#still not any good with poetry

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME #there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing #and the writing is what i need to be doing #writeblr #this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to #edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol #i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!! #my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means #i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her) #hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong #i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet. #i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse #i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!! #i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO #i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness #and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it #im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us #i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer #and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art. #i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work #even if it means being miserable #but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.

[artharakka]

Beautiful, But Broken

#bg3 #tiefling #tw blood #c: Viivi #so I redid my bg3 character because I wasn't feeling durge that much. So now my sibling does durge and I regular tav Viivi #(changed her to tiefling for funs) #at least I meant to do regular tav but uhhhhh things have gone very unfortunately very fast #anyway. Viivi is an artist; she does painting sculpting poetry and some prose. Experimenting with this and that #unfortunately she is deaf which made making connections a bit hard in the fine arts world #fortunately she has a patreon with one very generous patron (she's fey warlock)✨ who has bestowed some gifts of charms for her #which have opened doors of many art galleries #She's not a fighter so although she is confident in her own lane she is also very aware of her mortality #so she avoided any fights she could #which might have saved her but also got her into the mess of her lifetime #you see she couldn't fight the entire goblin camp and their leaders. She would've just not survived that. So she convinced them #that she is a True Soul. She is good at convincing people. It worked. They thought she is on their side. Good #Halsin also though Viivi was on their side. Halsin attacked Viivi's party. Now Halsin is dead. #So Viivi and her group were still alone deep within enemy fort. Viivi made new plans. She frees the prisoner who says he will warn the grov #Good thinks Viivi now they know to flee. I will go to Minthara and tell we got the information from prisoner of the grove location #she will trust us and we walk off #when we get back to grove they have not fled and Minthara is at the gates #Minthara wants Viivi to sound the horn. Zevlor wants Viivi to sound the horn. Viivi asks Zevlor to please tell this plan in detail. #Zevlor says just blow the horn already. Viivi does that. Minthara thanks Viivi for leaving the gate open as planned #Zevlor does not thank Viivi for that. Viivi is confused as she did not leave the gate open. (for real the damn gate was left open) #So I did a Massacre. #now Karlach is gone Wyll is dead. Lae'zel is also dead #but apparently Minthara is ready to be very loving and sincere with Viivi. The most helpful person she has met in very long time. #Viivi might love her #so that is how she's doing.

[glasscheerwine]

Careless Talk-

He said its name once again

And with that I shall love it in the nights to come

I will see what he cannot

And I will cherish it for him

No other soul heard its name

No other soul would care

But careless talk turned into love

And I will let that be

Any words that lay unspoken

Will be whispered in its light

And I will gaze at the wonder that I do not care for

For a secret that I'll keep

I'll wish upon his safety

And say my final words

For if anything lay to smolder

I fear the fire might start again to spread

But for now,

Goodbye to a friend who will be unable to see what I saw

#poetry #love #words #the normal #you know how it is #he do kinda be a nerd #still not any good with poetry #we still have a long way to go #we are chilling

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

Spring is here , the true beginning of the year , the season where my soul reborns and blooms .

I have made some progress in terms of the person I am becoming, truly in all my honesty all that i have done is to stop caring for everything that once used to matter , the less I care about anything in particular the less I am bothered and the happier i stay. And i really hope everyone here is doing well and I appreciate all the love that was sent.

The problem is I care a lot about everything and i don't even get the bare minimum in return and when i do get it it's too late, so much time has passed by then ,when it comes by then i do not want or need it because it's the not care that came out of love it came out of their guilts. And the longer i wait for it to come by -the more I learn why I don't need it anymore .

I am slowly learning to value myself ,trying to put myself in a position where I can agree that i too deserve all the good things and love even on the days when i have nothing to offer .

Idk guys I am just here to rant and to be stupid

Better late than never they say , I guess it's not too late for me either, I will start my life and live up to what I want & how I feel ,i don't have to care about anything else as long as I feel alive in my bones things will eventually flow, I will fall in love with myself little by little day after day.

I will choose myself instead of choosing others and I will fall in love with my solitude instead of bearing it with me , i don't care if I end up alone if I do end up all by myself I will be with someone who i know has a tendency not to give up .

Life is really short i just don't want to sit and watch it pass by , if I am lucky enough I will have 40 more springs to experience , I have clear boundaries and thoughts in my head now, eventually i will find peace through it I hope so.

