#ivawrites

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i did it - the little zine is here!

it's so simple but it took me so much time to actually DO IT

(do you know when you want to do something and you just... don't? okok so now.... I did it! ihihihih)

I'm folding the printed versions here as I type and tomorrow I will take them to the library, coffee shop, and other little art shops in my town :) and you can get yours for free here!

Download, print, and fold: the mini poetry zine is all yours! xx GO MINI ZINES

reblog if you love poetry :)

and the mention list for the dearests

@fairytaleinagem @remnantofabrokensoul @yakultstan @illarian-rambling @cssnder

@thedayoftherae @sablewing @stumbling-through-time @burntblanc @lelestarmy

@caustic-splines @hersurvival @icantdance @poetici @informedimaginingn

@crow-with-a-typewriter @goodluckclove

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Last time I saw the sea, I was with you in your car. I cried. You smiled at the tears going down my cheeks. I'm not sure you understood what I was feeling, but you did understand my waters, and that was enough. I noticed I could calm down the furious waves of my heart for you to swim, even welcome your boat, lead the fish towards it, hold your precious life with both hands.

The sun was suddenly inside the car with us and we could explode, pure light, pure love, pure immaculate silence that covered us with electric pearls and white veils.

by alexbeckett_

[inkedwingss]

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does love exist without sacrifice? and does sacrifice exist, with no pain? painless life, I see no gains! just another robot in the rain unable to feel the drops chilling their veins cold these are ages of veinless love but the soul is in the blood we have no artery, no bump, no heart no ups and downs as God intended we are lifeless! if it doesn't move it's dead, they told me but on that calm Sunday no suffering, no thunder and I realized I would rip my chest apart just for you, for a smile to smell your breath or anything like it no big problems required the sacrifice was already done inwards me, lying down at the altar while love aches, in invisible pure and beautiful slaughter

[inkedwingss]

Practising so I can do full pages of handwritten poetry :)

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✶ substack

✶ insta

✶ zines

✶ listening

Stife Dichotomy I guess I can say I'm a lonely soul — at times I feel like a child, sometimes like I'm one hundred years old. I'm too weird for my friends, too friendly for strangers, too holy for the world, too worldly for the holy; too high-functioning for a diagnosis, and too self-aware to drop my therapist. Definitely too mystic for hedonism, and too orthodox for gnosticism — but also too experienced to believe in imperfect human definitions. Too smart for the educational system, but definitely too dumb for basic math. Also, I get lost very, very easily and have this tendency to hit myself while walking around the house, which means I might hit you if we walk side by side. Can't stop crying once I start. I will need coffee. And tea. I hate most textures, so don't buy me clothes as a gift, please. In fact, I prefer shopping alone. I'd be happy to hold your hand and just feel the silence with you if you need me to — or the pain, or the joy. Love reading, but rarely love books. Desktop > mobile. I have a kaleidoscope for a mind. Would take in all the abandoned animals and orphans if I had the chance, but I can't help everyone, and can't help myself sometimes... also, I'm a terrible liar. English is my second language. I can be grumpy for no reason, especially if I'm tired. Yeah, I'm full of flaws, but following the flawless one. Anyway, while you're here, I hope you feel welcome.

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@lelestarmy @fairytaleinagem @remnantofabrokensoul

@yakultstan @illarian-rambling @cssnder @crow-with-a-typewriter

[inkedwingss]

In the wilderness of my heart, I was wandering, listening The wind cried, and so did I But my dry were my tears Until I saw him Against the horizon line Shining as the sunrise The mountains far behind falling apart, silently They bowed down and I reached out to touch

The light The fountain of wine Exploding in the middle of my desert

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about poetry

Good things take time? Sometimes. There are dreadful things that happen for too long, and amazing splits of a second. The amount of time and effort are not the main indicators that something has value.

I was thinking that specifically because of my poems — because I was arguing with myself the other day about how I feel they have no value, even though I'm aware this is the wrong thought to think (and I will always defend thinking and feeling something is a real experience, but not necessarily rooted in truth). But poems... What are these little creatures? It's just that they happen so quickly! They burst from my mind and I type as fast as I can so I don't lose the line. They are not perfect, but they are mine, and they are true, and they are... Valuable.

I cried one day on my way to the coffee shop to see my new friend and give him the poem I wrote for him. Our friendship was two weeks old. The poem took me less than ten minutes to write, and while reading it, he cried. We sat under the sun for about three hours (not the whole day, not a whole life), and then he walked me back to the bridge — probably a five-minute walk.

