mostly she just talked about wanting to write rather than anything that she ever actually wrote. What I do remember is her hair, it was short and dyed purple. She herself was also short and plump, though I never minded. I remember that her eyes were glazed with compassion when she was boozed up. I remember that she would make me lunch and leave it in the fridge, since I often never cooked for myself.

    That first night we met she bought me a couple drinks, and I accepted them. Then she invited me home, which I also accepted. Her husband wasn’t there when we arrived. He had been invited to the young college student’s home. We removed our jackets and had a couple more drinks. Her shelves were lined with an assortment of things I had never seen. For starters, she had several jars of blue liquid and floating in the liquid were the most realistic looking prop human hands I had ever seen. “I make them for Halloween shops,” she told me. “Out of wax.” It was cold, our fingers were stiff from smoking cigarettes out on the porch so we took a shower. She was incredibly giving. Her hands and kisses placed in a way that can only be done by someone who sees the invisible scars of another. This process repeated itself a couple times, until it felt like were dating. Sort of.

    A couple months passed, and I met Rori. We sat apart from one another on the train. She was reading Alternative Diplomacy; a story about a locomotive that flies through space, trading hours and minutes for cash, and occasionally must fight off love-maddened pirates. The pages her copy were worn, and the spine was split and wrinkled like the hands of an old beggar. Her hair was wild and untamed. She was thin and lanky and taller than me.

    “How do you like the book?” I asked.

    “I love it, this is my third time reading it actually. I’ve tried to find another book that could make me laugh and cry so hard, but none have been able to fill the hole that this one left, so I continue to return to it.”

    “It’s one of my absolute favorites. Have you read her other works? Fail Better is pretty good, her techniques have improved over the years, but she doesn’t quite grip your heart the same way.”

    “Always a shame. It seems that most authors can only bottle lightening once.”

    “Not true. A number of great authors can master the storm. Take Nom Geo for example, each one of his books is as good as the last.”

    “Yes, but have any of them stabbed your heart the way this one has?”

    I thought about it for a moment but could not find an answer before she had to exit the train. She smiled at me, that sunshine smile, and left. I was bitterly cold as I journeyed home, until the next day when I found her sitting in the same spot reading Fail Better. We kept meeting on the train, eventually exchanging books and reading them in a single night so that we may share our thoughts the next day. Then we exchanged numbers.

    The third girl I ended up dating was someone I had already loved. Always loved. Always there, despite leaving for months, sometimes years, at a time. Never too far nor to near. She’d leave herself in places. In the corners of store clerk’s eyes or in the movies we had watched together. She scratched her finger nails on my writing desk enough times that it left marks that bleed into everything I ever have and will write. But mostly she was in my dreams. Always in my dreams, peeking her head in and pressing against me with her small body and insecurities with equal trust and fear, before slipping away into the cloud of the oncoming nonsense that deep sleep brings. Lost behind old teachers, old friends, old events and musicals and movies and books and childhood games. I’d push them all aside and try to move past them, but they intoxicated me like good liquor until I forgot what time it was and would wake up.

    One night, in a particularly smoky and red dream, I saw her there and she did not flee. She sat patiently with me, in a leather booth, as hazy faces and shapes passed us by and when I woke up she was there with me. In my bed. I cried. She kissed my tears.

    This, as you might imagine, could not go on for very long. Eventually one woman will find out, and then another, and then another until it all comes crashing down. Despite that, I managed to keep everything balanced for a good while and strangely enough I was happy with the circumstances. Mostly happy.

    Luna was the first to find out.

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  • Ragged Edges

    Delicate light

    Shimmering fragile rainbow

    Harmonious cacophony of color

    Falling together, falling apart

    Shattered prism, fat drops falling

    A cold drenching rain

    Takes you back to reality

    After your sojourn in the clouds.


    after Mary Lattimore

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  • Me and Ben were playing video games. I can’t remember which one. A shooter. We were on a team, playing against another team online, when Ben spoke up.

    “You’re not covering me.”

    “I am covering you.”

    “You cover Liz way better.”

    “Liz is way better than you.”

    “Fuck you.”

    I smiled. And I started thinking about Liz. She was better than Ben.

    The vibe changed. It was like he knew I was thinking about her. We both started playing worse. I started focusing on shooting too much despite being the medic and he kept running out from cover. I knew it was going to come up.

    “Do you like Liz?”

    I threw a throwing knife into an enemy as they turned the corner, and took a long time to reload, checking the dead player for a better weapon.

    “Yeah I do.”

    He dodged a grenade and threw one back, scoring a double kill.

    “She likes you too.”

    “I’m sorry.”

    “What the hell are you sorry for?”

    “I don’t know.”

    “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s a part of life. You didn’t do anything.”

    “Yeah but you don’t like it.”

    He didn’t say any more, just went onto kill three more men, and then our team won.

    We played a couple more rounds in silence. Then he went home. In bed, I thought about Liz. And Ben. Nothing ever came of it. Ben moved to Italy for school. Liz moved to New York. I played that videogame all summer, no teammates, just me.

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  • Evil has Blue Eyes

    Behind crystal blue eyes,

    there is shielded an evil.

    It lurks hidden, away from the world.

    No one knows there’s darkness inside.

    //

    Debauchery masquerades as youth;

    Devastation with a sunny smile.

    Lies easily off the tongue become truth.

    Innocence and trust are vaporized.

    //

    A sibling’s bond shattered completely.

    Unspoken terror wreaks havoc.

    Her blank slate-scribbles of pain.

    No one can interpret-not even her

    //

    Emotions dulled and locked away safe

    From her heart’s delicate tissue.

    She protects herself from his harm,

    Yet it still destroys her quietly.

    //

    He is something, but brother not.

    Steadfast protector-nowhere near.

    He resembles family, but she knows better.

    Evil has blue eyes.

    ©Delia Thorne/TB May 15/19

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  • i.                     Marble slate of your neck, carved curved, crescent moon like. See it wax and wane in time with your breaths and wish to defile it.

    ii.                   Those hands, damson stained across the knuckles where you lost your temper. Like jam spread on toast.

    iii.                 Your hips an ocean wave, a mountain range- why do I see nature in the way your body moves?

    iv.                 The back of your knee, lily petal white and just as delicate. I press a kiss. I don’t want there to be a part of you my lips haven’t grazed.

    v.                   Eyes like two jewel chips set in porcelain, sharp edges cut me through. Clean, like a knife.

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  • Gravitate to You

    (I can’t leave this undone.)

    Your voice leaves me breathless

    You make love to me with your words

    My passion only awakens to you

    You are the dream I wish to come true

    The way you love is music

    A tune that resonates in my soul

    Your melody fuels a longing ardor

    A sweet sound that is hard to ignore

    The way you are is a book

    An enthralling story to read

    In every chapter you have so much to give

    The magic of your pages holds me captive

    How you make love with your words

    To me is nothing but a mystery

    It always keeps me in your orbit

    It keeps me wishing you are mine in secret

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