nameless-poet

[nameless-poet]

   — Leonard Cohen, Selected Poems

[text ID: I confess I meant to grow/ wings and lose my mind/ I confess that I've/ forgotten what for/ Why wings and a lost mind]

#spilled ink #reblog

[nameless-poet]

What a cruel plan. What cruel gods…

I will not spend a day in someone else’s heaven, if it was bought with blood.

If this is blasphemy, I’ll gladly take eternal punishment, over anything you can offer.

All you offer is bathed in red.

#words words words #spilled ink #antitheism

[nameless-poet]

Dear Poet

Is there hope? signed, a scared teenager.

The fact that you ask means you have it. It may be small, dying and cracked, Full of dread, Almost dead, But hope dies last Of all things living, Hope will outlive them And die only then, When all things have gone.

Ask if you need, But know in the question Lies hope in its slumber Yearning to waken.

#poetry #words words words #this was inspired by two things #an ask that Neil got a few weeks ago #and the german saying #“die hoffnung stirbt zuletzt” #Hope is last to die #it technichally means that people try impossible things #even when it has no reason to succeed #but i like the idea that hope literally dies last #so yeah

[nameless-poet]

Unmarked

The colour of autumn dries here, And the trees stand dread silent. Dust is the body laid to rest below the earth.

Flowers bleed on other stones. Red and white as roses go, And grey is the path that lies ahead

Life, it seems, has departed This heath of death and marble houses But, brown and dull, still, fungi grow From mourning earth

#poetry #words words words #is this the first untitled poem i post #maybe #i don't remember #cw death

[nameless-poet]

For the Empire

You were left, home, all alone, And we left home, not alone. You were floating there on solid ground And we were anchored out there, in empty space, interstellar, to each other. You drew us, return and so we did. We begged you, come, for love, we said. But still you stayed, and what you said "I'm a soldier...

#poetry #words words words #the bad batch #I wrote this at the end of S1 #clone trooper crosshair #I had so many emotions #at that time #just #crosshair's character is such a terrible #beautiful thing #I like that they let him actually do horrible things #before starting his redemption arc #he has so much he needs to come back from

[nameless-poet]

But that poetry is still important! Poetry is about emotion, expressing and sharing what cannot be properly said, through form and breaking the rules of language.

I'm apparently in the "writing emotional yet mediocre poetry" stage of a breakup 🙃

[nameless-poet]

Unending the world

Staring at the matches and gasoline, The itch in my fingers and all the lucid pain Want me to take them in my hands. It would be so easy so set the blaze. It would not be hard, to watch it burn.

But my hands grab a watering can Because burning the earth Doesn't grow flowers, and My garden can feed more, Than ashes ever could.

My hands grab mortar and brick, Because smoke doesn't keep out Any rain or cold or wind. Come in, there's enough space And warmth to go around.

My hands grab wood that would be Useless charred and make a table and plates and bowls from clay. Sit with me, there's fresh bread, warm soup, and conversation to be had.

#poetry #words words words #i know i just wrote a poem about cleansing apocalypse #but that's a lie #it might be a nice fantasy #at times #but in reality #it would just be horrible #in fiction it is catharsis #but in life it is nothing but pain #real progress #good change #that only happens if WE do things #if WE help eachother #and make a world we can bear to live in

[nameless-poet]

Another End of the World

Some days, I want a match, A cannister of gasoline, and a sword, So I might end the world, Make it burn again like it did To end the Permian: My own Siberian Traps, Humans like synapsid ancestors up and up in flame and smoke Death is yellow, orange, red. I walk before the flame, hands cold, eyes bloody, and a sword full of boiling tears.

My Sword. Your skin. Split throat. Breath. Blood. Death. End.

I am sorry. It's over. Rest.

#words words words #poetry #we're doing peace conflict and violence in polisci right now #and I have #feelings #which sometimes I'd rather not #I cried about war crimes #and my english teacher #had to tell me it's better to cry #than not to care at all #even if it doesn't feel like that sometimes #but feelings also write poetry #so have it

[nameless-poet]

Saint of Snakes and Women

"Angel of death and vengeance, Hear my prayer, sing of blood and stone, Won't you petrify this 'hero's' bones, They will call us villains and monsters too, But you will be goddess to me, and that must do."

