#Anti poetry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

awritersrambling · 1 year

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#vent poetry #strange poetry #my poetry #poetry #anti poetry

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eternallyfleeting · 1 year

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lost in my head, lost my way home

im trying to find

home, the place to rest and hide

from the busyness of the world

reside, in peace alone

but not lonely.

filled the ache with vegan ice cream

can’t tolerate lactose

my hopes burning

in an empty pot on the stove

dangerous, gaseous

i gaslight myself

— precious

#art #anti poetry #poetry #writing #musings #musings on life #musings on home #mental health #mindfulness #presence #spiritual

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genderdrift · 4 months

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Thanks to Nat Raum

& Jake, the Anti-Literary Magazine for selecting this poem for the ekphrasis biennale. This poem, “A Poem With A Painting. A Poem With A Dead Poet, A Poem With a Hole” braids several threads together, and is a bit more conversational than a lot of my work.

View On WordPress

#Anti poetry #ekphrasis #Jake

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applestyx · 5 months

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honestly i wish they would throttle me. O superman as my final track, best I be snuffed from. light all together. the ache for extended in my chest reaches for my fellow but i feed him on my memory, on my hope, on my blood for anything else would surely condemn me to hell

#word #diary #prise #esq #anti poetry #poet #ache #heartache #misplaced #burning #hurt #pain #aes

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starlightshadowsworld · 6 months

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For me to write poetry that isn't political

I must listen to the birds

and in order to listen to the birds

the war planes must be silent

- Marwan Makhoul, Palestinian Lebanese poet.

#marwan makhoul #palestine #palestine poetry #Lebanese #Palestinian #free palestine #free gaza #gaza strip #poetry #palestinian art #anti israel #anti zionisim

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fixing-bad-posts · 1 year

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[Image description: a tumblr text post, edited whiteout-poetry style to read, 'I'd rather die than say "God save the King," because hes not better than the general public. the lady at the soup kitchen down the street, I will always hail. The King? he's evil.']

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re: the coronation of princess diana's ex-husband

#fixingbadposts #fixing-bad-posts #fuck the monarchy #fuck the coronation #anti monarchy #whiteout poetry

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saltair-and-palemoonlight · 1 month

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it’s me. hi. i’m the problem. it’s me.

@padfoot-lupin77/@ryebreadgf/why am i like this? - orla gartland/the letters of virginia woolf/@dreamer-but-realist/anti-hero - taylor swift/sylvia plath/@jaggedjawjosh /@body-to-flame/making the bed - olivia rodrigo/anti-hero - taylor swift

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wanderingmind867 · 2 years

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I've read LOTR and The Hobbit before, but I have never read any of Tolkien's other stuff before. The silmarillion(?) bored me to the point that I had to give up, and I never bothered to look at any of his other books. If they're anything like poetry however, I will probably never understand them. I don't understand poetry at all, and I've never managed to learn. Meter and syllable emphasis are all nonsense to me.

#lotr #the hobbit #literature #fantasy #poetry #in my view #poetry isn't poetry unless it rhymes #i can't understand it otherwise #my thoughts #neurodivergent #asd #anti poetry #anti shakespeare #anti haiku #there's a whole bunch of things i don't like #simply because they confuse me

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narducciredelmira · 1 day

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#anti ana #honeyjoy #emoji story #tall woman #bow tie #loveurself #snapcode #celaeno kin #queer poetry

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baileyjayy1 · 14 days

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Your girlfriend with something extra. 🍆 you like?

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eternallyfleeting · 11 months

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flow series — murmurations

nature’s instinctive intelligence

communion through communication

an enquiry into time and space

#art #anti poetry #poetry #art print #mindfulness #musings #musings on life #writing #painting #charcoal #newspaper #murmuration #flow series #starling #art community #artists on tumblr #women artists

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gray-ace-space · 2 months

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being bigender: a glitter text poem

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hussyknee · 5 months

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youtube

Video description:

Preface reading: "Rafeef Ziadah, 12/11/11, London". The video begins showing a young woman on a stage, her hair cut in a sharp, short bob, wearing a gauzy black dress with red accents to match the stage wall behind her. She speaks into a mic in a blend of Canadian and Palestinian accents:

Transcript: "I'll start with this poem I wrote. This poem—when the bombs were dropping on Gaza I was the media spokesperson for the coalition, doing a lot of the organizing, and we'd stayed up to about six o'clock in the morning perfecting every soundbite and by the end of—you know most Palestinians get tired and start pronouncing our "P"s as "B"s so we could become "Balestinians" by the end of the day. So I was practicing my "P"s all night, and the next morning one of the journalists asked me, "Don't you think it would all be fine if you just stopped teaching your children to hate?"

I did not insult the person, I was very polite, but I wrote this poem as a response to these types of questions we Palestinians always get."

