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    1. The Prologue to Another Man's Life

      Deep are the sighs of unsung mariners, Drifting gently upward out of bottomless canyons Over hills and mountains Through snowdrifts and clouds, They make their way Home. Calling the stars (so far...

      Deep are the sighs of unsung mariners,
      Drifting gently upward out of bottomless canyons
      Over hills and mountains
      Through snowdrifts and clouds,
      They make their way
      Home.

      Calling the stars (so far out of reach);
      Calling the moon (dispassionate waning gibbous);
      Calling the trees (for the spineless tools they are);
      Calling the ocean,
      The ocean:
      Home.

      Cry to the waves for the songs of land,
      The endless dark crashing and shifting and moving.
      Plead for stability. Remembrance. Peace.
      Beg for an end to this oppressive
      Home.

      Deep are the sighs of unsung mariners.
      Sigh no longer.
      I sing you now;
      I bring you
      Home.

      8 votes
    2. Poetry analysis/appreciation request - Morning, by Frank O'Hara

      I'm an undoubted pleb when it comes to just about everything artistic (with the exception of music, in which I have impeccable taste). A while back, I suggested I'd be interested in seeing some...

      I'm an undoubted pleb when it comes to just about everything artistic (with the exception of music, in which I have impeccable taste). A while back, I suggested I'd be interested in seeing some critique or general discussion of already-known or published poetry, if only so I could get others' opinions on things that usually go over my head. This is an effort to get the ball rolling, with a poem that is one of my favorites.

      Also, I'm not sure if this belongs here or in ~arts, please classify as appropriate.


      Morning - Frank O'Hara

      I've got to tell you
      how I love you always
      I think of it on grey
      mornings with death

      in my mouth the tea
      is never hot enough
      then and the cigarette
      dry the maroon robe

      chills me I need you
      and look out the window
      at the noiseless snow

      At night on the dock
      the buses glow like
      clouds and I am lonely
      thinking of flutes

      I miss you always
      when I go to the beach
      the sand is wet with
      tears that seem mine

      although I never weep
      and hold you in my
      heart with a very real
      humor you'd be proud of

      the parking lot is
      crowded and I stand
      rattling my keys the car
      is empty as a bicycle

      what are you doing now
      where did you eat your
      lunch and were there
      lots of anchovies it

      is difficult to think
      of you without me in
      the sentence you depress
      me when you are alone

      Last night the stars
      were numerous and today
      snow is their calling
      card I'll not be cordial

      there is nothing that
      distracts me music is
      only a crossword puzzle
      do you know how it is

      when you are the only
      passenger if there is a
      place further from me
      I beg you do not go

      7 votes
    3. can you have a painting made with just one color?

      can you have a painting made with just one color? the walls stopped leaking they broke down the water is pouring in it has long ago turned brown literally floating shit was it ever clear? the ice...

      can you have a painting made with just one color?

      the walls stopped leaking
      they broke down
      the water is pouring in
      it has long ago turned brown
      literally floating shit
      was it ever clear?

      the ice stopped melting
      why that frown
      the truth is coming in
      the good guys have the crown
      back then there weren't any queers
      things were better, isn't that clear?

      i think overall we drink cleaner water than before

      10 votes
    4. "Man, I didn't want to grow up to this."

      So we have all these people, and they all seem to be pissed. So many people and they all seem to have... something amiss. Many of these people, their concerns are just... entirely dismissed: By...

      So we have all these people, and they all seem to be pissed.

      So many people and they all seem to have... something amiss.

      Many of these people, their concerns are just... entirely dismissed:

      By other people with the same problems who somehow look at these perfectly normal people and react: "I have been nixed!"

      These problems are pervasive in our memories and experiences and on a metaphorical wall they are fixed;

      And yet the root causes are consistently misinterpreted, and ultimately missed.

      And the result is we are betting everything for the sake of getting our cathartic and revengeful fix?

      That is being delivered to us by people that if they were to meet us, would utterly reject us and loudly hiss?

      And if that gamble fails I will be the one to pick up the scraps, and mop up the piss?

      Man, I didn't want to grow up to this.

      9 votes
    5. I wrote a poem - Coming Out 2.0

      I'm working on this for a poetry class I'm taking, any criticism is welcome. Edit: Italicized some text I forgot when I copied it out of Word. Edit 2: Fixed some phrasing. Coming Out 2.0 When I...

      I'm working on this for a poetry class I'm taking, any criticism is welcome.

      Edit: Italicized some text I forgot when I copied it out of Word.
      Edit 2: Fixed some phrasing.