"Angel of death and vengeance, I have no one to turn to, so I pray to you, The fire has come, and love has fled, The man has hurt me, and I have bled, Come to me with your halo of snakes, Avenge my innocence and all that I lack."

"Angel of death and vengence, You are saint in my eye, Sing of stone, destruction, death, I humbly ask your power and wrath, I fear for my life and I am alone, Oh woman, oh goddess, his corpse be your throne"

#words words words #poetry #Medusa my beloved #i saw this painting of medusa #Medusa 2 by Julie Dillon #and I loved the way the snakes #looked like a halo #that feeling turned into a poem about #asking for help #murdering men #who did evil things to women

[nameless-poet]

Scratch that I want to scream

I want to cry,

Scratch that, I Want to scream. I’m not quite sure why. Maybe in fear. I’ve been part of two active shooter drills in my life. One in a place where actual gun violence was never an option and one here. Back there I was 10 and my biggest worry was that I would be Tagger on the playground that day. Here I was still a kid, but I was older, and I was terrified, but not as much as the ten year olds crying in their teacher’s arms as we congregated in the parking lot after the drill. They are kids, their worries should not center on cowering in metallic rain under their classroom tables, but on who would be Tagger today. And I want to cry.

Scratch that I want to scream and I’m not quite sure why, Maybe because I am angry. I’m angry that little children lay down their lives for adults’ second amendment rights, to bear arms. how many lives are they willing to sacrifice in protection of their guns. I am angry at thoughts and prayers because the gods above and below have never stepped in to prevent our massacres. Only we can prevent our massacres and those in power won’t. Because they don’t realize that we live in a society, not an economy, and that the wealth they get from gun lobbies can’t pay for lost lives. And I want to cry

Scratch that I want to scream and I’m not quite sure why, maybe because I’m confused. I’ve been looking at numbers. They follow  hard and fast rules and they don’t change, but somehow I still keep being surprised. April 20th 1999 Columbine, 15 dead.  At least 55 in 8 years until April 16th 2007 Virginia Tech, 33 dead. At least 41 in 5 years until December 14th 2012 Sandy Hook, 27 dead. At least 172 in 10 years until May 24th 2022 Robb Elementary school, 22 dead. That’s at least 365 bodies — one for every day in a year — on classroom floors since April 19th 1999 a day before columbine. And I want to cry.

Scratch that, I want to scream. And I’m not quite sure why, but maybe it’s guilt. That’s ironic, right? We feel survivor’s guilt for Shootings elsewhere. I’ve been thinking about who I would die for. I keep my phone on silent 24/7 because the day I forget, might end with all my friends dead. My teachers keep the staplers close again and tell us we can only go to the bathroom on break because every time their phone on their desk lights up, we light up with fear. No one pops the chips bag they got at the dollar store and no one plays soccer against the walls anymore. I carry a paper bird, it says the names of those who I love, what I am sorry for, and what I want the world to know if I die. And I want to cry.

Scratch that. I. Want. To. Scream. — silently, so the shooters can’t hear me

#words words words #not a poem #but maybe poetry #i wrote this quite a while ago #I am no longer living in the US #and not having to worry about guns is so wonderful #but its still important. #And it's only gotten worse

[nameless-poet]

Life goes on

as an idiom: "We still stand" A refrain as we are battered These lives are our own. Life goes on, Even when we think it shouldn't and at a thousand lurid places Terrible and fleeting Life goes on at the very least Life goes on.

Life goes on Wearing black masks under Blood red skies. Life goes on in the fire fueled by Smoky words and  lies. Life goes on In the oceans that Belong to Drowning whales And yet Life goes on.

Life goes on In Minds screaming for Our bodies to let go, To stop holding in our souls. Life goes on Even when some Wish death on others For loving wrong. And yet Life goes on.

Life goes on In the creekbeds, And the trenches dug by war, And the thousand scarred up Boys returning from afar. Life goes on in the silence That screams louder than words Of pain and bloodpainted Cratered and stained faces.