All of that had immense value. Priceless treasure. It happened fast. It burned my heart forever.

To me writing it's just what I do, something I can't stop doing and I will never stop doing even if I don't ever publish anything at all. I don't struggle to write, I struggle with physical pain/fatigue, my own wrong thoughts, a busy routine and other shit, but writing will happen. At some point in my day, I just have to do it.

So yes, we live in times where things are immediate, and I will always advocate for the slow life, slow growth... I don't believe in rushing the process or jumping stages. It takes time to build true skills even in the creative, intuitive realm. It does! But also, sometimes, things happen fast. Maybe you have a talent, or you practised so much that know it just "comes naturally." Maybe you've been deeply inspired. Maybe your brain is wired that way (@goodluckclove). Whatever it is: what you do still has value even if you struggle to do it, or when you do not struggle at all. Value is within.

I decided to do with this one that was waiting in my draft for the first tag list post. Thank you, angels.

@caustic-splines @hersurvival @icantdance @poetici @informedimagining @thedayoftherae @sablewing @stumbling-through-time @burntblanc @lelestarmy @fairytaleinagem @remnantofabrokensoul

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His lips are shaped like mid-flight wings, his tongue, in the grace of feathers. The sunset-pink shade, two tones darker than his sharp cheekbones (when it's hot in the summer), swallowed me whole: my heart exploded; expanding in his safety, magically contained. I'm kept, I'm sane—perhaps I'm cracked open, devoured by love. Golden, ginger hair, as the light strikes his face; the warm brown of his kind, smart, all-seeing eyes shine upon my fate, and bring my soul from the pit of myself, putting me high in the mountains of somewhere else: a place I've never been before, higher than my intellectual shelves. He takes my hand, my icy fingers against his warm skin, and I don't think. I follow his lead, as he stands like a collum made of marble, in truth and spirit. Backbone and spine: he will smile and the world will be silent to hear the music of his laugh, the world will blush on the curve of his neck, and with his words, I faint a little closer to the death of the flesh. He covers me, and I bow down. He rises and I descend into the ground. At his feet, I sit down, on his lap, I rest my head—taken, inebriated, undone—navigating the beauty of what is unavailable to the old worldly world: the dissolving of two in one.

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Tasteless Sunsets

Unease feeling, throat squeezed tight Under the orange sunset’s dying light Moon burns bright as a candle at night Crying for the earth, where nothing is right A little morbs here and there It’s alright, no rush, no despair We don’t have to be always so joyful Sadness doesn’t make life that awful

But loneliness, at the end of the day Vulnerable creatures, our defenses we lay Before all these photographs of dead faces And the quiet words, unjustly suffocated

In this void space there is no winner We search for a hand in the darkness Only to find our backs in the mirror Only to find in our necks a harness And reconsider, we are but beginners Oh, light—please, disarm and forgive us!

Take yourself for a walk, leave the sketches Behind, and also the poems, despise The billions of empty books and voices Search for His footsteps in the ashes

Of all the vain distractions, all the burdens Of all the things we do and fight so hard to keep Search for truth and let it open the curtains Expose these false gods and rulers, so cheap

That’s when the sadness turns into joy An arrow pointing our way to the north We are not yet where we wish to be Be brave, sailor, as we cross this sea!

To home, bought by the blood of His wounds All ugliness, soulless spaces and their gloom all traps of the heart will be gone—predators too! No more sunsets or sunrises, or wandering at noon For the light of His face will be our sun and moon Eternal joy and beauty, for me and for you

Endure now, sailor, these stormy waters with me The lack of meaning, the sorrows, their cruelty Grab your sword, for the stars will soon be black And once we are called, don’t ever look back!

Even when your rest is all you can give Or a whispered prayer, wishing you could leave Lay down now, be safe, his promise is peace No fear: eternally in His kingdom we shall live

✶ mention list for writing posts (let me know if you want to join or opt out)

@caustic-splines @hersurvival @canibereborn

@soulstarscape @informedimagining @thedayoftherae

@sablewing @stumbling-through-time @burntblanc

@lelestarmy @fairytaleinagem @remnantofabrokensoul

@yakultstan @illarian-rambling @cssnder @crow-with-a-typewriter

I'm still alive. Trying to get back to posting here as I'm almost done editing the poetry collection.

