b-a-s-t-a-h-d - Tumblr blog

[b-a-s-t-a-h-d]

It is so hard to not document everything

Like 'something good just happened. What if I forget'

(Me trying to control myself and not screenshot every one of their texts)

Maybe there was no contentedness for a while, and now I wanna keep it 🍊☕️🧡💕🍩🍜💅💝💚🧃🌎🛫💀🍴🧋✨️🌧🌻🌿

[b-a-s-t-a-h-d]

I am missing a place I haven't left

This is my last night in it for..

Six years? With some visits perhaps

Huh.

[b-a-s-t-a-h-d]

Still my favorite poem:

The Leaden Echo and the Golden Echo, by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Mainly because it is so fun to read out loud oo'

The Leaden Echo-

How to keep–is there ány any, is there none such, nowhere known some, bow or brooch or braid or brace, láce, latch or catch or key to keep

Back beauty, keep it, beauty, beauty, beauty, . . . from vanishing away?

Ó is there no frowning of these wrinkles, rankèd wrinkles deep,

Dówn? no waving off of these most mournful messengers, still

messengers, sad and stealing messengers of grey?

No there’s none, there’s none, O no there’s none,

Nor can you long be, what you now are, called fair,

Do what you may do, what, do what you may,

And wisdom is early to despair:

Be beginning; since, no, nothing can be done

To keep at bay

Age and age’s evils, hoar hair,

Ruck and wrinkle, drooping, dying, death’s worst, winding

sheets, tombs and worms and tumbling to decay;

So be beginning, be beginning to despair.

O there’s none; no no no there’s none:

Be beginning to despair, to despair,

Despair, despair, despair, despair.

The Golden Echo-

Spare!

There is one, yes I have one (Hush there!);

Only not within seeing of the sun,

Not within the singeing of the strong sun,

Tall sun’s tingeing, or treacherous the tainting of the earth’s air.

Somewhere elsewhere there is ah well where! one,

Óne. Yes I can tell such a key, I do know such a place,

Where whatever’s prized and passes of us, everything that’s fresh and fast flying of us, seems to us sweet of us and swiftly away with, done away with, undone,

Undone, done with, soon done with, and yet dearly and dangerously sweet

Of us, the wimpled-water-dimpled, not-by-morning-matchèd face,

The flower of beauty, fleece of beauty, too too apt to, ah! to fleet,

Never fleets more, fastened with the tenderest truth

To its own best being and its loveliness of youth: it is an ever-

lastingness of, O it is an all youth!

Come then, your ways and airs and looks, locks, maiden gear, gallantry and gaiety and grace,

Winning ways, airs innocent, maiden manners, sweet looks, loose locks, long locks, lovelocks, gaygear, going gallant, girlgrace–

Resign them, sign them, seal them, send them, motion them with breath,

And with sighs soaring, soaring síghs deliver

Them; beauty-in-the-ghost, deliver it, early now, long before death

Give beauty back, beauty, beauty, beauty, back to God, beauty’s self and beauty’s giver.

See; not a hair is, not an eyelash, not the least lash lost; every hair

Is, hair of the head, numbered.

Nay, what we had lighthanded left in surly the mere mould

Will have waked and have waxed and have walked with the wind what while

we slept,

This side, that side hurling a heavyheaded hundredfold

What while we, while we slumbered.

O then, weary then whý should we tread? O why are we so haggard at the heart, so care-coiled, care-killed, so fagged, so fashed, so cogged, so cumbered,

When the thing we freely fórfeit is kept with fonder a care,

Fonder a care kept than we could have kept it, kept

Far with fonder a care (and we, we should have lost it) finer, fonder

A care kept. Where kept? Do but tell us where kept, where.–

Yonder.–What high as that! We follow, now we follow.–

Yonder, yes yonder, yonder,

Yonder.

[b-a-s-t-a-h-d]

( °/-/°)' ( ^∇^)･ﾟ･｡ (•v• )

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[b-a-s-t-a-h-d]

Removing, funny, glazed over, necessity, repeating, communal joke, television, movies, angel number, common, exchanging

Red and white and green LEDs, water on concrete, pavement, cars, the smell of gas, refreshments, junk food, cigarettes

Tradgedy, smoke, skyscrapers, crying on the news, terror, a nation's grief, cancelled flights, too many blood donors, rubble, dogs

[b-a-s-t-a-h-d]

After a brief accidental takeover by elemmeno-p i am back on the insanity grind

[b-a-s-t-a-h-d]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[b-a-s-t-a-h-d]

Therefore the more allowed

The more a roar comes from the crowd

And artistry is watered down

Because it's cruel to let some drown

Folks joined in commonality

As more small voices become free

Roads flooded with more poetry

They most love love, the stars, the sea

Talent and luck are on decline

As AI claims what should be mine

And though all work remains divine

To be heard is to really shine

[b-a-s-t-a-h-d]

Every word feels so cliché, so weak,

Overused and overwritten and overspoken

Too many mouths have held it

To many people have held it

For the same reason that people

For the number of interactions

Have their spoken worth affected

Clichés in poetry stand

As just the human experience dulled to

Dulled may be better but

As cliché speaks

To lose all is to lose the good

[b-a-s-t-a-h-d]

A good burn is toothpaste after a long day, the goosebumps from being wrapped up in blankets

A good chill is removing your jacket on a walk in the woods, that moment when you close your eyes to steel yourself in the cold shower

A bad burn is whiskey after a long day, or goosebumps from the humid night air and the words you just said

A bad chill is driving past the parking lot that was your elementary school, and when you finally realize you are not a good person

[b-a-s-t-a-h-d]

I go to make a poetry account and all words cease to exist