antigoneblue

[antigoneblue]

Lit Hub has posted an article with the names, photos and biographies of the Palestinian poets and writers killed by the IOF since the beginning of October. May we remember them, their names & their poems 🍉🕊🍓🪁

"Since October 7, Israel has killed at least thirteen Palestinian poets and writers in Gaza.

If we think of ourselves as a global literary community, then these people were our fellow travelers, our peers.

They—just like the more than 66 Palestinian journalists killed in Gaza in the line of duty; just like every one of the more than 21,000 innocent people massacred in Gaza, the West Bank, and Israel over the past 75 days—deserve to be remembered."

#not my writing but it is prudent to share here i feel #ok i'm logging off now #i'll try & be back sooner rather than later

[antigoneblue]

anyway. free palestine

#i havent written a poem in so long and you can probably tell #i forgot the login for here for a bit too RIP. anyway being silent on this wasnt sitting right with me #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #my writing #poetry #ok 2 rb #im not using any of the activist tags and so on because i don't want to dilute whatever information is being posted ykwim #img description in alt text

[antigoneblue]

i don’t think i can be anyone’s girlfriend, but i want to be yours. is that weird? i want to know what it feels like. curled up against you in the backseat of your car. the romantic pulse i feel for you beats low & smooth, easy under the flesh-and-meat of my body and all the other things that are encompassed by being a human. the hum of a future i never believed in, the dreams i never thought i’d get to have in real life. more than anything i want to smoke cigarettes with you at a bus stop. i want to make you tea and watch you smile as you sip it. i want to watch you do your makeup until your routines are so familiar to me that i could do it for you. not that i’d ever be that brave; you can bet my hands would shake so much i’d only ever smudge your mascara and wing your eyeliner wrong. what i’m trying to say is, romance, real and true romance, is fleeting for me. comes and goes like a bullet train. but you? i’ve always been in love with you, just a little. under the surface where it doesn’t hurt. like the ocean, always there but so far from me. if i walked into the centre of it, it would swallow me whole. i don’t mind as much as you would expect me to. 

love letter, 1/?? by antigoneblue

#poetry #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #wlw poetry #queer poetry #been remembering girlhood and that got me in a mood i suppose #hi everyone! i really meant it when i said i would try and be here more often. i am doing my best #<3 <3 #ok 2 rb

[antigoneblue]

non-poemmic updates from a coffin far away from you

it has been TWO YEARS since i was here, so another quick, non-poemmic update.

there are many reasons i disappeared so suddenly and for so long, but i’m not sure how to condense them & do them justice. a lot of things happened in quick succession, and i just did not want to be online or be perceieved anymore. i jumped ship on a lot of things. literally disappeared from lit mag twitter. it all just felt like too much and i wanted some space & time to myself.

and then for a long, long time, i just... didn’t write poetry. even as i write this, i will openly admit that i have maybe written.... 3 poems? in the whole of 2023 so far. that’s pretty pathetic, for me.

all that said, i really do think i have grown as a person. and i don’t know if i can promise i’ll be back here, nor do i know if this space even exists for me to return to, but i’m ready to explore & rediscover & whatever else.

you know how i mentioned gender is weird? i still stand by that. gender is strange and i am nonbinary. but also, i’m a man. a transgender man. i’m 70% man & 30% other weirdness that makes me eligible for nonbinaryism. (the tone with which i am saying this is very jokey, not sure it comes thru in text.) i am sure my poetry has implied it for many many years but i’m just going ahead and saying it with my whole chest now. i’m a nonbinary trans guy.

THAT, growing into that, has been something i’ve really been sitting with, like waiting for an egg to hatch (and gosh, i finally understand that metaphor.) i can say i’m much happier now.

if you read all that, thanks! i’m gonna pin this post now, i think.