      Coming Out 2.0

      When I first came out
      I thought it was over.
      Done.
      I know myself now,
      My life can finally be
      worthwhile and fun.

      But there was always a mess I dared
      not touch. Who do I like? What gaze
      makes me blush? I suspected the feminine
      but held out hope – only taking up one letter
      made it easier to cope.

      And some people do change after starting
      HRT, so patiently I hoped men would appeal
      to me. I had some feelings before, it seemed reasonable
      they would grow. But as time went on I realized I had
      nothing to show. My feelings for men were entirely gone,
      but still hopeful for a straight-passing future, I pressed on.

      I had definite feelings for women before,
      But at times the attraction seemed a bit more –
      Did I want to be them or did I want to be with them?
      The former I assumed, as it helped to distract,
      focus on my work, brush my desires under the mat.

      I’d think “She looks cute”, but “in that outfit”, “with that hairdo” and other qualifiers
      I began to append, convincing myself what I felt was normal and, like a
      Chicagoland road, no bend. When I began to notice some feelings bubbling up I said
      “Female friendships are close, it’s nothing, the end.” But try as I might, they flowered
      and bloomed, and soon I could not help but be all-consumed. Maybe I’m bi, I thought,
      That isn’t so bad. More options for dating, how can I be mad? I told my friend my feelings, and as
      expected, for me she had none. She’s still one of my best friends, so I’d neither lost nor won.

      I dealt with the rejection and moved on. I could still be bi, better not
      jump the gun. You can’t take back coming out, you’ve got one shot – nail it
      and be done. I thought everything would be the same, but the floodgates were open,
      my restraints had been broken. I could finally be honest about my feelings
      for women (endless, confusing and interwoven) and for men, which were at most
      an appreciative token.

      A week after confessing to my crush, it was obvious
      who won. The Sapphic feelings and desires made
      their presence known, their intent to stay,
      and more difficult than coming out
      as trans was admitting
      to being gay.

      15 votes
    6. Behind the Teeth

      always seem happy and dandy and talk of love and romance a riven smile on the face to hide thoughts of pain for her, everything has a verse a waltz at each step a flimsy variety of beauty that...

      always seem happy and dandy
      and talk of love and romance
      a riven smile on the face
      to hide thoughts of pain

      for her, everything has a verse
      a waltz at each step
      a flimsy variety of beauty
      that melts after rehearse

      huge hipster glasses
      coffee without any taste
      a window facing concrete
      is now hummingbirds enlaced

      and when she sings all her love
      I am always in disbelief
      cause when someone shouts too much
      I sense a hooded grief

      2 votes
    7. Infatuation Mishap

      You were smart and pretty and praised every word I said Responded to my commands like a very well-trained basset You gave me food, shelter, affection in bed, you did as I pleased and such strong...

      You were smart and pretty
      and praised every word I said

      Responded to my commands
      like a very well-trained basset

      You gave me food, shelter, affection
      in bed, you did as I pleased
      and such strong devotion
      was hard for me to receive

      Cause how could I trust someone
      who clearly and truly loves me?

      6 votes
    8. Love Mania

      In this grass where we sit, I saw many full moons lit Kissed them shivering in the wind, felt like solution, formed decision, ultimate end But the frenzy always fades, pretty mirage in the haze...

      In this grass where we sit,
      I saw many full moons lit

      Kissed them shivering in the wind,
      felt like solution, formed decision, ultimate end

      But the frenzy always fades,
      pretty mirage in the haze

      Silly me...

      I just met you yesterday
      And once again tremble my veins

      4 votes
    9. Seeking Meaning

      I cannot defend my lack of years my lack of tears my lack of guilt I will always regret the tears and sweat that I've put upon your face For it is a disgrace the things I've done the thoughts I've...
      I cannot defend
      my lack of years
      my lack of tears
      my lack of guilt
      
      I will always regret
      the tears and sweat
      that I've put upon your face
      
      For it is a disgrace
      the things I've done
      the thoughts I've thunk
      the things I've done to you
      
      When I killed that man
      in the cabbage patch
      at half-past 3 am
      
      When I killed that man
      that I knew you loved
      that I, too, loved
      that I knew was marked for greatness
      
      When I killed that man
      with a knife to the heart
      with a mind full of rage
      with a mind ablaze
       with many a myriad thought
      
      I could almost say it was jealousy
      (i know that I cannot)
      
      I could almost say it was hatred or spite
      (but i know that I cannot)
      
      I could even say it was impulse to slay that man who I knew and who knew not what he wrought
      (but still this thing that i want to say--
       i know but one thing: say it, I cannot)
      
      For it was not calculated
      nor can I say that I hated
      that man, though I often berated
      him for things that control them?  He could not.
      
