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Link Post Thu, Apr. 17, 2014 12 notes

Drained

echoes-of-me:

Was in the shower
Working up a lather
(Hands full
Handfuls)
Words running through mind
Like bubbles running over body
Had bits of something…
Something…
Teasing edges of tongue
Tapping thoughts
On backs of teeth
Trying out the taste
Of something…something…lust
smiling delight at lines
Taking shape among tiled walls




Quote Post Thu, Apr. 17, 2014 6 notes

"I love you, Mrs. Acorn. Would your husband mind
if I kissed you under the autumn sun,
if my brown-leaf guilty passion made you blind
to his manly charms and fun?

I want you, Mrs. Acorn. Do you think you’ll come
to see my tangled, windswept desires,
and visit me in my ever-changing house of some
vision of winter’s fires?

I am serious Mrs. Acorn, do you hear?
Forget your family and other ties,
Come with me to where there is no fear,
where we’ll find summer butterflies.

I am serious Mrs. Acorn, are you deaf?”


Kath Fraser, born 1947 (via thelesbiangarden)

(Source: thegayeducator, via thelesbiangarden)





Text Post Thu, Apr. 17, 2014 4 notes

bumbusy:

I am looking at
snake’s eye,
talking to
tiger’s jaw,
riding on
shark’s back,

I come to
the realization
that taming
an untamed
is a call for
amity, a call
for survival,  
for I can’t do
such thing
unless they
allow me to
do so

this world is
a jungle
where truce
can only
make us safe
and sound

(Source: caughtbyword)






Link Post Thu, Apr. 17, 2014 49 notes

Sacred garden

curvypervyme:

The rough crass
The graceful grass

My heart has a garden gate .

One side is merry,
The other is hate.

I’ve grown trees and shrubs
And wander down paths
Where the fence has stopped.

There the doltish and delicate intertwine and weave,
Like leather and lace.
There you will find the…




Ask me anything Thu, Apr. 17, 2014 63 notes
fathi-meer Asked:
Moonbeams, mysteries, melancholy

surfandwrite:

Moonbeams glisten

over taut skin stretched  

over bones aching; Love,

I am almost always aching,

I drink water when I am not

thirsty and I know I am hard to take,

but my veins sing out your name

to catch the mysteries floating

round my eyes, I am whispering

stories before you sleep,

can you hear them?

I say,

"The city smoke pollutes

souls once were clean.”

I say,

"Put your dreams in a lighter

and set my hands aflame.”

I say,

"Douse the melancholy in my voice,

rip the questions from my vocal chords -“

But you fell before I finished.

So I left a note on your

pillow. It says,

"I want answers. I’ve been

unsolved for too long.”





Quote Post Thu, Apr. 17, 2014 14,161 notes

Let’s be honest here -
I am not the girl men fall in love with.
I am the girl that men want to fuck.
I am a conquest. A prize. A show.

I could count on five hundred fingers
the number of people that have professed,
“I like you. You’re different. You’re an interesting girl.”
Apparently I’m not fascinating enough for you
to want to hold for more than a one night stand.

Once
as I finished swimming a sea of blankets
and got left stranded on the shore,
I asked myself:

What’s wrong with me?
What am I doing?
Am I not good enough for anybody?

And right before I could drown again,
the sun woke up and said,

"You are.
You are enough.
Forget the men whose hands have groped your hips
in search for answers to questions
you’ve never even heard of.
Do not settle for people who do not appreciate you,
who do not know how lucky they are.
Remember it is a privilege to be loved by you,
or even just
to be touched by you, and
the warmth of another body does not define your worth.

These men -
they think that they can own you
with their drunken stares and roughened arms, but
I have circled the earth
a thousand times
to feed the light flowing inside your skin.
Do not waste it by illuminating those who
can not even be bothered
to learn your last name.”

So that night when
the moon tried once more to pin me down,
I told him:

I am made of sunlight, crashing waves, and fireworks.
You think you can tame me
and cool my flesh?
I am the girl who plays with matches,
and trust me I play it well.
Lord knows I’ve walked through villages leaving
a pile of destruction in my wake.