Life goes on And forever Goes on and on and on. What fills the silence long as this fragile heart is beating Life goes on As a mantra: "We are not defeated"

#poetry #words words words #life goes on #it doesn't always get better #sometimes it gets worse #but #we are not done yet

[nameless-poet]

Stay alive

Queer girl, Queer boy, Queer kid, don't die.

scream loud, powerful words, hold hands, build worlds love hard, stay strong love if just to break your bonds

you are here, living, child

live for them live for me live for no one just be

#poetry #words words words #lgbtq #lgbtqia #queer #pride #stay alive #please #we have to stay alive #they want us dead #but we can't give that to them #also #you deserve love #and a good life

[nameless-poet]

Storyteller

Storyteller, please, Braid and spin and weave Reality into a fabric Of brighter colors, Deeper nights, And milder pain. Tell us

Of wilder girls that run free With the woods In their hands and their hearts, Scratched skin, Tousled hair;

Of city witches enchanting Concrete jungles With flowers in red, in yellow, And in window boxes filled with magic young and old;

Of stormwind boys that dance On crushing waves, Skin sticky with spray, Run on the ocean And jump into space. Storyteller sew Our brightest fantasy Into a reality Of wilder forests, Bewitching cities And wind-buffed seas.

#poetry #words words words

[nameless-poet]

Woe on the page

One day we'll love and that day we die, And all will be better, away we will fly. One day we'll never have left our home, And on that one day we will move on We'll dance over mountains and grass in the rain. Oh, We will dance away all our pain. We'll be together in thundering storms. I'll hold your hand, and we will pass on

#poetry #words words words #this is based loosely on “die Seiten der Welt” by Kai Meyer #specifically one of the first scenes #where the cook and the groundskeeper get murdered #and they both love eachother #and see a meadow on a mountain #and it made me experience feelings #which caused me to write poetry

[nameless-poet]

Apotheosis

Have you ever seen a tree?

Like I did, the day I got new prescription glasses. Few things inspire idolatry Like a hundred reaching branches, And a hundred thousand leaves, And a million billion growing cells, Heartwood, Sapwood, Cambium, bark.

Gods, catch me in Apotheosis!

This is how omniscience feels; Every drop on every leaf, Every forest full of trees, Every speckle in your eye, Every star up in the sky.

A head full of epiphany. One second holds reality And a headache from too much.

#poetry #words words words #I wrote this for a poetry contest #the topic was surprise #I obviously didn't win #this poem is no really about surprises #to be fair #I do think it is better than the poem that actually won #but the topic definitely basically disqualified me #It's still one of my favorites though

[nameless-poet]

The Silence between

There upon the freckled sky The likeness of my life is cast And my shadow, unforgotten Will over the earth still pass. When so long ago I left The confines of earth behind, To carve my soul into the void Now for none but stars to find

#poetry #words words words #I am so fascinated with the duality of the goddess #desna #and her shaddow #the black butterfly #the silence between #like they are goddesses of the stars and the space between #art and night and dreams #one of them is very approachable #and the other is her shadow #who protects the world from the dark tapestry #I mean that's already poetry #it's so fun to write about

[nameless-poet]

Not quite yet

The best conversations happen in the doorway Where we linger to stretch the hours long.

"So" you say, and I know you mean to leave, So I take you to the door. We linger uncomfortably. One hand on the doorknob, I hold your jacket, And you tell me about when your nephew first cussed.

The seconds stretch there, in the doorway, Where the outside world tries its best to creep into ours.

But please let us linger on the threshold Before you leave. And when you do Let me move to open the door and whisper a secret. I stand there and watch you drive into the dark.

I stand there in the doorway, and our hours are so short. We stretch them where we can

One day will be the last time that you come into my house. And I hope that we can linger for a moment that's forever. I hope I get to see you, and that we don't say goodbye. You'll leave and I'll remember our best converstations

happened in the the doorway.

#poetry #words words words #I have been told this is a german thing #when there is a party #and you want to leave #you will say “so” #slap your thighs #and stand up to leave #then the host will get up to take you to the door #and if they like you #you will stand there for another half hour #all the best conversations happen then #we share the best secrets #when I was little #I never understood #but I think I get it now #One day will be the last time we meet #and we have to stretch the hours long #as long as we can