Today, my body was a TV’d massacre. Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits. Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits filled enough with statistics to counter measured response; and I perfected my English and I learned my UN resolutions—But still, he asked me, "Ms. Ziadah, don’t you think that everything would be resolved if you would just stop teaching so much hatred to your children? Pause. I look inside of me for strength to be patient but patience is not at the tip of my tongue as the bombs drop over Gaza. Patience has just escaped me. Pause. Smile. "We teach life, sir." Rafeef, remember to smile. Pause. "We teach life, sir. We Palestinians teach life after they have occupied the last sky. We teach life after they have built their settlements and apartheid walls, after the last skies. We teach life, sir." But today, my body was a TV’d massacre made to fit into sound-bites and word limits. And— "Just give us a story, a human story. You see, this is not political. We just want to tell people about you and your people so give us a human story. Don’t mention that word: “apartheid” and “occupation”— This is not political. You have to help me as a journalist to help you tell your story which is not a political story—" Today, my body was a TV’d massacre. "How about you give us a story of a woman in Gaza who needs medication?" "How about you? Do you have enough bone-broken limbs to cover the sun? Hand me over your dead and give me the list of their names in one thousand two hundred word limits." Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits and move those that are desensitized to terrorist blood. But they felt sorry. They felt sorry for the cattle over Gaza. So, I give them UN resolutions and statistics and we condemn and we deplore and we reject and— These are not two equal sides: occupier and occupied. And a hundred dead, two hundred dead, and a thousand dead. And between that, war crime and massacre, I vent out words and smile (not exotic), smile (not terrorist) And I recount, I recount a hundred dead, two hundred dead, a thousand dead. Is anyone out there? Will anyone listen? I wish I could wail over their bodies. I wish I could just run barefoot in every refugee camp and hold every child, cover their ears so they wouldn’t have to hear the sound of bombing for the rest of their life the way I do. Today, my body was a TV’d massacre And let me just tell you, there’s nothing your UN resolutions have ever done about this. And no sound-bite—no sound-bite I come up with, no matter how good my English gets—no sound-bite-no sound-bite-no sound-bite-no sound-bite, will bring them back to life, no sound-bite will fix this. We teach life, sir. We teach life, sir. We Palestinians wake up every morning to teach the rest of the world LIFE. Sir.

End transcription.

I think this twitter thread gives some necessary political context for the poem, so you can really understand the cruelty and barbarity of that question, and why Western media insistently shies away from "political" answers:

Cursory Google check corroborates all the info except for the number of peace settlements Israel's rejected. I can't find the exact number off the first page of Google and my head is throbbing too much to look deeper. I'm going to leave that for y'all to fact check.

(I went and looked Rafeef Ziadah up to check whether she's still alive (because that's what we do with Palestinians now) and she's safe in London, teaching Politics and Public Policy at King's College. You can find the rest of her poetry here.)

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starlightshadowsworld · 6 months

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Palestine poetry: We teach life, sir.

Today, my body was a TV’d massacre.

Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits.

Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits filled enough with statistics to counter measured response.

And I perfected my English and I learned my UN resolutions.

But still, he asked me, Ms. Ziadah, don’t you think that everything would be resolved if you would just stop teaching so much hatred to your children?

Pause.

I look inside of me for strength to be patient but patience is not at the tip of my tongue as the bombs drop over Gaza.

Patience has just escaped me.

Pause. Smile.

We teach life, sir.

Rafeef, remember to smile.

Pause.

We teach life, sir.

We Palestinians teach life after they have occupied the last sky.

We teach life after they have built their settlements and apartheid walls, after the last skies.

We teach life, sir.

But today, my body was a TV’d massacre made to fit into sound-bites and word limits.

And just give us a story, a human story.

You see, this is not political.

We just want to tell people about you and your people so give us a human story.

Don’t mention that word “apartheid” and “occupation”.

This is not political.

You have to help me as a journalist to help you tell your story which is not a political story.

Today, my body was a TV’d massacre.

How about you give us a story of a woman in Gaza who needs medication?

How about you?

Do you have enough bone-broken limbs to cover the sun?

Hand me over your dead and give me the list of their names in one thousand two hundred word limits.

Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits and move those that are desensitized to terrorist blood.

But they felt sorry.

They felt sorry for the cattle over Gaza.

So, I give them UN resolutions and statistics and we condemn and we deplore and we reject.

And these are not two equal sides: occupier and occupied.

And a hundred dead, two hundred dead, and a thousand dead.

And between that, war crime and massacre, I vent out words and smile “not exotic”, “not terrorist”.

And I recount, I recount a hundred dead, a thousand dead.

Is anyone out there?

Will anyone listen?

I wish I could wail over their bodies.

I wish I could just run barefoot in every refugee camp and hold every child, cover their ears so they wouldn’t have to hear the sound of bombing for the rest of their life the way I do.

Today, my body was a TV’d massacre

And let me just tell you, there’s nothing your UN resolutions have ever done about this.

And no sound-bite, no sound-bite I come up with, no matter how good my English gets, no sound-bite, no sound-bite, no sound-bite, no sound-bite will bring them back to life.

No sound-bite will fix this.

We teach life, sir.

We Palestinians wake up every morning to teach the rest of the world life, sir.

- Rafeef Ziadah, Palestinian poet and human rights activist.

#free palestine #palestine #pro palestine #poetry #poet #Rafeef Ziadah #Palestine poetry #Palestine art #anti israel #anti zionisim

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fixing-bad-posts · 6 months

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