      For the reason that I did all these things that I did
      was simple in the extreme
      was harder to digest
          than powdered ice cream
      
      And even I could give you a ream
      of paper to show the things I did
      of paper to show you these things that I did
      of paper on which to pour out my sin
      of paper, cathartic, explaining my doing
      of paper, incredible, pure white and blank,
                and innocent, available, asking me to taint it
      
      An I could give you a billion words to explain all the pain which I caused
         I could give you only two
      
      NO REASON.
      
      8 votes
    10. Untitled poem

      Ask not for whom the cradle weeps; it weeps for you. O sly kitten, O accursèd cat, cry, cry for the weft and the warp of the world; cry, cry for the sin and the sorrow and suffering; cry, cry on...
      Ask not for whom the cradle weeps; it weeps for you.
      
      
      O sly kitten, O accursèd cat, cry,
      cry for the weft and the warp of the world; cry,
      cry for the sin and the sorrow and suffering; cry,
      cry on the bloodshed, but more on the tears; cry,
      cry for divisions, and ill-wrought connections; cry,
      cry for the laughter, so far out of reach; cry.
      And in crying find solace; peace——rhythm——be still.
      
                                                     cry 
      and cry——cry for the widows and widowers, woven together forever,
      by weeping and painless heart-let.
         But your pain is not theirs.
         For, though burdened with truth, you will never be cut 
         by the serrated and blunted edge of polite fiction.
         Enough!
      
      
      When the cat's in the cradle, the mice will play,
      And I hope that they fly far——far-far away.
      But the tears of the kitten forever abide,
      and someday they'll catch you.
                     will you take it in stride?
      
      11 votes
    11. Recommend me a song based just on one line (or couplet) in its lyrics

      I'm interested in finding more great songwriters across different genres and I want to defeat my own bias, so don't tell me the artist or genre (or maybe put it in <details> tags). Here are a few...

      I'm interested in finding more great songwriters across different genres and I want to defeat my own bias, so don't tell me the artist or genre (or maybe put it in <details> tags).

      Here are a few of mine -

       

      Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds

      Song infoBob Marley - Redemption Song

      If you're really as tough as your defenses, you'd let them fall

      Song infoJimmy Eat World - Stop

      Tried to deceive me, you only deceived you; what you thought was invisible was only see-through

      Song infoOne Be Lo - Decepticons

      I said, "If you won't save me, please don't waste my time"

      Song infoOasis - Falling Down

      Emotional luggage, nothing of it, I don't check bags; I just carry on, leave that bullshit in the past

      Song infoCurren$y - Airborne Aquarium

      Nothing no scary like a gunman voice when people beg a gunman think twice, and him say no

      Song infoDamian "Junior Gong" Marley - Gunman World (Is It Worth It?)

      To turn your sick soul inside out - so that the world, so that the world can watch you die

      Song infoGil Scott-Heron - Home Is Where the Hatred Is

       

      Coincidentally, not all those songs are necessarily at the top of my recommends, but they are the first memorable one-liners that came to mind. I won't mind if your picks aren't the greatest songs of all time either if the line still hits.

      21 votes
    12. F*** me

      1:45 A M Two divided Lonely bed, lonely couch Emotional drainage leaks Seeps into sub floors Foul and sickly Sticky and putrid Fuck me

      13 votes
    13. Why don't you comment on poetry?

      I post a fair amount of poetry to Tildes, with the hope of getting feedback or starting discussion. Yet, as you can see from looking at the poem tag, there generally isn't any kind of discussion...

      I post a fair amount of poetry to Tildes, with the hope of getting feedback or starting discussion.

      Yet, as you can see from looking at the poem tag, there generally isn't any kind of discussion on poetry posts. Even Bishop's departure post only received six comments.

      So, why is this? What stops you commenting on poems? I would like to have discussions about what I write with the people here. I don't know if there's something I can do to make it easier to engage with me regarding my work, or if there's something else preventing the discussion.