Ramdan kareem to people who celebrate it here please remember gaza in your prayers and fastings

#i love everyone here i hope you all are really good and if you are not i will just hope you all will be eventually #things will get better guys give yourself a chance dont crosss oceans for people who cant cross a mile for you #choose yourself over and over again let things go let people leave when they want to #keep yourself happy you are all you have everything is temporary #do good for yourself don't do anything whixh will hurt you in any way shape of form #seem therapy if needed #always remember if it can happens once it can happen again #dont think too much about anything just live do your part feed yourself well #find happiness in small acts of your living #this stupid blog is currently still active on Instagram in case you want to read more of poetry #remember you deserve all good things but don't go around hurting people #take care of your heart bye 🫂❤️‍🩹

[flowersandfashion]

Sun & Moon

requested by @oops-it-is-i

#mitski is modern shakespeare for real #moon wlw and sun mlm solidarity #< that mitski song is about a woman and that shakespeare sonnet is about a man ! #my first thought with sun & moon was a good ol' 'the moon will sing' by crane wives / 'sunlight' by hozier / icarus and apollo / toxic love #but that's been done enough so fuck it we're doing transcendent eternal love. unfortunately of a heterosexual variety. #also I'm still playing around with layouts and things so I'm sure any future moodboards will look different #also also. yes I snuck in an anne of green gables quote. as is my right #moodboard #collage #web weave #light academia #romantic academia #dark academia #art #poetry #greek mythology #renaissance #baroque #mitski #william shakespere #selene and endymion #selene #apollo #sun and moon #sun and moon dynamic #renaissance art #painting #oil painting #pre raphaelite #pre raphaelism

[elainewellspoetry]

Playing The Part | 2.26.24 Note: This is the second poem I've written about this topic in 2 days and I'm realizing now that the reason it's been so hard to write in the past year is because I haven't been writing honestly. I was trying so fucking hard to write love poetry about a guy I wasn't into, and now I'm just speaking my feelings and it's so easy to write again.

#Just to be clear I don't hate men #I love my guy friends to death #I even find some men physically attractive #it's just that I realized the ones I find physically attractive are the good christian boys who my parents would like more than I would #and I have never been able to build a romantic attraction to any guy I've dated #but I still kept dating them because it was easier than telling my parents I liked a girl #and that's what brought us here #original poetry #poetblr #poetry #poetic #poem #elainewellspoetry #writing #poets of tumblr #my poem #spilledink #spilled ink #spilled poetry #spilled thoughts #spilled words #queer writers #sapphic #sappho #wlw #comp het #self accepectance

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

Continuously telling myself that my heart is good, that the way I love will be celebrated one day rather than tolerated, that one day someone will come along who will meet me exactly where I am and in all the ways I need without making me feel like it’s wrong to ask for that.

Continuously telling myself that my heart is good even if someone didn’t know how to hold it well, that for the right people I am not too much, that what I have to say is welcomed with a listening ear even when I’m irrational and overly emotional.

Continuously telling myself my heart is good, with a hand clutched to my chest, I am good I am good I am good, echoing with its beating. I will tell myself my heart is good I am good I am not too much for someone who has the space for me.

I am good my heart is good. I do not have to be hard I do not need to make myself small I do not have to clutch my heart so tight it aches with all the love left unexpressed. My heart is good and one day the goodness in my heart will feel safe enough to be held by hands other than my own.

#mine #text post #late night thoughts #words #One day I won’t feel like I am a problem for expressing any part of myself no matter how unsavory it may be #one day someone will see all of me the good and the bad the lovely and not so lovable and still choose to hold my heart with tenderness #until then I will continue to hold it in the safety of a tightened fist and call it self preservation #one day every single part of will be allowed to show up without someone flinching at my too muchness #poetry #vulnerable post #we’re in our feelings tonight and I will not apologize for it

[ceo-draiochta]

Fuck Yeats for bad information, fuck Yeats for being weird af to countess markievicz and her daughter, fuck Yeats for being a massive hypocrite about independence but by god that man could write a poem. The Second Coming?? Sailing to Byzantium? The song of wandering Aengus? The Stolen Child?? The Lake Isle of Inishfree?? All masterpieces. Still think about quotes from these all the time.

