Desperate to make life a little more poetic,
To make it a little more tolerable.
Desperate to live.
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POEMS FROM AN EMAIL EXCHANGE by hanif abdurraqib [ID in ALT]
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laura palmer graduates by amy woolard
I can’t love them if their hands aren’t all tore up
From something, guitar strings, kitchen knives & grease
Burns, heaving the window ACs onto their crooked old
Sills come June. Fighting back. That porchlight’s browned
Inside with moth husks again & I can’t climb a ladder
To save my life, i.e., the world spins. Even when it’s lit,
It’s half ash. Full-drunk under a half-moon & I’m dazed
We’re all still here. Most of us, least. For the one & every
Girl gone, I sticker gold stars behind my front teeth so
I can taste just how good we were. I swear I can’t
Love them if they can’t fathom why an unlit ambulance
On a late highway means good luck. I hold my cigarette-
Smoking arm upright like I’m trying to keep blood
From rushing to a cut. What’s true is my shift’s over &
I’m here with you now & I’m wrapped up tight
On the steps like a top sheet like the morning paper
Before it’s morning. Look up & smile. What does it matter
That the stars we see are already dead. If that’s the case well
Then the people are too. Alive is a little present I
Give myself once a day. Baby, don’t think I won’t doll
Up & look myself fresh in the eyes, in the vermilion
Pincurl of my still heart & say: It’s happening again.
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“What about Tolya? Aren't you worried about how he'll find us now?”
“Unless he starts reciting epic poetry to Zoya, he'll be fine.”
Lewis Tan as Tolya Yul-Bataar & Sujaya Dasgupta as Zoya Nazyalensky
Shadow and Bone season 2 (2023 ) | E05
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Omar El Akkad's forward to the Annotated Arabian Nights: Tales from 1001 Nights (trans. Yasmine Seale)
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i've been listening to Can't Catch Me Now for days now.
it is my entire personality. it has consumed me. i-
the beauty, the rage, the sadness. i am BANGIng my head against the wall, do you understand me? 2023 is for the dystopic girlie reinassance and i feel so ALIVE.
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I'm obsessed with people who're obsessed with art, painting, music, dance, reading, poetries, poems, books, cats, moon, stars their pretty pretty obsessions.
They're rare
Where are they ? Raise your hands i wanna see those cute people who have an obsession like me.
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Wedding Vows
You are my Paris.
You are my New Orleans.
Baby, you are my Home.
I'll warm myself with the embers of your rage,
I'll keep your lips from ever losing their smile,
I will stand with you in life, death, and after death.
I will be your conscience when you are blinded by betrayal
I will be your shield when you have no fight left in you,
May the magic in you and me witness the legacy we build.
– Evyona Gray
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Deserved
-
You hold me down,
Forcing the medicine I created
Past my lips.
It burns in an unfamiliar way,
All the way.
Exhausted,
My bones weeping with concern,
I swallow.
I swallow more.
I take the silver spoon into my mouth
With a sleepy, hopeful gaze.
Is this what love is?
I hope you're okay.
Just be okay.
x
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i think what makes louis so fascinating to me as an unreliable narrator is that there are vanishingly few times when he actually lies, and even then they're lies of omission more than anything. in fact, the most straightforward lies he tells aren't actually in his narration but in the present ("you're in your 20's rashid" "he stuffs himself with honey and pineapple"), and they're for the sake of not blowing his lover's cover and psychosexually tormenting daniel. when inconsistencies pop up in the narration, it's rarely because louis is consciously lying. it's because his memory is, like anyone's, imperfect. none of us can remember exactly what happened to us a month ago, let alone decades ago. we all filter the past through the lens of our own experience. we would all editorialize and omit and forget things if we tried to tell someone our entire life's story. the only difference is that a) the psychological stakes for louis are sky-high because of all the trauma he's trying to bury and b) he has an investigative journalist picking apart the inconsistencies. some of those inconsistencies are minor and born of forgetfulness (the first "was it raining?") and some of them are astronomical and born of repression (the second "was it raining?") but they all, without almost no exception, stem from the liquid nature of memory rather than from any deliberate intent to mislead. and when louis does mislead, he's not so much misleading daniel or the audience as he is misleading himself.
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Me staring at test results: It makes so much sense for her, but if I don't specify or elaborate, then we end up with the fanon take. Ugh, how do I easily explain that if you look at the word 'sex' through a much more old-fashioned lens instead of the modern one, that you'll get a vastly different picture of it?
/takes angycat.png typing to my tags
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day eleven – longer, dan fogelberg
@klaineccfanficlibrary
Spettacolare
Through all the years that have gone and
all the ones yet to come.
My love for you will remain
strong and true
just like the first time our fingers touched
on that stairway and
our lips met
in that common room.
Through all the seasons and
all the changes
my love for you will never fade.
For in my heart, you will always stay
my love,
my soulmate,
my everything.
So let the years fly by
for our love will always survive.
As long as you are by my side
forever and
always,
my dear,
my life.
Through the years
as the fire starts to mellow;
burning lines in the book of our lives;
though the binding cracks and
the pages start to yellow.
It's always like the start
of a warm summer breeze,
whispering secrets through the trees
tellin' I'll be in love with you
forever.
Just you and me.
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❤️ Whumpril IV - Swaying ❤️
Poems from the perspective of Caretaker.
Oh, will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you fall?
The world all holds its breath to watch you sway.
No, boys. A slow song’s coming on, that’s all.
I won’t, I will not, watch him die this way.
May I cut in and steal this dance from Death?
With my hand on your waist, yours ‘round my neck,
with drumming, nervous hearts and halting breath,
let me lead you, swaying, from this wreck.
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TLSP meltdown of the day: just... These lyrics.
Hotel room Holy Bible
Hotel room free love revival
Baby it's a never ending spiral
'Looks a little bit like Paris
thank you for your attention.
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I love Wayne Visser for accidentally writing the most Kalluzeb-coded poems I've ever seen:
It's really giving Bahryn to me. Gentle embraces in the midst of pain especially; there are so many moments in the Honorable Ones (besides the obvious life-sparing one) when Zeb is clearly putting the fact that Kallus is injured ahead of the fact that he's an enemy, and he's not so rough with him as you might expect. And of course it was a night of anguish for both of them, as they recounted the most scarring moments of their lives side-by-side with their enemy, in the freezing cold, but there was the contrast of hope, of understanding, just like the contrasts in the poem.
This is giving post-Zero Hour. A whole lot. Courage blossoms in the midst of fear—I mean come on, Kallus just turned his back on his entire life up to this point to join a rebellion that may or may not succeed, but he still did it. And now he and Zeb are no longer mortal rivals, but friends and compatriots, and whatever healing either of them has yet to do can be done together, as two wounded warriors fighting for a better future.
This is just...very Kalluzeb. This is them. Their lives during the Rebellion, when they're not always together on the same missions; their lives after the Rebellion, when they've found peace and they have to adjust to not being at war anymore; their lives together at all knowing they used to be enemies, but also that they were somehow pulled together by the Ashla for better things.
The poem is called Kismet. And how could they believe that it took anything less than an act of fate to bring them together, with all the history they had? How much more blessed could their union be, if destiny itself worked on their behalf?
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