      37 votes
    14. Blue house

      Blue house Foundation exposed Brown threadbare carpet White counters fadded dull Wallpaper curled and yellow Still it's theirs Contentment abounds

      9 votes
    15. Untitled Mental Health I

      I'm not quite like you A few words and that's it The façade fades Crumbles The carefully constructed mood dies Coping mechanisms defeated The castle is compromised A strong exterior only goes so...
      I'm not quite like you
      A few words and that's it
      The façade fades
      Crumbles
      The carefully constructed mood dies
      Coping mechanisms defeated
      The castle is compromised
      
      A strong exterior only goes so far
      Each word pulls stones from the foundation
      Fragile walls, fragile heart
      I retreat to my secret home
      Away from the swords and arrows and fire
      No one can reach me here
      Safe and quiet and in control
      Equally secure, equally secluded
      
      19 votes
    16. Untitled I

      Tapped out on my phone in an Uber on the way to D&D. I write about more than love, I promise! the water laps at the dam seeking egress, seeking progress everyone inside so thirsty life affirming...

      Tapped out on my phone in an Uber on the way to D&D. I write about more than love, I promise!

      the water laps at the dam
      seeking egress, seeking progress
      everyone inside so thirsty
      life affirming liquid
      but the dam
      the wall we built to keep ourselves safe
      our salvation
      our condemnation
      seemed a good idea at the time
      but all our other crimes against ourselves did too
      how are we so smart yet so stupid
      it hurts
      it fucking hurts
      life without love may as well be an empty gift on Christmas morning
      but we all do it to ourselves every day
      so many boundaries and rules and norms
      all because we’re too afraid to get hurt
      too afraid to be ourselves
      too afraid to realize ourselves
      too afraid to give one another the best gift we can
      
      12 votes
    17. Untitled Mental Health II, or, but

      I’m sorry but I can’t today I want to but I can’t It’s not my fault but I’m guilty anyway I’m not understood but I’m pressured anyway I yearn to create, to do but I just stay in bed I want to live...
      I’m sorry
      but
      I can’t today
      I want to
      but
      I can’t
      It’s not my fault
      but 
      I’m guilty anyway
      I’m not understood
      but
      I’m pressured anyway
      I yearn to create, to do
      but
      I just stay in bed
      I want to live
      but
      I’m too hurt
      
      13 votes
    18. Cotton Candy

      Put your head over here and cry all the yearning away cause thinking will bring you nothing just thoughts and yet more pain Sleep, sleep my child breath slowly that way cause here there is no more...

      Put your head over here
      and cry all the yearning away
      cause thinking will bring you nothing
      just thoughts and yet more pain

      Sleep, sleep my child
      breath slowly that way
      cause here there is no more strain
      under my loving gaze

      In your cotton candy dreams
      you embrace with such strength
      a cloud above in the sky
      sleep, honey, yes, sleep
      cause here you're free from time

      And there I am on this dream
      imagining, imagined
      the mark of a want, of a wish
      a trace drawn in the sky
      don't know if I'm the one dreaming
      or if I am been dreamed about

      Portuguese original

      encosta a cabeça aqui
      e chora a saudade toda
      que pensar não leva nada
      só mais pensar e dor ainda

      dorme seu sono infante
      respira assim devagar
      que aqui não vai sofrer
      debaixo de meu olhar

      em teu sonho de algodão doce
      não sei do quê dá risada
      e abraça com tanta força
      uma nuvem no céu alçada
      dorme, meu bem, dorme sim
      que aqui o tempo não passa

      E nesse sonho estou lá
      Imaginando, imaginado
      A marca de uma vontade
      Um traço no céu projetado
      Não sei se sou eu que sonho
      Ou se eu é quem sou sonhado

      7 votes
    19. 5 o'clock nostalgia

      So many wants that never were But that were mine nevertheless In the joy of many maybes Slow evening Time is cursed, it goes The body is alive and weary And stuck in hour a soul — immense...

      So many wants that never were
      But that were mine nevertheless
      In the joy of many maybes
      Slow evening

      Time is cursed, it goes
      The body is alive and weary
      And stuck in hour a soul — immense

      Portuguese original

      Nostalgia das 5 Horas

      Tanto querer que nunca foi
      Mas era meu ainda assim
      Na alegria do talvez
      A tarde lenta

      O tempo é maldito e passa
      Ainda vivo o corpo cansa
      E presa na hora a alma - imensa

      7 votes
    20. Gesture

      Saw in you a trace, a gesture without any end a phrase with no reticences a shadow lost in the gaze A question you have not made a plot not yet heard a night with no resolution be calm, the sun is...

      Saw in you a trace, a gesture without any end
      a phrase with no reticences
      a shadow lost in the gaze

      A question you have not made
      a plot not yet heard
      a night with no resolution
      be calm, the sun is not late

      Portuguese original

      Gesto

      vi em você um traço
      um gesto sem fim colocado
      vi frase vi reticência
      suspiro pela metade
      e olhar desencontrado

      da pergunta ainda não dita
      sequer pinçada talvez
      da trama'inda inaudita
      que a noite não tarda ou finda
      mas calma que o sol já vem

      6 votes
    21. My Glowing Pet

      Glowing friend, your light has given me everything I know. To run you require a sacrifice I click open my knife forgotten forever in the drawer with the butterfly yo-yo, the heart necklace of an...