#an irish airman forsees his death is still bad though #poetry #hate to admit it but he really was so so good #ireland #tae #never did see any of his plays tho so idk how they are #his brother was a very good artist too actually #irish mythology kinda ish

[trickstersaint]

sunsets // april 2 2023

#by god i get my poems done when it's still the day For Me. yeah it's past midnight yeah it still counts #also turning this one in for class! so! fingers crossed my professor likes it #did not do the prompt today. didn't have a good concept for it and was too tired to execute the prompt i did have. #anyway! i did a good job with the screenshots right :) #we'll see if instagram is in ANY way forgiving with them. in the morning #poetry #poems about nature #poems about beauty #escapril 2023 #escapril #napowrimo #poems and poetry #poets on tumblr #poetsandwriters

[planet4546b]

some scattered thoughts on poemaday april 2024:

-i am much worse at doing this consistently than i was when i last did it and then i am with nano. this is likely what 10 years of nano practice does to you and also the fact that it's much easier to catch up on a few days of missed poems than it is to catch up on 3k words when you miss a day of nano (ive been averaging 3 poems a day on the days i remember to do them)

-however i also think this matters slightly less because it seems like less of a vital skill wrt writing poetry to just be able to sit down and muscle through a couple thousand words in the way that you often need to with novel writing, so im not upset about this. not the point of the exercise so to speak

-i am so so glad i found a way back into writing poetry. i LOVE writing poetry and forgot just how fun it is and it's coming back to me wicked easily (i wrote poetry extremely regularly until probably 2021, i have hundreds of poems in the backlog, it's a skill ive put a lot of time into and feels good that the muscle memory is still there). some of the things i have written are absolute bangers if im honest

-my feelings on narrative/storytelling mean that narrative poetry ESPECIALLY is more fun than i could have imagined. it asks for both an extremely concise + economical mode of storytelling (+ especially of worldbuilding, a thing i often get very caught up in and now i have to do essentially through allusion alone) and truly asks what is and isn't important to include. and lets me play with storytelling + 'truth' in a fun way

POETRY FUN!!!!

#pers #it isn't by any means the best poetry ive ever written but it feels good to be doing again #and is still decent with a handful of edits #theres a good chance im gonna put the collection on itch when im done bc im decently proud of it as microficiton #moving away from journal poetry is delightful. I do not need to know whatall is going on in there and neither does anyone else

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

realized my math was wrong for how many credits i need and i need 2 more credits in any elective so i've just been looking through for the funniest classes to take. rn i've found an online walking class. where you walk. but it's an online class. it's worth 2 credits i might do it

#also found that u can take a self defense class for a single credit #there's also a weed science class and honestly i don't know if they're talking abt drugs or like plants but that's funny #there's also a baking class that only meets once a week for like 6 hours into the night ? #wild stuff but they don't have my beloved beekeeping class that i wouldn't've been able to take anyway but it makes me sad #after a lot of thought i've decided to take a poetry class #i like poetry it's fun i think i'll like it #more work for me though i'm taking a lot of classes in the fall and like 3 in the summer but it'll be cool i think and a lot of them #are half a semester classes so it'll be fineee it'll be okay i'll be great and then i'll graduate and then i'll figure smth else out ig #it has been pointed out to me that i don't *have to* go straight into grad school but also i don't think there are any good jobs to get w #just a psych bachelors. i've been considering an online grad school bc i'm like so tired and i don't want to live in dorms and i don't care #for the psych graduate degrees my current school offers :/ #ugh whatever it's annoying to think abt anyway today i slept like 10 hours and i just got up a few hours ago but i'm still tired i kinda #want to take a nap but i have school boooo i should be allowed to sleep 16 hours every day but apparently that's not possible without #sacrifices that will ruin my future or whatever idk i think just for me they should make days like 36 hours so i can sleep and get #stuff done i think i deserve that

[trans-leek-cookie]

im banging my head into a wall. Amethar was seemingly chosen by destiny to be a ruler despite never wanting that. Outliving his mother, sisters, father, and one of his daughters. Destiny has been designed.

#TRW spoilers #I can't pick any single character bc all of them and their players make me want to explode. #ACOC spoilers #I'm SICK about them. Like Amangeaux is the least latched on my brain bc I feel like I need more context but even then that like comparing a #90 to 100s. Anjali is so good at playing her very naturally and I'm going to run around in circles about it. Lou killed amethars fucking mo #I cant even talk abt deli without my brain melting from the sheer poetry of the characters. #Karna worships the hungry one and is rotting and took over being spymaster when she was a child and still is a child. #Raphaniel is fucking. scrambling my brain like eggs Brennan killed Pamela rocks twice but never her son. #and the obligatory COME ON PROVOLONE

[thebirdandhersong]

orange peel promise

In between gut-wrenching deep breaths

and the sweat forming between my forehead

and the wooden pew, there was some sort of prayer

birthed: just like there was a prayer knitting itself

together when my friend hooked her arm around mine

and made her shoulder a resting place

for my bowed head. She just let me cry

into her sleeve in that empty, echoing church,

and her sturdy hand (steady with the repeated

knowledge of baking and painting and unnoticed serving)

held me close. There was a prayer there in the silence

of companionship, just as there was prayer

in the song rising around me in the service, though

I had no strength to rise from my knees then.

