Poem called blank pages
Poem called blank pages
There’s no proper way to go through endings, looking for an appropriate way to end things defeats the purpose of ending things, it’s chaos, don’t try to shape chaos into something that pleases your narrative, let it get ugly. All the ill flavored endings make way for magnificent beginnings.
Hej živote, hej ljubavi
Hej ti, kojoj dosad nisam pisao
Ne jer nisam želio
Nego jer sam upašen bio
Svaka moja pjesma
Nije nikom ništa bila
Samo hladna riječ i sjećanje
Petrarkina ljubav neuzvraćena
Hej ti, koja si oduvjek pored mene
I kad si daleko i kad se kriješ
Po ulicama grada tamnim
Ti, čiju kosu volim milovati
Čije tijelo volim grliti
Hej živote, hej ljubavi
A memory I’ve been cherishing like i wanted to cling to it forever, thinking about letting it go made me impatient looking for something resembling the thought, something similar to the idea of a sweet demise , something painted in the colors of hope, when looked closely it has to be grief.
I’m individually entitled to the thoughts i hold dear to my stupidity, and saying them out loud gives me a sense of strength that in doing something else i could never find, so if you ever stop me from decorating the shattered corners and holes of my heart in a pattern that soothes every sight, you have defeated me.
THIS ONE WAS READ ON THE STREAM TOO!! I was really happy with the direction I took the piece in, and absolutely ecstatic that Benji was able to read it and seemed to agree :D Here’s the link!! My story is read at 17:20.
They thought they’d find something alive out here. It was half-mad; they knew—or maybe all the way. A city or kingdom might be nice. Dust and disappointment sent their greetings.
Even now their ship had been reduced to debris by a single speck of something.
Lance and Pete had survived too. But Pete’s oxygen was low from the start, and Lance had…tried not to panic. Alya remained; a lone traveler in an indifferent universe, floating endlessly in the dark.
It wasn’t so bad. She saw more of this callous, gorgeous universe in her lifetime than most would in ten. It wasn’t such a terrible way to go—suffocated by the stars.
Floating in a vacuum wasn’t something one could stop—untethered souls doomed to fly until oxygen spilled away—yet something took her hand, doing just that.
She shrieked, looking around wildly—
—And wonder overshadowed panic.
“Antes de meus olhos de jabuticaba adormecerem, minha mãe, contava-me histórias sobre um cavalinho Rick que me levaria todos os dias para a escola. Eu amava ouvir aquilo, antes das ovelhas virem e levarem-me, relembrava a garota em meio а classe.“
A menina aparentemente estava animada. Ela sentada em uma cama com coloração de vermelhas maçãs, organizava seus cadernos, lápis, borracha… e principalmente o que mais amava: o famoso estojo, era sua maior paixão. Tinha tal amor por cores. De certa forma, amava tudo que era arte.
Sete e meia: uma velhinha de cabelos acinzentados, e olhos de mar se aproximava da bela adormecida. Aquela batalha seria bem difícil, ou até mesmo, impossível. Felizmente aquela senhora não estara a lutar sozinha. Soldados gentis se aproximavam. E a garotinha foi retirada de seus aposentos. Ela se locomovia em seus pequenos pés. Um tipo de marcha medieval era feito pelos corredores, com toda certeza não estava muito feliz .
“O arroz de minha vó sempre fora muito salgado. Eu como uma criança, muito educada, não falava nada, apenas admirava minha saia de tecido grosso e de estrutura maleável. Eu andava, andava, andava e realmente não parava de andar. Que povo apressado!” Pensava olhos de jabuticaba.
Já sentada em sua carteira, retirava seus materiaisde forma rápida. Sua aula favorita já iria começar. A nova tia se chamava Lurdes. Sorria de forma deslumbrante e o feijão exaltava a tonalização de seus dentes amarelados, por isso toda sala ria.
Um longo dia de aula. Apenas boas recordaçõees passavam em sua breve cabecinha de vento. Dentro da casca já havia comodidade a pequena jabuticaba.
If you’re not having fun while writing about something you love, it doesn’t hurt to take a break. To step away for a little bit, breath, get some food, have a nap and come back when you feel better.
You should WANT to go back to what you were writing. Not make it feel like a chore or a punishment. I’m speaking from experience.
Even though I just write fanfiction in my spare time, I do sometimes get overwhelmed and end up not liking what I’ve written and that’s ok.
If you’re not feeling it. It’s OK. Distance yourself for a little bit and come back when you’re ready.