#not a poem #public service announ- no i cant clog the tags with this

[antigoneblue]

[ image description: a three lined magnet poem. there are spaces between each word and each phrase. the magnets say: "live but liquid / sacred yet soft / listen / girl is boy when time is flowering" /end ID ]

#poetry #poems #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #world poetry day #my writing #magnet poetry #magnet poetry is actually really hard ok #you have very limited options #also i haven't written poetry in a very long while. i am rusty #and you may see the proof of that. #all the same #trans poetry #transgender #transgenderisms #pfft. #queer poetry #okay i dont know how tags work

[antigoneblue]

Where you go?

hi, i have no idea how old this is. whoops.

but yes, hello! i needed a mental health break from posting poetry on the internet. i think i might come back now, actually (need that sweet creative outlet again) but i'm not sure if i'll be as active as i was previously on tumblr. things are kind of different now in terms of what i want to do, where i want to be, what using tumblr feels like, who i think i am... and so on. i need to find a new balance.

thanks for checking in! if anyone's still around, hi! *waves*

#not a poem #anon #i WILL post a poem now. thats why i logged in actually

[antigoneblue]

divya’s writing prompts: december ‘21

these are intended as poetry writing prompts, but you can use them for anything - prose, art journals, photography, playlists, fanfiction - whatever floats your boat. just mention where you got them from, if you do use them (& feel free to tag #antigoneblue if you post on tumblr, i’ll check the tag every now and then!)

if you want to challenge yourself, you can do one for each day, but you don't have to. you can go in any order, skip anything or do some of them multiple times... hell, you can bookmark this page and use these prompts next year, or the year after that.

the weight of a stone in your palm

pastel blue sky

soft as a rabbit

pumpkin patch

string instruments go quiet

you’ve never said this one out loud

early morning fog

tiptoeing like you have a secret

buzzing noises from the radio

forever’s just a word

a bag full of frozen green peas

learning a new language

suitcase full of junk

memory’s a blessing and a curse some days

you are your own grandparent

whittle out the thing you dream of

tube of chapstick in your pocket

fever dreams you won’t forget

wrong number

a poem about a poem

empty boxes. are you moving out?

empty boxes. did you move in?

slow dancing in the corridors

there is a fox sleeping in your bed

you always lose at jenga

she left nothing in your apartment but a lipstick stain

vials full of vinegar by the windows

going ghost

soft fleece and woollen scarves

everyone’s got to believe in something

rebirth in the swimming pool changing rooms

hope everyone has a good december (i know it can be a rough month.) sending lots of love!

#writing #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #poetry community #spilled ink #spilled words #prompts #writing challenge #ok 2 rb #in fact. encouraged to rb #have fun!

[antigoneblue]

quick, non-poemmic updates!

i wasn’t going to do this, but then realised that it’s TRULY been a while, so maybe something like this isn’t totally out of order :’) 

some of you might’ve noticed that my old sideblog, @redeyecyanide, no longer exists / is no longer accessible. i figured i’d explain that, so that nobody worries about me or worries that something bad might’ve happened that resulted in that.

i’m also kind of in a new era of my life, so i figured we’d talk that through, as well. i’m happy & content & in a good place - a better place to be in than i’d hoped at this point in time, and it’s something i am grateful for.

and i just want, you know, if anyone’s been reading my work and relating to the despair in some of those poems, or the grief, or the sadness, or any of that - it gets better. it’s getting better for me. it might not feel like it, but it will get better for you too. you just have to be more stubborn than the things that are getting you down - easier said than done, but doable. and so, so worth it.

stuff re: old blog down below! 

~

so well, here’s the whole deal w/ redeyecyanide. while i did not grow up on the internet to the same extent some of my peers did, i was definitely extremely online from when i was around 15 onwards. i don’t regret any of it and i think for the most part i had relatively healthy boundaries going - with a few exceptions, which i can confidently say i have learnt from. 

keeping that aside, as it usually happens when you are 15, and when you come back 7 years later, is that a lot of your beliefs change. i owned redeyecyanide and was active on there primarly when i was ... 18 / 19 / 20, but i was still in the process of learning & unlearning a lot of things. i often made statements that were... not accurate, with sweeping confidence, because i thought i was right. i sometimes generalised things in problematic ways, or made commentary based on my opinions which did not in any way represent how i felt about other people’s opinions. i was honestly very angry at the injustice present in the world, and learning to live with that anger and channel it into something more sustainable, productive, useful and healthy. that wasn’t the easiest thing and in some instances i feel i could’ve handled a lot of things in better and in more objective/calmer ways. 

basically, i deleted that blog because it felt like a very “there’s a lot to unpack but let’s throw away the whole suitcase” kind of moment. my values are still the same, i’m still firmly anti bigotry, but i’m also 100% sex positive / anti swerf, provided there’s informed consent btwn people who can consent & all that good stuff - which is a value i always believed in but, at the time, i hadn’t done enough unlearning to be as sex positive as i wanted. kink-shaming doesn’t make sense to me anymore, esp not under the guise of “social justice”. 