      Glowing friend, your light
      has given me
      everything I know.
      To run you require
      a sacrifice

      I click open my knife
      forgotten forever in the drawer with the butterfly yo-yo,
      the heart necklace of an immature love
      and the compass
      with the atomic symbol.

      With the blade I
      etch
      and cut
      and stab
      to draw sand
      from the glass
      long left unflipped.

      It slides along your surface
      sinks in
      and is gone.

      7 votes
    22. lost

      lost time like grains leaking out an hourglass lost feelings like love leaving a full heart lost purpose like a crusader without a cause all these years, feelings, purpose stolen, violated an evil...
      lost time like grains leaking out an hourglass
      lost feelings like love leaving a full heart
      lost purpose like a crusader without a cause
      all these years, feelings, purpose stolen, violated
      an evil I never invited, never wanted
      it's not my fault, not my goal
      innocent yet guilty
      convicted
      more like cursed
      their hatred is my destiny
      never get back what was lost
      never recover who I could, maybe should, have been
      robbed of a life, of a happy, normal life
      I can't even hate them for it
      can't even have that comfort
      I'd be just as bad, repeat the cycle
      almost sympathetic
      only path, only cure, is love
      creamy center of a cyanide pill
      
      9 votes
    23. fire

      This is a reflection of what building friendships and close relationships is like for me. Mental health makes everything much harder, but I keep trying. it shines and blazes such light and warmth...

      This is a reflection of what building friendships and close relationships is like for me. Mental health makes everything much harder, but I keep trying.

      it shines and blazes
      such light and warmth
      stories told round the hearth
      cold nights kept a safe distance away
      beauty in chaotic dancing patterns
      it promises everything all at once
      no regard for consequences or the future
      just passion in the moment
      no foresight, only enthralling abandon
      its wake is ash
      empty, cold, dead
      no energy
      never burn again
      it destroys what it loves
      what it needs
      not because it wants to
      because it is
      destruction guised as passion
      
      8 votes
    24. Untitled II

      I wanted to write about self-forgiveness because it's such a hard thing for me to do. Past mistakes and trespasses stick in my mind for decades, and it's so hard for me to shake them. This work is...

      I wanted to write about self-forgiveness because it's such a hard thing for me to do. Past mistakes and trespasses stick in my mind for decades, and it's so hard for me to shake them. This work is an attempt at expressing that difficulty.

      Down in the foothills the peak is so perfect
      Covered in pure white snow
      Nary a tree in sight
      The peak carves a visage in the sky
      In the clouds
      It just is, it exists peacefully in its austere authority
      Calm, serene
      Impossible
      Yet I yearn to climb
      To ascend
      Down in the foothills among the trees
      The greenof the hills
      I make my preparations
      Breath
      Training
      Gear
      I practiceand I meditate
      I meditate upona life
      A life of mistakes and triumphs
      Each breath preparing and steeling
      
      It's time to begin my climb
      Each step and the air, the precious vital air, thins
      Lungs emptying and muscles weakening
      And yet I continue
      Not quite undaunted, but I continue
      The views are stunning
      Yet I don't see them, eyes ever on the peak
      Visualizing success, not the process
      It's so cold
      Bitterly, viscerally cold
      There's no air
      Even a yogi must stop for air
      But there's no air
      The ground slick with snow and ice
      Snow and ice with the oxygen I need
      Sealed away in the mystery of the bonds
      Just as beautiful as it is inaccessible
      
      But I continue my climb
      Slipping and falling, the rocks cut and score
      Gashes and bruises amass
      I take a moment and reflect
      Is it worth it?
      Shall I ever ascend?
      And as I slip into meditation, I slip down the mountain
      All progress lost
      The world turns around, up and down
      I lose my breath
      And land, dizzy and hurt, down the bottom
      Even further from the peak than when I started.
      
      11 votes
    25. The Ward; and a goodbye to Tildes.

      First, the piece. I built a fire from the branches which were missed by the snow. Drank the water of the cacti that in deserts still grow. Found the shade in the south where the sun forever glows....

      First, the piece.

      I built a fire from the branches

      which were missed by the snow.

      Drank the water of the cacti

      that in deserts still grow.

      Found the shade in the south

      where the sun forever glows.