You should be having as much fun writing as much as your audience does reading.
My Foolish One
You were a foolish one.
How your mind works,
I don’t know how it’s done.
Crashing into my life,
Like that was natural.
Day and night, you stuck like glue.
Well those times weren’t dull.
We both were so silly,
And, yes, it was fun.
Pain and trouble,
We knew there wouldn’t be none.
But you told me it would be fine,
And together we can.
Hey, I love you.
There couldn’t be any other one.
„We’re so sad, all my friends and I
There’s too much going on
I wish the world would end
But it keeps going on
Think that we should keep it”
Small-town boy in a big arcade
In defense of H.P. Lovecraft
People are fucked in the head, from what I’ve understood. Like, fucked beyond repair. The liberals, most of all. I myself am a huge liberal but I call out shit where I see it for that is the job of a journalist, a writer, an unprejudiced historian, a blogger, whatchamacallit.
Now, what with Lovecraft Country becoming a somewhat of a famous show, people are digging into one of the greatest horror…
i’ve been really quiet recently (sorry!) but i’m starting a new WIP (a short story) even though i don’t have the time, yay!
working title: Jetlag
A plane is departing for a town of metaphorical “happiness” (town names tbd, i need to find ones that are subtle but still make sense). Two strangers both want to board this plane for their own reasons. One of them is running late, gets held up by security, encounters other obstacles within the airport, and eventually misses the plane. The other has a schedule organized to the minute and exceptionally dry humor.
The story that follows details what happens to both of them in their pursuits for personal happiness on this symbolic vacation.
main themes: “happiness”, identity, individual struggles/circumstances
mostly, i want to dismantle an ingrained perception of “constant happiness”; we all have bad days. we all “travel” between happy, sad, and everything in between.
the tag for this is jetlag. let me know if you’d like to be added to a taglist :)
i don’t know how often i’ll post about this, but please let me know if you have any thoughts!
i can’t remember
who i am supposed to be
where do i go now?
The secret quiet smile
Of the predatory wind.
Reflection of the chill
In padded lips that sinned.
Waxy cheeks of sallow dolls,
Tallow bellies, filled with dust;
A haunt in glassy pupils,
An empty head of curls;
Icy whispers in the doorway
Of a future now unfurled.
“I’m trying to trust you but every other thing that comes out of your mouth is so goddamn ominous.”
Ally rolled her eyes, “Again, that’s the curse.”
“Ok, sure,” He agreed, “but you understand how that makes it hard to trust you, right?”
She fixed him with a look, “You understand that we do not control our own destinies, we only shape other’s?”
Danny threw his hands up in the air. “See! That’s my point exactly!”
Ally mimicked his actions irritably, “Cursed! I am! Cursed!”
“Are you… are you two done?”
They turned back to their mentor, who had apparently returned from his quick scout ahead at some point while they were arguing.
“Sorry, sir.” They both mumbled out and he raised an eyebrow in response, it was quite obvious that he didn’t actually believe that they were at all sorry but pursuing their line of argument was an exhausting task he didn’t actually want to follow.
Danny spluttered indignantly for a moment, “why do I have to apologise?”
“For making fun of her curse.”
“I wasn’t making fun!” He objected, looking back at Ally as if she was going to back him up in any way. Ally just raised an eyebrow in the same way that their mentor had, in the same way that he still couldn’t do and drove him insane sometimes.
“You were kind of making fun.”
“I just said it’s hard to trust someone who says such ominous things.”
“Omens were once used to understand the future, perhaps you should remember that.”
Danny turned back to their mentor, almost pleading, “She sounds like she’s threatening me.”
“Maybe you deserve it.” Ally muttered sullenly.
“Children,” their mentor sighed, “please.”
They both rolled their eyes but picked up their bags and prepared themselves to follow him through a potentially dangerous situation. He took the lead, leaving them to struggle after him.
“Got any omens for our future?” Danny asked, not mocking for once.
Ally shook her head, “Never until it’s too late.”
Danny held out a hand to help her out of the ditch they had been hiding in. “At least we’ll all have the same amount of warning.”
“Sometimes a warning only serves to panic.”
Based on the prompt in bold by @givethispromptatry
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Bucket list. Someone come do these with me
Go to Garden of the Gods, do photography and take in the world
Learn another language
Visit Madeira (again)
Travel around the world with a friend and do photoshoots everywhere
Go to the eiffel tower
Live like Kasie
Get out of debt (almost!)
Learn the truth
Live with less stuff in the house, and gaining control over finances
Find a best friend
What are yours?