since we’re on tumblr, i unfortunately need to add that assuming people are p*dophiles at the drop of a hat, just because someone said so, definitely does not sit right with me. that’s a serious, serious allegation, and it’s important not to throw around allegations like that over... somebody shipping drarry, or whatever the new ship that everyone hates is. let’s not make callout posts for everyone under the sun, moon & solar system, please. save it for when it’s important.

i’m also 100% radically inclusive when it comes to lgbtq+ identities. i support any and all good faith identity & pronouns (and by good faith i mean, identities that are sincere/genuine and not made to poke fun at people or be degrading) and i honestly think most lgbt+ discourse is unnecessary because another person’s gender/sexuality is not your business - which is something i have always believed, but now i know that if i have to choose sides, i choose the people who are quietly existing, rather than the people who believe they shouldn’t exist or should exist elsewhere. 

i identify as “queer”, i do not identify as “lgbt” or “lgbtq” or “lgbtqia” or any other acronym. no shade at people who prefer those, just doesn’t work for me anymore. 

yeah, that’s about it. thanks for reading all the way, if you did :’) hope everyone’s doing well! 

#not a poem #i was a little on the fence about posting this and i still sort of am #but hey.......... it's growth #i think that's important #now im logging out again. see y'all in another couple of months

[antigoneblue]

i am doing my skincare routine and it is so absurdly normal that i feel disconnected entirely from reality. severed. i’ve seen the death toll; i have nothing but chilling pain in my heart over it all. the way the west is walking on forwards & leaving us behind (i knew this would happen but it still hurts), the way our own governments are looking the other way as the numbers go higher and higher – i feel like cassandra, prophecies that go unheard spilling out of a brittle mouth, my voice a wound and my tongue a knife turned inward –  i saw all the signs and i knew, i always knew, but knowing wasn’t enough to save anybody. i am doing my skincare routine –  it’s a new one that i made up, it makes me feel a little better, makes me feel like i’m coming out of the fridge instead of rising from the heat of a summer that will see more death and devastation than i can put into words, more grief than i can ever share with anyone who’s not in the swell of it. i don’t know if this skincare routine will even work, but it’s something to do; with my hands, with my face. i’m living in a bubble. i keep getting messages from my parents, frantic, displaced horror and angst coagulating into capitalised angry big letters. DON’T GO OUTSIDE, OR ELSE. what do they take me for? i put the cotton that i used to dab at my face with in the trash. i feel like a porcelain doll. people are dying, and i feel like a porcelain doll.

everyone’s apathy is disgusting (but what do i feel?) / div @ antigoneblue

#there isnt anything to say about how scared for india i am right now #writing #poets on tumblr #spilled ink #coronavirus #writers on tumblr #life #thoughts #free verse

[antigoneblue]

every single poem i have ever written served the same purpose. look at the sky. let go of grief. helium balloons of it, my throat long like a swan’s but knotted like rope, i breathe through the cherry stem tangle of it all. im neither hurt nor damaged, just bruised like an apple dropped dropped dropped. i drink milk from the carton, slam the fridge door shut and hope i don’t smash the eggs. every single poem i wrote was a tether. a lighthouse. spare batteries. my poems were prayers when nobody was listening, not even god. and now? now there are open fields and mornings where it feels like my grapefruit lungs are full of hope. there is the shape of my hands and there is the bridge i visit when it’s empty, the city i watch thrumming around me. now? i live the life i never dared to hope for. i dreamed about it the way we dream about having sex with mermaids; cute fantasy so out of grasp. i dreamed about it the way you dreamed about being able to walk on water like one of those insects. every single poem was a dream. but now i am living it. what i mean to say is, i looked at the sky from a closed window for so long. i was in a cardboard box. now i am in a meadow. now i no longer look at the sky; i unfurl my wings and i fly right into it.