      Clawed and scraped my way to freedom

      of likes I have never known.

      .

      A starved, abandoned cub

      lost in Greenlandic champaign -

      I pawed about the lifeless floors

      of snow-imprisoned plains.

      With wind ill-matted fur I marched

      and shivered through the rain

      in search of hearts and hearths to

      make me home again.

      .

      A ward of warmth appeared, assumed

      to aid my ailing mews.

      A securing shawl of summer softened

      me from winters shrewd.

      A multitude of miracles revealed

      rejuvenating news.

      I concluded countless colder winds

      are warmer without you.

      This site has given me so much: peace of mind, freedom of expression, cathartic release, and a sense of care and community of which I, over the last number of months, have deeply been in need.

      Things are looking ever forward as I continue on about adult life. However, included in those plans of forward-action are a number of artistic pursuits.

      In search of some semblance of belonging and community, I revealed a lot about myself in various posts and comments I’ve left about Tildes; and made the mistake of not publishing my works separately or under a pseudonym.

      I would like to publish a book of poetry, release paintings, and create music. However, I don’t feel comfortable continuing to do so under my real name.

      I will be well; I’m in a better place now. (Personally, of course. Not like that.) It’s simply time for me to separate the art from the artist, as it were.

      Thank you all, so much, Tildes. I love you.

      It’s been fun.

      Bishop.

      29 votes
    26. the city

      Something I wrote after watching a scene in the Apple TV+ "The Morning Show" showing an NYC skyline. I've always had a love for NYC, even though I don't live there, and a love for cities more...

      Something I wrote after watching a scene in the Apple TV+ "The Morning Show" showing an NYC skyline. I've always had a love for NYC, even though I don't live there, and a love for cities more generally. I've never not lived in a city after moving out of my parents' place, and can't imagine going back to the suburbs. Cities are my home, cities are where I belong. I don't think this one is finished, yet; there are a few rough spots, and I'm not sure about the ending. But, like people have said in a few of the timasomo threads, the important thing is to get the words out, to make the work exist outside of one's head.

      the city is awake, alive
      lights dance in the dark of night
      little lifesigns, each a past and present
      each a history and a story not yet told
      subways and busses and ubers
      the occasional oblivious cabbie
      (cancer on the streets)
      each moving people to their goals
      their dreams
      veins and arteries in the city's body
      lights for seeing
      superstructure in steel and glass
      inspiration
      aspiration and ambition
      passion and drive
      these power the pulse and the breath
      each person, each cell
      shapes and grows the city, the body
      each experience shapes epigenetics
      no place the same after
      the city takes us all in
      gives us homes
      maybe not shelter, but homes
      we are alive and so is our home
      an energy ineffable yet indelible
      

      edit: A friend has said that this reminds her of the opening of Murakami's After Dark, and I can absolutely see it. Perhaps a bit of subconscious inspiration?

      6 votes
    27. A love poem

      This is something I wrote a couple of weeks ago--not part of Timasomo, but something I'd like to share with folks here. It's becoming more important to me given events in real life and also as I...

      This is something I wrote a couple of weeks ago--not part of Timasomo, but something I'd like to share with folks here. It's becoming more important to me given events in real life and also as I explore yoga more deeply as part of my teacher training program. There's clear inspiration from Whitman's O Me! O Life!, but the message is very modern.

      That the powerful play goes on and you will contribute a verse
      Why not let the verse be love?
      It used to be so easy, so easy, just a simple choice
      Choose love
      All the conflicts of today and every other time
      Not enough love
      For one another
      For ourselves
      Not enough love
      All the religions and faiths of the world
      All our enlightened leaders
      All taught love
      The play used to be about love
      So many acts ago
      Only a few moments ago
      Seems like forever
      Seems we’ve forgotten the lines
      But no one to remind us what they are
      And we don’t get a rehearsal
      We get one grand opening day
      One somber closing night
      No matinee
      No encore
      Why choose any other verse but love?
      Love makes everything else possible
      Makes everything else worthwhile
      Everything else builds on love
      That the powerful play goes on and you may choose a verse
      Choose love.
      

      note: Posted this with the wrong title first, so deleted and reposted.

      7 votes
    28. Untitled poem

      hi I'm here right here I'm on the edge of something big I'm on the edge of something new edge of a cliff--should I step forward? edge of my bed--should I step forward? which side? I'm on the edge...
      hi
      I'm here
          right here
      I'm on the edge of something big
      I'm on the edge of something new
      
                 edge of a cliff--should I step forward?
                 edge of my bed--should I step forward?
                                 which side?
      