My heart is a bushfire
and the next time you try to control me,
darling, make no mistake -

I will burst out and ravage you in flames.

I’ll
burn
you
to
the
ground.

(This isn’t a test.)


Sade Andria Zabala (surfandwrite) | For All The Girls With Messy Hearts, And To The Men Whose Skin Have Tasted Mine (via surfandwrite)

(Source: surfandwrite, via surfandwrite)





Photo Post Thu, Apr. 17, 2014 1,428 notes

surfandwrite:

You can buy my poetry book here:
lulu.com/spotlight/sadeandriazabala

surfandwrite:

You can buy my poetry book here:




Ask me anything Thu, Apr. 17, 2014 93 notes
Anonymous Asked:
shake, music, dictionary

surfandwrite:

I tried to use 

a dictionary 

so I could 

define the way

your touch 

seems to make music flow

from the pores of my skin, but

words alone 

could not do justice

to how

effortlessly you can 

shake the emptiness

out of me.

(Thank you for that)





Text Post Thu, Apr. 17, 2014 24 notes

labelledamesansdice:

Molly placed rubber bands
over the wrists of her long
dirty sleeves.

Molly waited for specific
words to simmer loudly, under
a non functioning pressure
cooker.

Molly bought into the story
that her heart was too soft,
but I said Molly was strong.

Who else would hide her
feelings at all cost and try
to jump upon capsizing
boats, while swimming
in international waters?






Text Post Thu, Apr. 17, 2014 16 notes

The Perfect Lullaby

sweetestramblings:

Night has come
and here I am,
still awake.

Night has come
and there you are,
fast asleep.

I yearn 
to be next
to you.

I am aching
to be inside
your embrace.

I want nothing more
than our fingers
to be entwined

as my head
rests gently upon
your beating heart—

the perfect lullaby.

| c.l.s | 2014






Text Post Wed, Apr. 16, 2014 56 notes

Fine Lines

lzlabs:

image

Naked lines, blurred bodies
traced against stark white cotton
details lost, penciled in shadows
skin to skin
pressed deep within
her back, arched
his hips, thrust
light, dark
sketches of love
©


Art by my.opera.com/PureKore/albums

(via lzlabseesu)






Link Post Wed, Apr. 16, 2014 45 notes

Feeling The Music

tenmilesfromhome:


I’ve got a boombox

beating out a pulse,

music surging through

every vein.

I’ve got lyrics in my

Limbic system. Feeling

cadences change in

every corner of my mind

as movements rise and

fall through synapse gaps.

There are chords in my 
capillaries.
I can feel them in

my…




Text Post Wed, Apr. 16, 2014 6 notes

behind the alibi

jdubqca:

behind the alibi - new #poem in #audio #micropoetry


alone I wander the sea
of dreams
just me and my alibi
and yellow submarine

beneath the depths of
deserted space
shooting stars sail on
outside the alibi

old borders collapse
new realities emerge
compressed and
submerged
and living a new lie


april two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

View On WordPress

(via s-emi-colon)







Photo Post Wed, Apr. 16, 2014 73 notes

maxmundan:

A NEW WRINKLE



Why are wrinkles,
Which denote survival
Through hardship;
Triumph over adversity;
Victory against time;
Associated with ugliness?
What if we accentuated;
Emphasized; embellished;
Decorated
Our wrinkles?
What if we said,
“Our wrinkles aren’t our shame,
They are our glory.”?
What if we turned our wrinkles
Into rainbows?


This beautiful piece of artwork was done in response to my poem “A New Wrinkle” by the very talented sconesandswords. I am honored and flattered.

maxmundan:

A NEW WRINKLE

Why are wrinkles,
Which denote survival
Through hardship;
Triumph over adversity;
Victory against time;
Associated with ugliness?
What if we accentuated;
Emphasized; embellished;
Decorated
Our wrinkles?
What if we said,
“Our wrinkles aren’t our shame,
They are our glory.”?
What if we turned our wrinkles
Into rainbows?


This beautiful piece of artwork was done in response to my poem “A New Wrinkle” by the very talented sconesandswords. I am honored and flattered.

(via maxmundan)



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