#atlasconsiderations Tumblr posts

  • I just want to sit in front of the ocean staring at the sky, with cold breeze knocking on my face and waves crashing against my feet.

    ~shore

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  • “In an empty winter night, I have forever longed for the warmth of your soul.”

    ~cold mess

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  • I’m learning that I don’t have to hate the people who hurt me.

    The bridges don’t have to burn, I just don’t have to cross them again

    You go your way and I’ll go mine.

    This way I hopefully don’t internalise the pain.

    - J

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  • “He wished that she had the courage to reply and she wished he had the patience to listen. And, Both waited for a very long time.”

    ~misunderstandings

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  • I wish I could fix it.

    I wish I could stop.

    I wish I could make me number 1 in your mind before the split.

    I wish I could switch my mind off like a prop.

    #atlasconsiderations#poetry #poets on tumblr #poetselixir#spilled ink#my post#poem #dead poets society #poetic #poemas de amor #my poem #new poets society #poets corner#poetsandwriters #poetas en tumblr #poetscommunity
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  • I’m so fucking miserable at this moment.

    I’ve never hated myself so much and

    I wish so much that I wasn’t the way that I am.

    I’m a fucking mess and I’m starting to think I

    should do everyone a favor and wipe it clean.

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  • What we actually ask for

    It is the times like this

    When I crave words,

    More than I have ever craved food

    When I was hungry.


    It is the times like this

    When I can’t focus on another

    Untill I unleash

    The building hurricane of emotions.


    It is the times like this,

    That divert my attention back,

    To the things they has to say

    To us girls

    The questions-

    - why did you go out that late?

    - why did you send that kind of photo in the first place?

    -why did you wear a dress like that?

    -why did you put on a lipstick that red?

    And then the speculations,

    -you asked for it.

    Like saying a murderer is going to murder. It is your fault that you were roaming around in open, with your throat that was waiting to be slit by a knife.


    I don’t know whom to blame,

    We are taught so well that our safety is our concern.

    But why this ’safety’ has to be something to be co concerned about?

    Why this ’safety’ has to be something to worry about?

    Why this ’safety’ is so cherished and feared?

    Why this ’safety’ envokes fears and terrors?

    We know the answers.

    Someone needs protection, when threats exists.


    Yet, I don’t know whom to blame,

    The parenting, education, the society-

    All the biased rules to its name.


    The teenagers, one of whom gave up his life,

    The social media, where the virtual mob- lynching took its flight,

    Or the threats they made- ‘we will leak those pictures.’


    Someone lost his life,

    And I cannot decide who is to blame,

    'Attention seeker’ they call her for stepping up the game,

    What if the pictures were actually leaked,

    And it was the girl, who had to die?


    Again, I am sorry

    I can’t make a point,

    It’s difficult to decide,

    Which wing to join,

    But I do know,

    Today when I cry,

    I won’t be alone

    Somewhere, someone

    Will have teary eyes.

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  • I fear she has drifted

    out of this galaxy…

    and can no longer be defined

    by the laws of my Universe.

    Like fire

    getting too close

    Can get you hurt.

    Watching her is poetry in motion

    like desire

    The devine truth at work.

    I am forced to watch

    her free spirit wander

    growing restless in her storm

    her winds appear stronger

    The fear blows away

    the loyalty

    the honor….

    Un-phased

    so lets uncage the monster

    rage, conquer

    after all….

    anger is fears armour

    and im just a sheep

    too meek for the slaughter.

    No longer

    atomically disected

    savagely protected

    mad but magically majestic

    but in an instant she…

    convinces me…

    That I’m the exception.

    Blind but somehow

    I seem to find my direction

    solar systems collide

    she belongs to noone

    devine essence

    heavens design

    dime breathless

    She looks at me

    as if Im breakfast

    I can’t stop it now

    nothing really matters

    not the blessing

    the lesson

    the obsession

    the questions

    the stress

    the pressure

    her lack of effort

    towards an active confession

    without lashing out

    in an act of aggression

    dripping colorless toxicity

    into my soul

    I have long since

    lost all control

    end of session….


