(Source: rrevolutionaries)
it’s never polite to throw back the tear gas.
just like it’s never polite to bring enough life rafts…
they crowd the balconies where the wealthy shine their jewels.
but what if love, what if real love is fucking rude?
Showing posts tagged poetry
we promised the world we'd change it.: National Poetry Month, Day 8
Circe’s Power
I never turned anyone into a pig.
Some people are pigs; I make them
Look like pigs.
I’m sick of your world
That lets the outside disguise the inside. Your men weren’t bad men;
Undisciplined life
Did that to them. As pigs,
Under the care of
Me and my ladies, they
Sweetened right up.
Then I reversed the spell, showing you my goodness
As well as my power. I saw
We could be happy here,
As men and women are
When their needs are simple. In the same breath,
I foresaw your departure,
Your men with my help braving
The crying and pounding sea. You think
A few tears upset me? My friend,
Every sorceress is
A pragmatist at heart; nobody sees essence who can’t
Face limitation. If I wanted only to hold you
I could hold you prisoner.-Louise Glück
“
(Reblogged from jebiwonkenobi)
There is a kind of pressure in humans to take whatever is most beloved by them
and smash it.
Religion calls the pressure piety and the smashed thing a sacrifice to God.
Prophets question these names.
What is an idol?
An idol is a useless sacrifice, said Isaiah.
But how do you know which ones are useless? asked the nation in its genius.
Anne Carson, “The Book of Isaiah” (via fragmentsshoredagainstmyruin)
“
(Reblogged from queenofattolia)
Darlings, sometimes love will come to you like a fire
to a forest. When it does, be braver than I was. Just leave.
Take only what you can carry. No tears, no second thoughts.
You have hands like tinder boxes, the smallest spark
will kill you.
Get in the car. Take water to the maps. Avoid gas stations.
Don’t look at the flames dancing in the rear view mirror.
Go to new cities, climb on the rooftops and slow dance with
your coldest memories. Wallpaper your new home with every
dusty, desperate love letter you swore you’d never send.
Find a stranger with sharp edges and uncharted hips.
Press your stories into their skin and forget you ever knew
his name. Just promise you won’t think of embers or smoke.
Even when there is ash in your hair. Even when there is soot
in your lungs.
to a forest. When it does, be braver than I was. Just leave.
Take only what you can carry. No tears, no second thoughts.
You have hands like tinder boxes, the smallest spark
will kill you.
Get in the car. Take water to the maps. Avoid gas stations.
Don’t look at the flames dancing in the rear view mirror.
Go to new cities, climb on the rooftops and slow dance with
your coldest memories. Wallpaper your new home with every
dusty, desperate love letter you swore you’d never send.
Find a stranger with sharp edges and uncharted hips.
Press your stories into their skin and forget you ever knew
his name. Just promise you won’t think of embers or smoke.
Even when there is ash in your hair. Even when there is soot
in your lungs.
To Girls Like Me, With Hearts Like Kindling, Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)
“
(Reblogged from loveyourchaos)
You have my permission not to love me;
I am a cathedral of deadbolts
and I’d rather burn myself down
than change the locks.
I am a cathedral of deadbolts
and I’d rather burn myself down
than change the locks.
Rachel McKibbens, “Letter From My Brain To My Heart” (via loveyourchaos)
(Source: larmoyante)
(Source: likeafieldmouse)
I do not think
we were meant to burn the world
the way we did.They always taught us
that to destroy is to sin and that
you will never be free once you have killed.They misread human nature,
my love. We have destroyed and it has
made kings and queens of us.We are stronger now
we have sinned so mightily.
(Eve ate the apple, that’s where this started.)Hold me close against you,
and strike the match.
Tear down the last gods.
(Source: rrevolutionaries)
My bones said, “Write the poem.”: Ear Muffs-Andrea Gibson
My favorite teacher once told me
she wears three hats at the same time
while walking through her neighborhood
in the backwoods of Maine;
one to keep her head warm,
one to block the sun from her face,
and one bright orange hat
to keep the hunters from shooting her in the brain.She looked at me seriously and said,
“I suppose I could get a hat that does all three
but that would be an awfully funny looking hat.”You, my love
are a funny looking hat.That is to say,
you are everything I need.Forgive me for the days
I am ear muffs
in Florida
on a sandy beach
during a heat wave.