The pew in front of me: my favourite hiding place.

I wanted to hide from the truth--I wanted the sadness

to end--I wanted to stay silent.

They were praising God with joyful voices all around me.

I will praise my God, I thought, as my handkerchief

turned cold and heavy in my hand. I will. Even now.

Especially now. And so I got up, and the prayer

that was the dull beating of my tired heart

turned to shaking song.

There was prayer, too, when I split the sealed

envelope and unfolded the first and last letter.

And there was consolation in knowing that my God

was holding the what-ifs that had made an uneasy home

in my heart. What about the oranges I never peeled for you?

I had been thinking days ago. You don't know how

much I wanted to sit with you at the kitchen table

and watch the sun set on a quiet summer evening.

Here is how it goes: we say nothing, but the words

that sit there in the silence with us are simple:

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Here is how it goes:

I peel oranges first with the curve of my nail

digging into the middle, and I turn it into

a little clumsy blossom, a sea star with uneven arms.

I am good at peeling oranges.

I would have been good at peeling oranges for you.

And what about the letters I wanted to write?

What about the meals I'll never make?

What about all the little things I wanted to give to you,

the happy secrets I thought we'd share,

your absentminded hand trailing over your

guitar strings like fingers trailing in a lazy stream,

the family dinners and the walks by the sea?

But I stopped myself, and was content for a while

knowing that my God held all those little hungry

thoughts, too. And so the prayer that came when

the darkness descended over me again was this:

Lord, be near to me. Lord, please be near to me.

And there was consolation in knowing that He was,

even as you walked through the door that heavy

summer day, for our friend's wedding.

In between fervent applause and joyful song,

there was another prayer rising to my lips:

God, help me. What about the oranges? (Why oranges?)

What about the first time I ran to the basement door

and leaned my head against the cold metal frame

and listened, heart humming, for your voice?

What about the first time you held the door

and the first time you looked at me and smiled

as if your heart-gladness was as deep as mine?

Of course, it is easier to say "forget" than to not remember.

You were there. I was glad and relieved and hurting,

because you were there.

Here is how it went: I saw you on the stage and I forgot

to not think to myself: I love you, I love you, I love you.

Naturally, I was ashamed. Naturally, I was not surprised.

There was prayer before I opened your letter,

though I did not voice it, though it had no words

to give it shape. But I am sure there was. There was

no longer silence then: the generosity of the balmy air

was filled with outside voices, while in the office

the girl in the purple dress a size too big for her

cried into the palm of her hand so that no one would hear.

Before the letter, we walked towards the emptied altar

(where our friends had just exchanged vows) as

almost-strangers. After you gave it to me, we walked

down the quiet aisle side by side, almost-friends.

I read it and there was that prayer again, but this time,

it was one of simple joy. Joy that at last I understood.

Perhaps part of the problem was that I wanted--

expected--oranges, too, when what you were trying to give

was the quiet of companionship. Perhaps the problem

was that the thing we'd been trying to say

(I love you, I love you, I love you) was lost in translation

again and again.

The prayer when I walked back home today after church

was this: Thank you, thank you, thank you. In the

birdhouse of my imagination, in the fragile glass cabinet

hidden in my soul there was simply heart-gladness

that I knew you, that I loved you, that I was loved by you.

You know, the birds sing on in cheerful oblivion,

whether you're laughing or crying. Perhaps they know

that love never truly ends--it only changes shape.

Perhaps they know that song is really a form of prayer,

and all desperate prayer can be turned into gut-wrenching

praise. For our newly wedded friends, it began

at a kitchen table and ended (or began again) at

the altar. For the two of us, it began at a kitchen table

and ended (or began again) at the altar, when the decorations

were gone, when the people had migrated in great birdlike

flocks to the shade of the trees.

And so here is how it went: I met you (a blessing),

I loved you (a blessing), I was loved by you (a blessing).

And it was like looking at the world through stained glass.

And it was like dancing under the first shower of snow.

And it was like watching a garden grow,

like watching cherry blossom petals fall in April,

like the wild impulse to kiss the young sprout of a tree

in front of our church just because it was a young sprout

of a tree, just because it was spring.

And it was a good thing. It was a blessing.

You said so yourself. Naturally, I believed you.

And when I touched your cheek and you cried, I was

not surprised. And when I held you too long for

the last time, you were not surprised, either.

Some people wish on eyelashes, some on clovers,

some on shooting stars, some on pennies in a fountain.

Wishes for what? Probably not for the chance to peel

oranges for someone. One last thing, dear.