    - Devine Theory

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  • I have never understood

    the beauty of the unexpected

    until I met you.

    That different look in your eyes -

    a blend of inherent gentleness

    with the right amount of grit.

    It has made me abandon my norm,

    ignore a number of my preferences

    and love the mystery of the unknown.


    I have kept my heart safe,

    but the risk of your temptation,

    it was so hard to break.

    In that moment, I knew -

    you will never leave me in this lifetime

    and the next.

    Because I know I will never stop searching,

    I will never stop searching

    for my beautiful opposite that is you.

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  • “I’ve had enough, I don’t want to live anymore!!”

    “I don’t understand why he has to leave. Am I not enough?”

    She has lived with these voices in her head. There was a time when she thought she was crazy because she could not silence these voices. She knew these weren’t hers. These were voices of people – hurting, lonely, and suffering. Most of all, these were voices that no one else can hear but her.

    Overtime, she knew. She cannot ignore them. So she chose to reach out to them. Such is the beauty and curse of an empath.

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  • I don’t know about you…

    …But I process best with a loud stereo…

    …Music that means something to me

    …and a bottle of liquor…

    …As God intended


    Go Irish


    - Devine Theory

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  • Woah



    wondering how we

    got so far apart

    scarred heart

    navigating my way

    thru the dark arts

    die young

    fast life

    90 on the dash

    attempting to get past

    my past life

    I’ve been falling apart

    writing it down

    all in the dark

    hoping to bring my soul

    back to the light….

    Im tired

    to tired to fight

    Tired of the secrets

    that people keep in life

    motivated to find the meaning

    but too wired to

    sleep at night

    trying to avoid

    the fact that theres a void

    deep in me

    recently deceased

    used think that she

    could bring me

    back to life

    feeling paranoid

    afraid of what Im gonna

    have to sacrifice

    to have a happy life

    like there’s a choice

    sacry noises

    and demons

    threaten my dreams

    obstacles

    to block my path

    hoping to bring back

    my psychopathic

    appetite

    falling apart

    laughing

    while speeding towards

    the afterlife

    running out of gas

    on fumes

    confused by the

    lack of facts

    and back to back

    savage acts

    wishing she knew

    she didn’t have to lie

    so much passion

    with your attractive ass

    so much baggage

    tragic if our actions

    and lack of compassion

    fail to bring magic

    back tonight

    if I cant have him

    nobody can have him

    when will I learn

    am I a villain

    if I burn it all down

    and leave town

    if your down

    you bring the gas

    I got a match to light


    - Devine Theory

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  • So what if it hurts

    For you to leave me

    So what if it hurts

    More than stubbing your toe

    More than hitting a wall

    More than knocking into a door

    More than walking into a knife

    And a hell of a lot more than dying

    is supposed to be

    So what?

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  • you never said any words

    but everything I still heard

    there were no vowels spoken

    just vows silently broken

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  • “hope”

    .

    and I’ve had my fill

    of the bitterness pill

    simply makes me ill

    yet I take it still

    .

    as the pain still grows

    from the heavy blows

    of I told you so’s

    that everyone knows

    .

    and now just I choke

    on words I never wrote

    and those you spoke

    as your heart broke

    .

    all those dead-ringers

    turned to harbingers

    nothing good ever lingers

    just slips through my fingers

    .

    but hey lads hey

    still to the Gods I pray

    hoping that I just may

    live to die another day

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  • There was a time when she felt so little,

    As distant as the stars lost in the night skies.

    In her heart were sorrows that refused to settle,

    Hidden by tears that did not fall from her eyes.


    It was her who chose the battle -

    A fight she took all on her own.

    And when she felt it was too much to handle,

    She convinced herself she was all alone.


    The tears she cried that did not spill,

    The silent echo of her scream,

    All the while she was standing still,

    And refused to wake up from her horrible dream.


    Trapped in the darkness of her mind,

    Imprisoned by the pain she tried to hide,

    To living in loneliness she was resigned,

    That neither love nor compassion can cast aside.

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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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  • 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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