[inkedwingss]

The Voice of many waters calls you by name. Not your earthly name — for your true name is hidden within the molecules of the Eternal rain, did you know that? Name as in identity. Here the calling comes and then you will be certain that is more real than anything you've ever experienced. In the beginning, the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. In the beginning, he separated waters from waters. That is why water has memory. Water calms down the human brain, they said in a study the other day. Water is a requirement for life. And there are three that bear witness in earth, the spirit, and the water, and the blood: and these three agree in one. The rivers of Eden, the rain in the desert, the flood that swallows the evil and set you free. Learn how to float, and the water will carry you home.

the thought of You

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here comes death, one last breath we all know what is behind the gates

the fate is to fade into the next bit a little escape, a little twisted way of depart, one last kiss

we dream of eternal life, we don't know how to describe it well enough we dream of never saying goodbye perhaps we only dream of love

avoiding death's smile on our necks let us not think about it, let us forget so we don't have to adjust our life in the little time we have left

too many thoughts, too many dreams too many tears and waisted minutes as the clock ticks, a little more maybe we should take a closer look invite death for a chat, offer a cuppa try to understand a little about her what is a little life, a little breath we all want to know what is behind the gates

-- accepting suggestions for the tittle of this one

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last night I had a poem looking pretty in my mind words dancing all around faster than I would type well I didn't even get up from bed I was actually too tired to do that didn't type anything and didn't write fell asleep and lost those rhymes I just feel very weird about it sometimes like a job I want to quit from and hide leave all the creativity and madness behind make a coffee, bake some bread: I will be fine after all our employers expect machines and drones while big tech and pharma lick each other to the bones our meat in their plates— please, take me home! where time died and the clock of man is gone

but I will always come back to it, you see it's not an escape, it's not even a mystery perhaps my misery, or maybe my ordinary soul, heart, mind— breaking— free!

mention list for writing posts (let me know if you want to join): @caustic-splines @hersurvival @icantdance @poetici @informedimagining

@thedayoftherae @sablewing @stumbling-through-time @burntblanc @lelestarmy

@fairytaleinagem @remnantofabrokensoul @yakultstan @illarian-rambling @cssnder

@crow-with-a-typewriter

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oh come may, sweet may, we are patiently waiting for the days end and begin again take my hand and run faster to the end of the calendar take me fast to the deep waters of his sea, waving

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OC names tag

Rules: Answer how you came up with your characters names and personalities.

Thank you dear @poethill for the tag! I am not big on tag games, but this weekend I finally had enough time and space to go back to my novel (drastic changes btw), so this feels right for this moment. I'm going with the main ocs:

Angie

Named after the Rolling Stones song, Angeline has a lot of anger because I had a lot of anger when she was born. Lots of questions, as well. She can be mean or rude, but not in a hot-villain way. She is just human: sometimes, she messes up. Her traits were also a reaction to the ''Bella Swan'' female character. Or the ''dangerous but absolutely pornographic'' type of female character. Or the ''I'm strong like a boy'' type, or the ''I don't fart'' type. I guess Angie is a place where I processed and still process some aspects of my femininity, anger and relationships. Angeline means Messenger (of God), which is the meaning of the word Angel (Greek - Angelos), which has too many layers and personal implications as well.

Evan

Another name I never second-guessed: it just popped into my head, ready to go. At the time, I had a friend who understood me incredibly well, without the need of words. He just knew how to get through me. Evan has lots of his personality. And my taste for rock music belongs with him.

Damien

Inspired by Damien Rice (for a long time, he was my favourite singer/songwriter). My best friend at the time, a girl, inspired some aspects of Damien. Also, the dynamic between him and Evan was similar to ours, so I incorporated and exaggerated some of that.

Madeleine

Tried to rename her a bunch of times, because of Angeline, but nothing will stick besides her original name. Maddie is a mix of many girls in my life, including myself.

Anthony

Like all the others, his name just appeared in my head and it felt absolutely right. There was a manga with lovely art and shit plot that one of my online friends at the time used to read, and she had all these pictures of her favourite character. I don't think kids these days will ever understand how precious pictures were before Pinterest, but anyway... She used to write fanfics, not about him specifically, but we talked a lot and his personality influenced many aspects of Anthony. She was big on angst, that's all I can say.

Tagging @cssnder @mysteryofvampires @drchenquill @valyalyon @informedimagining @crow-with-a-typewriter