#poetry in english

[changecomesinlikealion]

"Why some days of the week feel like others"

Some days of the week feel like others because they are others. If there’s a holiday on monday, tuesday is gonna be a monday, and that feels horrible, but then thursday is gonna be a wednesday or, if you think about it too much then you get confused and get to the conclusion that if yesterday was not the day you mistook it for, then maybe today is actually tomorrow. Friday is only tomorrow, but tomorrow is gonna feel like a thursday right up until you get home and realize you can stay up late and then it’s a friday all over again.

Some days of the week feel like others because when you small talk with your friends just to fill the void of the conversation you say that the weather is kinda weird today and you wonder if it’s gonna rain, and the last time it was like this was a month ago because it barely rains in this god forsaken city and you remember it was a tuesday because that’s the only day your physics class ends at 6pm and now it’s happening all over again except it's neither thursday nor did you have physics today.

Some days of the week feel like others because you live alone and get really lonely on the weekends, so you’d wish that it was the middle of the week and you’re watching classes and wishing it was the weekend so you could play some games with your friends, but it is indeed the weekend and your friends are all busy and you just feel like a slump and friday night feels like sunday and sunday feels like saturday and then and then and then time doesn’t pass so you spend 12 hours a day sleeping and do nothing all day.

Some days of the week feel like others because you come back to your family when you’re on vacation and the days all mesh onto each other and when you least expect it you realize you’re suffering like it’s a busy monday but it’s actually wednesday and you are alone alone alone and also unbearably accompanied by those that love you but whom you can’t stand

Some days of the week feel like others because you feel like an other. Just as monday is expecting friday and sunday is aborting the week and bleeding all over the bed and dying a gross and gruesome death, you are pregnant with expectation that one day you’re gonna be able to be yourself. Just like the rain can’t help but make it feel like it’s 6pm on a tuesday after your physics class, and a holiday on monday makes thursday feel like a day beyond the times, you can’t help but feel like are everything except a boy or a man, but your manhood feels like a girlhood and your girlhood feels like something else that will never quite fit in. But maybe that’s ok and next week the days will feel normal again

[plantsngogh]

💌 mis escritos 💌

sobre el toque de las manos | on the touch of hands

“me estremezco de solo imaginarlo, porque es lo único que puedo hacer: fantasear sobre la intimidad del tacto de las manos, ser consciente de mis carencias y permanecer en la incertidumbre de cuándo será el día en que esa ilusión simplemente deje de serlo.”

dos almas en un solo cuerpo | two souls in one body

“un cuerpo que tiene que pasar por el suplicio de la mudanza diaria en el aroma de la noche, que tiene que inhalar estrellas para olvidar las horas pasadas porque ninguno de esos segundos interesa.”

las profundidades de un océano y las dolencias que involucran el color azul | the depths of an ocean and the ailments involving the color blue

“no pueden deshacerse de ella, así como yo tampoco puedo evitar caer en la trampa de navegar por los cimientos de mis propias tristezas y escribir párrafos completos sobre el color que ha ahogado a más personas de las que mis dedos podrían contar.”

[feehippielove]

Book: The Giant Book of Poetry

Edited by: William H. Roetzhem

Charles Perkins Stetson (1860 - 1935)

Archilochos (700 BC - 650 BC)

Tao Yuan-Ming (365 - 427)

Moritake (1452 -1540)

[hidden-rubys]

No Longer Sob Alone

3/1/19 3:35a.m. 

Oh, the sun!  The beaut of the sky, the warmth and the blaze of day, the bright smiles where the sadness decay. And Earth chases its light, to illuminate its sky, leaving its half in darkness. 

And oh, the moon, the hopeless romantic of Earth. Spinning around it to chase the light. And I find myself so much of the moon; chasing hope, but we never aline, shining in the darkest of hours waiting, waiting I am for a reason to dim. And I witness the darkest scenes. Watching helplessly, mouthlessly, wishing I could stop the misery. 

Could it be the gods crying when the sky is pouring? Crying, weeping for how their creations wage bloodsheds, spreading ashes, spilling wine. And oh, too much do I whine! 

The bread, the beds they're stained with blood. And I wish upon the sun, I could meet the gods, so I could no longer wail alone. 

Oh, the oceans! How beautiful they are! And oh, how many people have spilled their ink in their water. So enigmatic. They hold, oh, so many wars and betrayals. And I just crave for laying my body against the silky texture as a letter in a bottle, in the middle of nowhere with no terminus. Thrown with hope to be found, trusting the waves, hoping to be saved. 

And I wish upon the moon, I could tell the gods, so I can no longer sob alone.

[ihavetobacco]

How does one move on when you're not past? you are present, living, breathing memory

How am I supposed to tell them?

I feel like they should stop listening to your bands laughing at the same jokes as you did greeting me the same way, unnoticed by them but only pushing me further into the emptyness of your absence

What would you do? What do you do if it happens to you? do they laugh like me? do they wear the same converse as me? are they passionate about my interests? do you tell them my reaction was the same when you told me that story of how [ ] happened to you?

and I know felt your tenderness first, helped you build yourself up and your personality just like you helped me

Do you recognize my work? Do you talk to them about me? will they notice? Do you notice it in their tone?

Are we just meant to keep looking for a copy of something that didn't work out at all?

Do you miss me? Do you miss me? I was there

How do you cope when everything familiar is just you? How can I move on?

[yuboandyubo]

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

{Quotes:Nitya prakash/Richard siken ,crush}

[burningvelvet]

a twitter thread that actually killed me

[flimythings]

"you cant heal if you pretend you're not hurt"

-filmythings

[poetryforall]

-Rumi

[imsayak]

People aren't homes, they never will be. People are rivers, always changing, forever flowing. They will disappear with everything you put inside them.

~ Nikita Gill

[plantsngogh]

— two souls in one body, cwrotes

[text ID: that way you could save yourself from the annoying vulnerability you go through when the sun fades on the sidewalks that separates the sky from the earth and no light illuminates you even above your head.]

[changecomesinlikealion]

Untitled #2

If the desired person of mine arrives,

(Or should I say when?)

Don’t know if more from there than from here

Maybe I’ll be happy! I really hope I’ll be

Maybe I’ll say “Hello, my dehidrated!

My skinny love that won’t last a month

My starving, desperate, humiliated,

Sorry the words seem to play hide and seek with me today

(Or maybe everyday? These days it has been hard to tell)

Back again,

My starving, desperate, humiliated,

Love? Friend?

Will there ever be a difference?

Maybe I was all wrong from the start”

You see, it has become increasingly obvious that I was born molten

Melting gender and anxiety and a predisposition to saying sorry too much and something else that I don’t quite understand yet but that spews toxic fumes from my broken down skin, polluting the sky around me and making me not see the sun

I am warming the globe

Lighting the society fuse

But I have forsaken my own existence

For the opportunity to maybe,

Just maybe

Kiss again

[mysterieuxclairdelune]

I am jealous of those who think more deeply, who write better, who draw better, who look better, who live better, who love better than I.

-Sylvia Plath

[lunamonchtuna]

— Benjamin Alire Sáenz, “To the Desert” from Dark and Perfect (El Paso: Cinco Puntos Press, 1995) (via lunamonchtuna)

[rainreads]

"Tired" by Langston Hughes.