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#blue's poetry
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“Trapped”
Stone Butch Blues - Leslie Feinberg
@/lilboyblueish on Instagram
Poem by Keaton St. James (@boykeats)
I/Me/Myself - Will Wood
We Both Laughed In Pleasure by Lou Sullivan
cis people asking cis questions by Silas Denver Melvin (@sweatermuppet)
Tomboy Survival Guide by Ivan Coyote
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firstfullmoon · 7 months
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Megan Fernandes, from “Fabric in Tribeca,” in Good Boys
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I've Endured, Now What?
Blue Iris - Mary Oliver / So This Is All I Will Ever Be? - Fatima Aamer Bilal / Vive, Vive - Traci Brimhall
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snarksandkisses · 1 year
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anteomnia · 4 months
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just endlessly thinking about blue eye samurai.
thinking about how akemi, taigen, and mizu are if a coin had three sides or maybe just the two and mizu is the bridge of metal between them.
akemi being the ideal image for women, for the life they endure. she was simultaneously a princess, a prostitute, and a prisoner. her entire life was men making decisions for her, even the ones that had good intentions, and she believed her deepest desire was freedom. it still is, but she has been revealed to this heinous predicament of her gender, and she’s realized that to reach true freedom as a woman is to be the bird in the cage, to play nice and to earn the love of a man until he buys her a bigger cage and a bigger cage until he trusts her not to fly away. and it'll never be true freedom, but it will come with power. it'll come with the freedom of only one master rather than many.
taigen being the ideal image of a man. not all powerful, but not weak. he had a taste of what it'd be to succeed, and when it was taken from him, that easy success, he mistook it for his honor. he hunted mizu down to kill him, and instead he saved him. he saved him and saved him and he came closer to killing mizu when they were on the cliff's edge, and just when he gets to the point where he may actually fight mizu, he's tortured for information on him. he is tortured. Literally tortured within an inch of his life, enduring such a heinous violence, and he refuses to break. this man was a fight, was the torturer, and the victim of his torturing could've been his salvation from pain but he refused. mizu gave back taigen's honor but not by fighting him.
akemi wanted freedom and learned she would need power to have it.
taigen wanted power and learned that the violence that came with it was infinite and dishonorable.
and then there's mizu. mizu who wants revenge, wants acceptance. arguably the same things as them both. mizu wants acceptance, the freedom of living and the freedom to love and be loved. mizu wants revenge, which follows after violence and power, to get said acceptance. she thinks she must do both, have both, to live peacefully, and she's blatant about how she will not live without either.
she's given acceptance with the blacksmith, her "mother," her husband, but she sees the flecks of avoidance in it.
the blacksmith will not hear of her true gender. her "mother" will not acknowledge the crime of her birth. her husband can't find tolerance for the violence within her, the man of her.
and so she has to balance the woman and man of her, the ronin and the bride. taigen and akemi. and it's meeting mizu that they start to unravel their own identities.
mizu, who is both, and akemi and taigen who thought themselves one but turned out to be neither.
god.
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metamorphesque · 1 year
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— Maggie Nelson, Bluets
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elk64 · 1 year
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Water dragon doing their stuff
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myfakeplasticlove13 · 4 months
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This is about my best friend, who I love more than anything in the world, who I would look for first in a room full of people I love. My most loyal companion, my other half, my love for you is true-blue
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californiasfreak · 2 months
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Blue banisters a poetic masterpiece
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adriancm · 5 months
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It was neither fate nor destiny, but manifestation.
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gavas-world · 3 months
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People are oceans. You cannot know them by their surface
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apoemaday · 3 months
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Funeral Blues (Stop All the Clocks)
by W.H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.
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firstfullmoon · 3 months
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Caylin Capra-Thomas, “Search History Sad”
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joytri · 1 month
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Now that I'm free to be myself, who am I?
Mary Oliver, "Blue Iris." Devotions
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adrasteiax · 1 year
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When will you have a little pity for every soft thing that walks through the world, yourself included?
Mary Oliver, from Pen And Paper And A Breath Of Air in “Blue Pastures”
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