#my poetry

[s0larize]

[seraphinesaintclair]

“Between Sleep and Elysium” by Seraphine Saintclair

[ink-flavored]

Magnet Monday Week 58: Smoke

this poem can be about your blorbo if you squint really hard

If you’re interested in being able to choose the topic of the next poem, make sure to vote in the weekly Magnet Monday polls! Or if you want a commission just like it, check out my pricing sheet!

Transcript under the cut!

[Ko-Fi] [Magnet Monday]

Magnet Monday Taglist (Check out my Google form to get added): @elegant-paper-collection ​ @polyphonetic @qelizhus @livums @maxdamaz

@auroblaze @stardustanddaffodils @thelaughingstag @ceph-the-ghost-writer @auntdarth

@damageinkorporated @srjacksin @alesseia

Smoke

I remember smoke above your fire

red sky and dark eyes

it hurts to the touch

melting skin from bone

the blaze of a soul screaming

flames too real and ferocious

to let the body bleed

you can survive poison air

meet hot steel and move broken

but do you feel happy

[notforeveryonesk6666]

Für meine sentimentalen, gefühlvollen, verliebten Follower

[wooftphr]

heatwaves and ant season

[phtalogreenpoison]

It’s not like the shepherd forgets.

i never quite got being

a protector.

i fight, i maim,

i growl, i bite.

i hurt.

survive is what i do. i am a

wolf in sheep’s clothing, but

why do you blame me?

i’m just trying to get by.

until i saw the lost sheep,

you struck out on your own,

leaving the group you felt

you hurt.

it was better that way.

all you wanted was to be

perfect.

and to go home.

i said,

(hey kid, i’m

clearly not perfect.)

i’m clearly a trap.

hey kid, what’s up?

why are you

quiet?  what’s wrong?

holding you as

you cry

or whatever kids

these days do.

i’m not asking

you to be perfect.

or to be the first

in line to the

shepherd’s arms

i’ll sit with you

as long as you need.

i don’t pounce or say

any sharp words that

glisten like fangs.

don’t expect you to go

anywhere immediately

either.  because home

is something you can’t

exile yourself from.

you’re safe with me,

until you make whatever

decision comes next for you.

and i laugh.

you wonder what it’s for.

but i think to myself,

at what point does a

wolf become a sheepdog?

an anchor to lead you home?

keeping one eye open and

fangs pointed at passerby –

loving you until you are

ready to go

where you choose next.

[crowthegeode]

Beginning to C(ee How Hard Music Is to Write as Words)

Dut.

Dut.

Dut dut dut dut

breathe in

two three

one two up

one prep play rolllllllllllllllll

mute.

pedal down switch drums

one two up

one prep play rolllllllllllllllll

mute.

pedal down switch drums

one two up

one prep play rolllllllllllllllll

mute.

pedal up mallets down

mallet change

slide them easy don't miss

A.

da-dat dat two three

oneandtwoandthreeand

oneandupplay

mute

down two three

da-dat dat two three

oneandtwoandthreeand

oneandupplay

mute

B.

ba-dap bap

one two three

oneandtwoplay

switch drums

ba-da-dat

switch drums

ba-dap bap

one two three

badadaaa

mute.

pedal up

switch drums

Dum-

switch-

Dum-

switch-

Da-dat Dum

switch

Dum Dum Dum

mute.

pedal down

two three

one two three

play rolllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

off

lean mute

two three

up two three

oneandtwoandthreeand

Dat Da Da-(switch)-Dat

mute.

[foxbirdy]

A short comic I made about my experiences as a seasonal worker, and the way places change you.

Prints & PDF

[caputvulpinum]

[s0larize]

[alexanderpearce]

ship ask game 😁1 Who would be first to to bite down anc consume the flesh of the other, euphoric in the taste and the heft and the slide of the blood 2. who is the ant and who is the ophiocordyceps fungus? 3. who is the dog and who is the master? 4 when the roles are blurred or reversed who would be first to die and how? would it be by bulletwound? the phallic blade? strangulation? 5. Cocaine or Heroin? 6. who licks up the other’s cigarette ash? 7 who is julius caesar and who is brutus? 8. who is jesus and who is judas? 9. did jesus want it? did julius caesar know it was coming? are the betrayed ever proud? 10. who is irrumatus and who is irrumans? who is pedicatus and who is pedicans? 11. did they ever kiss and why not? 12 if they are two sides of the same coin who is heads and who is tails? 13. and if the coin was the holey dollar? 14. And if the dog bit back? 15 and if the dog bit back? 16 and if the dog bit back? 17 and if the dog bit back? 18 and if the dog bit back? 19 and if the dog bit back? 20. Who buys the other flowers?🥰

[iblamenabil]

"Man suffers only because he takes seriously what the god made for fun"

- Alan W. Watts -

[echoesoftheinfinite]

I've walked a long way, yet I'm still searching for a place to call home.

[aurevives]

aure vives, ‘wildflower crush’

[candiedspit]

An excerpt from Shrine

[thoughtsfromb4]

There Is An Angel Who Sits Upon My Shoulder Who Goes By The Name Of Death

Preface: For the last day of mental health month, I wanted to share something I wrote that deals with some rather dark struggles. Struggles that I know others face as well. Struggles that I hope might be eased for just one person who reads this, even if only in the smallest way.

There is an angel who sits upon my shoulder who goes by the name of Death, And though I cannot always see him, upon my neck I can always feel his breath As he whispers to me relentlessly, deftly using my soul’s own Shibboleth.

He is my phantasmagorical companion from which there has thus far been no escape, One who has no single voice nor form yet is somehow always horrific in his shape When my mind’s eye sees him lying in the darkest shadows of my brain's path-illogical landscape.

For while it may be hidden, we are locked in eternal battle, one to which we both are bound, And though the clashes rage on deep within, the fighting furious and yet without a sound, The hardest part is not the fighting, it is the feeling that there will never be any respite to be found.

This war is one without casualties but still with victims–its battles waged within the mind– But even having entreated aid from all my demons with any values I could trade in kind, I have yet to even dream of any type of peace accords to which we would both agree to bind.

But what I have paid in pain to learn in this seemingly Sisyphean struggle is that one cannot sit idly by, That every new assault of his is but an opportunity for me to learn new tactics that I can in future then apply. Thus I have vowed: Whatever new mental munitions he has in store for me, nor what deadly schemes I must yet defy– Though I know, like you, I too will one day meet my end, it shall be he who will be the first to die.

-- @thoughtsfromb4