110, 110  // div @ antigoneblue

#words #writing #quote #free verse #spilled ink #coming of age #queer poetry #growing up #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #i am not tagging beyond this #either it takes off or it doesnt! #hope everyone is doing well and staying safe <3

[antigoneblue]

you are every age you have ever been right up to this point; every single digit, all the teens, everything combined. you have ONE TASK to do before you can sleep but you won’t do it. you’re not built right. there’s a thing in your wrists and it glows florescent when the lights dim down. we fill the bathtub to the brim and get in with our clothes still on, the water like a blanket. i know my scales are growing in, my gills are widening as they branch out. i cross days off the calendar and eat cabbages whole, without chewing. you’re flirting with me over text message, or maybe not. i can never tell, but this is veering towards some direction and i’m okay wherever we end up. there’s a flower garden down the road, and you’re adjusting your mask, and i’m going to get the vaccine the moment i can, and meanwhile on the other side of this planet we all live on together, the sun hasn’t even come out yet.

fake it ‘til you make it,  or, alternatively: break it  // div @ antigoneblue

#words #writing #quote #free verse #life #falling in love #queer poetry #poems about love #spilled ink #i have no idea how to tag anything #i just toss it into the void and hope for the best #coming of age #surrealism #love #growing up #literature #my writing #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr

[antigoneblue]

Thought I’d control the narrative. Make it a fun event. Moving out; looking at the lights, looking at furniture. Everything’s great and I’m moving to the next stage of my life! Sometimes I get sad and I spin it the other way around; my parents kicked me out –  aren’t you sorry for me? Shouldn’t we spend a moment to grieve? Take a heart shaped piece of pink tissue and blow your nose in it. Nothing to see here, just me curled up in the backseat of a car, crying. Sixteen and twenty two are the same age. But the truth is the saddest, it’s me picking myself up again and again. Staying and looking for a horizon but it’s the flat end of a sea. Nothing peaks upwards here. So, here’s the truth. Moving out: I kicked myself out. I kick myself out. I put my body in a suitcase & convince myself not to throw it away. There is the sea, the breeze of it in my face. All these years alive and nothing to show for it. I’m a kaleidoscope; you say I’m beautiful but hey, I’m just broken glass, gleaming. Too many sharp edges. I don’t fold easy or quiet anymore. I am a haunting. So here’s the truth: I am controlling the narrative. And I am a coward, such a coward. But I stand a little straighter, do my tie crooked. I am brave, too. My spine is made of gold.

i am an angel, 2021 version // div @ antigoneblue 

#spilled ink #writing #poets on tumblr #posting to be a bit more accountable #my life - growing up so far #has been a series of me holding on #and i think like. it has to lead somewhere #im pretty determined to get my own happy ending #anyway! #ok 2 rb #encouraged to rb actually #make me go viral i dare you #LKDKLGHKLHFG H anyway ! hope everyone's doing well #sending good vibes & all that !

[antigoneblue]

regressing into high school again, but this time a little better, smearing lipstick and glitter, twining a strand of hair around a finger, brittle, before the inevitable snap. everything is an inevitable snap; a cascade of hunger, a moment of glory, the song in my throat and the shape of my hands, the dreams of a boy and everything else falling into place to unveil the ultimate tragedy. when i wake up i remember being fifteen, but i fall asleep with an itch crawling my skin and the realisation that i can’t unbecome or go back to any previous times, that however terrible my life is, i am tethered here. in another universe maybe i’d share cigarette smoke or get high in the gaps between classes, put raspberry jam on my bread like i did when i was sixteen and the world was so cruel, wear shirts too big for me and laugh too loud, like a stranger to sadness. right now it’s like singing along to a song you don’t know the lyrics to, dancing a dance to which you don’t know the steps. i’m small and i have a tendency for cruelty. i am the knife edge and the stab and the melting slab of butter, all at once. new year, new me, same old year, same old me, nothing really matters anyway. i’m here, and here i am. all i know how to do is survive.

what’s the story (morning glory), antigoneblue 

#really going through it right now #spilled ink #free verse #poets on tumblr #poetry #ok 2 rb #queer poetry #words #ive not been on the scene for so long that i no longer know the right tags #*shrug emoji*

[antigoneblue]

you’re up on stage and the lights are hitting you. you’re up on stage and you’re holding someone else’s football jersey and you’re being swallowed up by a sea of eyes. with gentle and delicate hands you press your palms against your co-star’s cheeks, dreaming of the way it feels for everything to fit together like this. you’re on stage and you’re not in love, but only half of you is acting, as always. he puts his forehead against yours and the curtain drops as it’s supposed to. you’ll smear your make-up when you cry in the wings, inevitably. soft flood of music, everywhere. i miss being a theatre kid when i was fifteen and depressed and it was july and the whole world was looking through me. i miss the shape of it, the way it held me under and distorted my weak & fumbling heart. you’re on stage, and there’s a boy right across you. when you touch him you feel fireworks. you don’t have to pretend. when he looks away, he breaks your heart. now, you have to pretend that you feel nothing, that your heart is unbroken. and so: you do.