      I'm on the edge of my seat
      I'm edgy
          lost my feet
          they went down the cliff
          can't walk
      it's like I'm paralyzed
      the words, they swim before my eyes
      my eyes are swimming
          I can't swim
                  stuck
                  stuck here
            can't move
            at least I can't step off a cliff
            but what does it matter
            if I can't step out of bed
      
      12 votes
    29. GoDaddy Customer Newsletter - A Poem

      A few years ago I got a rather self-congratulatory email from GoDaddy, the domain host, about all the amazing things that their customers do, apparently. Here is a representative excerpt: "One of...

      A few years ago I got a rather self-congratulatory email from GoDaddy, the domain host, about all the amazing things that their customers do, apparently. Here is a representative excerpt: "One of the clearest lessons we've learned is that the one word to describe you best is 'courageous.' You go after what you really love, you chart your own course, and you create something (often from nothing) that usually makes the world a better place."

      I found this rather silly coming from a corporation that hosts fucking domain names. So I was inspired to write the following poem:


      1.

      Dear Firstname Lastname

      earlier this year we embarked on an effort to learn more about you

      what makes you so incredibly unique

      and the values you all have in common

      we learned an equal amount about ourselves

      you go after what you really love

      you chart your own course

      you create something

      (often from nothing)

      whether it’s

      a neighborhood pizza shop

      an organization to help those in need

      or a company poised to launch a new industry

      you believe where others don’t

      you have the guts to strike out on your own

      that’s courage

      and it’s worth every ounce of support we can give

      you’ll always be able to pick up the phone and talk to someone 24/7

      sincerely

      semi-legible signature

      digitally scanned

      followed by a name typeset in Arial

      and a twitter handle

      2.

      i don’t create

      neighborhood pizza shops

      organizations to help those in need

      or companies poised to launch a new industry

      my values are not your values

      i have a blog

      it has a domain name

      which i pay you to maintain

      that is the extent

      of our relationship

      i will go cry in a corner now ok

      sincerely

      a customer

      17 votes
    30. chocolate.

      My phone sits, as I, in silence In my room – alone. I hate myself, but seem to lack the energy To dig into my bones. When I was younger I was told that One day God would call me home. Instead the...

      My phone sits, as I, in silence

      In my room – alone.

      I hate myself, but seem to lack the energy

      To dig into my bones.

      When I was younger I was told that

      One day God would call me home.

      Instead the coffin calls my name in whispers

      And beckons the unknown.

      .

      Why do I feed a body with a

      Soul that keeps depleting?

      When all my hopes and expectations come up

      Short and keep receding – I

      Start alternating between plotting,

      Thinking, pleading

      That I’ll make a rash decision, they’ll

      Give my organs to the needy.

      .

      Perhaps I’ll drive a stake into my head and chest.

      No one should endure this mind or heart.

      Meditation never seemed to give much value,

      All the medication felt a farce.

      I’m an incongruent, uncompleted puzzle

      Dangling from a bridge; falling apart.

      I watch my pieces sink below into the water,

      As this letter dances all about the hearth.

      .

      I carried out important shit in boxes;

      Let the rest behind to be thrown away.

      I hid and watched as they threw in the dumpster,

      A bed now wrought with chocolate and decay.

      As the memories flashed in to my brain,

      Of how we chose to spend that final day.

      (Of how) even on the best day of the end of my life,

      I ended up naked, chocolate-covered, curled up on your chest and crying,

      Begging you to stay.

      .

      The devil is a myth they tell believers;

      Hell prevents their chasing earthly dreams.

      I will not go to Heaven, and there is no Great Receiver

      Who will comfort me and silence my screams.

      There is no purgatory in the ether;

      The earth is this one act’s final scene.

      Fittingly, the water isn’t beautiful here either.

      It’s choppy, warm, and a putrid shade of green.

      .

      Someone use my hands to write a sonnet.

      Someone use my eyes to see a better day.

      Someone use my legs to climb a mountain;

      Use my tongue to find the words to say.

      They’ll use my lungs to feel the oxygen.

      Use my kidney when theirs is in decay.

      They’ll use my heart to feel in love again.

      I’ll rest easier that way.

      10 votes
    31. [Kind Words] moonlight masochist\

      I keep on my journey when the world's asleep, searching you out, like a bewildered sheep. If you'll come to my aid when you see me- with my knees bleeding red on these cobblestone streets. It must...

      I keep on my journey when the world's asleep,

      searching you out, like a bewildered sheep.

      If you'll come to my aid when you see me-

      with my knees bleeding red on these cobblestone streets.