I only have one thing left to say today: I wish (no,

I pray) that you will be happy. That you will know

that God is near. That the spring comes again and again

for you, just for you. That someday, someone will peel

orange after orange for you, and that you will sit with her

and smile that rising-sun smile you saved for me,

and both of you will understand that it all means the same

thing, really: the oranges, and the silence, and the song,

and the spring, and the wildness of joy, and the

stillness of peace: that it means this: that it means yes:

that it means the heaviest and lightest promise of all:

that it means, truly, with all heart and soul:

I love you. I love you. I love you.

#and that is Closure! #alas the first time i post any poetry it is the long and rambly kind. at any rate it is what it is #i am only very young and have much to learn and see! and who knows if i really understand what true heartbreak is #but i do know that it was and is love and i am glad for it #mr knight :) God bless him #he is still one of the warmest kindest sweetest most joyful most steadfast people i know #i have had crushes in the past but! i think mr knight was my real first love #and i hope that God gives him much joy in his lifetime #slings and arrows of outrageous fortune in year 21 #aaaaaand now i'm back to doing homework :D troilus and cressida is not an easy play to write on but. a paper must be produced #and sleep must be had at SOME point. so an early good night dear friends #it has been an Experience these past few weeks and i've learned plenty about my own failings and shortcomings #thank God for His grace through it all. and thank God for ALL!!!

[grapeszn]

INSTAGRAM JUST UP AND DELETED MY SAVED COLLECTIONS. I SPENT LIKE A YEAR SORTING POSTS INTO THOSE COLLECTIONS. IT ALSO MYSTERIOUSLY AND WITHOUT WARNING DELETED A BUNCH OF MY CHATS WITH FRIENDS FROM MY INBOX. I LOST SO MANY IMAGES AND VIDEOS MY FRIENDS SENT ME OVER THE YEARS. WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL

#i genuinely do not understand what the hell #why. like what did i even do #i don't post or comment on IG either #I contacted support twice. no damn response #y'all if you know any fixes...let me know pls! #i had sooo much stuff saved and sorted into collections. recipes fashion inspo poetry n writing excerpts. a vision board even #to be clear i still have my saved posts but they're all unsorted now bc IG deleted my collections #now i'll have to scroll 10 miles if i want to find an older saved post #this is wildest thing for a social media app to do to you unprovoked. ALSO completely and utterly out of the blue. like what #i feel personally targeted im not even kidding lmfaooooo #bc best believe i ran to google to look for fixes. and guess what i got. nothing. damn near nothing #and im about to burst out laughing as i type this out bc what the hell man 🤣😭 this shit is so ridiculous its funny #but im also so angry at having my data wiped that i don't know what to do #man 😭 im tired. im going to sleep #i'll wake up and what next? my instagram as a whole gets fuckin deleted lmfaoo #which when you think about it. is a good thing. they'd be doing me a favor #instagram is demonic atp anyway #personal

[the-four-humors]

No hate towards the "make bad art because how else are you going to make art" mindset but I'm different*

*Genuinely obsessed with my own art so even if something isn't as good as previous pieces, I still love it and therefore none of my art is "bad" art

#like. I post EVERY finished piece to mh socials #and i rarely *dont* finish a piece #i've done this for so long that i feel no shame about any of my art #because i made it and it's good (because i made it) #posting poetry sometimes feels a little intimidating bc it's way more personal #but even then #nearly 2 decades of posting visual art just makes posting art a habit #so i post all my poetry too. even the ones i think aren't as good #and that mindset means that even the ones that aren't as good... i still like

[aerithisms]

"taylor swift doesn't know what it's like to be a normal person so she'll never be able to write about certain experiences the way other artists can" is a fair critique of her as an artist but i will say i think if you think all she's trying to do is play pretend as a normal person and that she's never written anything profound about her specific life experiences you just don't know her discography. her songs ABOUT fame have produced some of her best lyricism because she understands fame in a particular way that very few people on this earth do. and while she has never been a normal adult she WAS a normal child/teen and i think the way she's able to write about that in retrospect now has also produced some of her best work. no she's not a groundbreaking unique poet but just as a lot of swifties overstate her poeticism i think a lot of people who don't like her do understate it

#blahs #'she's not groundbreaking' is such a nothing criticism to me like literally who cares. she's still good! #so many beloved classic songs aren't necessarily groundbreaking either but nobody says they're not good lol #and i think what makes her SO loved isn't just her lyrics it's the way she can spin them into such great melodies #like matching your words to a good tune that fits the tone is a whole other skill than poetry! it's like magic to me #if you tell me you don't think ANY of her songs are bangers you're a liar. you're lying to me #sorry this is so annoying of me but another day another viral anti-taylor swift post. are we all tired yet #it's not praxis to hate her