“diamonds by rihanna is playing while youre crying in the backseat of the taxi” by antigoneblue

#don't ask me i don't know either #just feeling a really specific gay feeling #poetry #poets on tumblr #spilled ink #words #free verse #theatre kids #happy new year everybody!! #i would post a new year poem but tbh this year is rlly underwhelming #and i don't feel the vibes just yet #so ! have this #an ode to my brief stint as a theatre kid #or whatever

[antigoneblue]

(miscellaneous holiday poem) // antigoneblue 

this is not the best thing i’ve written or anything, but i don’t know how else to say it. happy holidays! (transcript under the cut)

it’s december, end of the year, and this is me / no longer 17 and not half as bitter age really does make a man mellow / i’m a buttercup, golden claws still out but under the gloves tonight it’s december and if you’ve hated holidays always this is / me saying / i see you / i remember it / it’s december and if you just want to get away but don’t think you can / i see you / i remember it i grew up with the grainy sound of badly tuned guitars / in my throat my hands / haven’t aged much past 2015 / but we all knew it would end like this it’s december & maybe you hate christmas / just like i used to / it never goes well for me / love & family looks great in the movies but life isn’t a movie / or at least / not a feel-good one maybe christmas puts you on edge / just like it does to me so if it’s december and you’re walking on eggshells / you’re not alone if it’s december & you’re dreaming of leaving home keep your head high / the end of the year doesn’t need to mean something who cares about the passage of time / you’re still alive if it’s december & you feel like you’ve been cheated out of happiness like life is a joke at your expense / it won’t always be like this here is another year you survived / here is the last week & soon you will be older / & it doesn’t have to be a tragedy / you will be older, and you will move into spaces where you can leave the sadness behind.

#writing #poets on tumblr #poetry #holidays #spilled ink

[antigoneblue]

it’s winter in november and my hands are feeling like the monsoon. i listen to “longview” by green day, watch as the power dims out. you’re somewhere else, and everyone i love is far enough away from me that it’s like being underwater. i am alone, and it’s an almond in the pit of my mouth, flowers left by the bathroom sink, something we don’t ever talk about. it’s winter and none of my clothes are warm enough. the weather forecast calls this spell of cold irregular. all i know is that my city has a secret. i go out, once, for unavoidable business, and i remember how much i love the feeling of it – flights of stairs, sun on my hands, talking to people. even the mask on my face can’t take away the aliveness of it. danger remains real though, like a battery that’s always five seconds way from draining out. ‘don’t write about coronavirus,’ you tell me. i stare at my computer screen, baffled. what else is there to write about? the weather’s curved down, death rates are going to curve up, but i still have internet connection, so i broadcast my anxiety like it actually matters, and go on youtube to watch videos of strangers singing.

we all need human connection / antigoneblue 

#poets on tumblr #poetry #spilled ink #ok 2 rb #words #free verse #coronavirus #covid mention #isolation #anxiety #death mention #weather #this poem is. #i don't know i think it's an exercise in honesty

[antigoneblue]

so let’s say i am a hollow doll, an empty neck, and the world is still spinning, the world is still ours. you lean against the banister; i drink from the bottle just because i can. my body is light like air but hyperbolic and shiny. every band-aid in my pocket is a contingency plan. somewhere inside me, there lives a seven-year-old still. let’s say i am better at dealing with things, not as much of a peach, not really anything except a fork covered in whipped cream and honey, biscuit crumbs and raspberry jam. how long will you go on eating the thing you’re allergic to? i swallow and it sounds like a clock ticking. you laugh, and it sounds like the rattle of batteries in a broken tv remote. outside my bedroom window, there are birds chirping; there are worlds we are not a part of. yes, i still believe in the universe, despite everything that got us here. there’s a sort of betrayal in cosmic inevitability that i started expecting a long time ago, and being myself, i know how to face it. i put more orange juice in my drink, add excess sugar to my chai. my body is a machine and i keep it running. meanwhile, the sun rises and sets, rises and sets, again and again. there is not a damn thing in this world that is waiting for me.

1059, antigoneblue

#poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #ok 2 rb #words #spilled ink #free verse #i don't remember any writing tags and i don't care im just throwing this to the wolves #it's a bit rough / unedited #but it feels like the right kind of work to put out at this point #gonna cross post onto wordpress right now #and instagram later this week probs with an edit