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Basilica of Notre Dame of Fourvière, Lyon, France

(Taken by myself, 2 June 2024)

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2024.28.01 Les nuages aux yeux je me sors  La paix m’échappe -  Et le bruit? Il cache au noire je m’enfuis, je cours où? Je ne sais jamais - mais J’essaye j’essaye j’y essaye  Le Soleil! ô chère chaleur Mon âme je vous donnerai de baigner sans pensées  sans vœu, sans voie Pourquoi marche-t-on? Vers l’avenir C’est quoi le but sans la verdure Sans le vouloir de mettre les pieds vers le futur  Alors viens! Еmbrassez le sol de nos racines  s’allonger dans le pré de nos passés Le silence auprès  et des oiseaux qui batte leurs ailes agiles connu bien par tous qui poussent - La Terre Comme je vous aime

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l’été en septembre

It's nearly impossible To capture the hazy glow of summer here

And its' microcosm Where time means less Even as it overstays Its' welcome into autumn

To bottle it would be to waste it But to relive it? only as a shadow of what it was

We drink and we dance And we pray and give in As completely as we can It's all we can do

~Mariel 17.09.2023

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To be loved is to be lived with, in quiet and in quaint [poetry prose]

kiss my forehead gently

Rest your hand on my head

I want to breathe the smell of your shirt on my cheek, lay my gaze unto yours

And let the seconds seep into the graces of endless time

satiated and sweet, two lovers in bed

reading books on each others shoulder, and stealing glances in between 

soft black eyes dilating in the dim light

whispering the humble truths of my simple existence

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the prosody of panic

I am no good with words. I’m not! I write so much yet I say so very little. What good are words if they lack meaning? what good is language if not to talk, to reach out - to touch one’s soul with yours? I crave the intimacy of well written prose - where hyphens punctuate each tactful line, and the orthographic outlines so vividly invite sensation to be felt. even now, I say the same things twice; each with merely a shadow of its intent!

You say you do not have the words to write, and when I asked you to reply you told me not to expect much. but me? I only know what is expected of me to say, the taught (& taut?) technicalities of researched machinery. One may talk and talk and yet give nothing into this world. I do not fear that being me, I only hope that though the craft of carved out poetry is yet beyond me, it will eventually at least be seen.

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longing

madness drives us love is love as breathing is exhaling pent up courage spoils fast and longing luck does not bestow madness madness all around gaping aching from lacklustre tries I wish I knew when madness was Successful

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Plus russian feminist pop, Edith PiafTM & Swiss-istential crisis

What Europe DOESNT Want: the Uk.

What eurovision jury think Europe Wants: 500 boring ass ballads that sound identical

What Europe REALLY Wants: 2000's rock, bisexuality, EDM Slavic Folk, Whatever Iceland has going on

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This is alt bi erasure honestly the AUDACITY you need to think Italy doesn't get all the girls & the guys

Can we talk about how the top 3 battle was a battle between the alt gays, the retro gays and hipster lesbians

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To Live on a Little Cliff {Poem}

To live on a little cliff, the mountains and the waters rarely out of sight. To teach important little things in important little towns, to walk home clutching dandelions in the spring, to smile warmly at every stranger passing by. 

To climb callused feet up a mossy cliff until they’re even with the very edge of the world, the edge where the sun meets infinity. To feel impossibly small in this vast bigness, to feel as though every callus every mark every bruise, scratch, step and scuff matters. 

To stare out into the stillness, to stare out until time no longer matters- until tears trickle down your gentle face, until no tears are left. Until it is just you and the scraggy cliff and the spongy moss between your toes.

And somehow, somehow it is so much more.

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you’re laughing. dean winchester died of tetanus and you’re laughing. 

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"As this world becomes increasingly ugly, callous and materialistic, it needs to be reminded that the old fairy stories are rooted in truth, that imagination is of value, that happy endings do, in fact, occur, and that the blue spring mist that makes an ugly street look beautiful is just as real a thing as the street itself."

- Elizabeth Goudge

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Pride month is here, which is an excellent time to once again reccomend hands down the best lgbtq YouTube video I've EVER seen: 'I'm gay- Eugene lee yang', Try Guys

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Listen for the Fae

Don a flower crown of daisies and daffodils, and walk barefoot through the tall grass ahead towards the forest on the far side of the meadow. Bathe in the yellow warmth of the setting sun,skim your fingers atop of wheat,breathe,then take off running. Lean against the wind, as your dress storms around your feet. Let laughter escape freely, feel the ground beneath you, the life within. Upon reaching the edge of the clearing stand still, testing the wind,listening for Fae, then turn and see a little brown bunny cautiously picking through the Bush, peering Curiously at you. Slowly put your hand in your right hand pocket (a stretched muddy pocket of a mess, essential in doing Important Business) and pull some blueberries out. Approach the bunny slowly, squat down, and offer the berries. Should the bunny say yes, it shall sniff in your direction,before coming closer and quickly stuffing it's thin round face. It doesn't get offered this delicacy often,but the forest has enough to go around. You sit still,absolutely still, Observing the little creature. Once you've treated it well,stand up,curtsy and wish good evening on bunny. Now leave, and do not look back. You should only hope you've proved a good impression on the Fae.

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The Burning Maze spoiler alert!

I feel like I've been stabbed repeatedly after reading TBM ,so I have decided that going into a indefinite state of denial is appropriate to deal with it. I mean... Why did Rick have to play us like that? He always killed off important but still background characters, and my guy didn't even GET the peace and quiet he had always dreamed of after the war,he just died.