      It must be the price of my earthly sin,

      that I've no food or water for nourishment

      that I crawl alone, in the dark, hoping.

      I am the moonlight masochist.

      ..

      So hear me cry out your name, whoever you are.

      Bring me the moon, and make me your star.

      Protect me like mountains and be my guard.

      Help me sleep sound when the noise is harsh.

      Be the hearth for my fire; the warmth for my heart.

      Get me into a home, and out of the bars.

      Can you hear my infantile, crying heart -

      My moonlight masochist matriarch.

      ..

      I cough as I choke on the poisoned air.

      No one around who seems to care -

      Save for two beady eyes who approach and glare,

      a thin coyote with a hungry stare.

      I only hear howls in monotone

      as two other dogs come sniff my throat

      But at least when they carry off my bones,

      I can kinda say I never died alone.

      ..

      Hear me cry out your name, whoever you are.

      Bring me the moon, and make me your star.

      Protect me like mountains and be my guard.

      Help me sleep sound when the noise is harsh.

      Be the hearth for my fire; the warmth for my heart.

      Get me into a home, and out of the bars.

      Can you hear my infantile, crying heart -

      My moonlight masochist matriarch.

      7 votes
    32. hey i have a question

      it's kinda silly kinda nothing but i was thinkin kinda wondering hey. if i asked. would you pick the loose string from my sweater bring a blanket in cloudy weather go with me on an adventure give...

      it's kinda silly

      kinda nothing

      but i was thinkin

      kinda wondering

      hey.

      if i asked.

      would you pick the loose string from my sweater

      bring a blanket in cloudy weather

      go with me on an adventure

      give a little hug, a little pressure

      would you grab a little snack

      put my favorite towel on the rack

      hear me sing, and try not to laugh

      or light a blunt, hit twice, and pass

      help me dye my hair

      tell me i look cute in underwear

      text me just to say you're there

      snap your cookie just to share

      or rub my neck soft when it hurts

      tell my i've a way with words

      walk to the park when wind's absurd

      just to sip a tea and watch the birds

      tell me that you like my lips

      pick me clothes out for a trip

      head to the lake to skinny dip

      and blush a bit because you like my hips

      could you

      sweat with me at the gym

      fill our popcorn to the brim

      say that this shirt makes me look slim

      and maybe love me limb from limb

      instead of him

      .

      .

      .

      18 votes
    33. boats. (or, Kintsugi Bitch.)

      I was a kintsugi bitch A dull, forgotten, broken pot And then you fixed me up . You lined me with your own dweomercrafted brand of gold Lac, Mel, et Saccharum . And when you’d starve me for...

      I was a kintsugi bitch

      A dull, forgotten, broken pot

      And then you fixed me up

      .

      You lined me with your own

      dweomercrafted brand of gold

      Lac, Mel, et Saccharum

      .

      And when you’d starve me for attention,

      Fed me more from your breast

      Til you filled me up

      .

      And then I’d look you in the eyes

      Sugar broiling in the stomach

      Am I pretty now

      ..

      Lost, full, and quite ignored

      When you had leapt onto the floor

      And said we’ve got to go

      .

      I grabbed your hand and followed blind

      My stomach churned I lagged behind

      You were the love I know

      .

      You said we’re going to the sea

      My dear you’ll spend a life with me

      We’ll make the waves a home

      .

      And I smiled ear to ear

      Cheeks were blushing like a deer

      Am I pretty now

      ..

      And then we made it to the bay

      quickly climbed into a boat

      They never have to know

      .

      We headed south for centuries

      They cannot take the memories

      I never hunger now

      .

      And after weeks of solitude

      A stranger came into the view

      There was another boat

      .

      My stomach burned, concerned,

      Not a soul had stood astern

      You produced a rope

      ..

      You gave a gentle kiss

      And slid the twine across my wrists

      And tied them into knots

      Dipped my legs into the water

      Either hand tied either helm

      Stretched into a cross

      I looked up at you in fear

      Just to see you’ve disappeared

      I started crying out.

      My stomach burned under the water

      And the sun was getting hotter

      And I’m all alone.

      I pleased come to feed me

      Don’t leave me weak, depleting

      I got no response.

      The fish were getting curious

      Flies buzzed something furious

      They knew what I did not

      That if you leave out milk and honey

      In the heat, in weather sunny,

      It’ll start to rot.

      .

      Months had passed in sickly motion

      Head leaned back, my eyes were open

      I died long ago.

      The bugs ate at my open mouth

      My skin was yellow, wrought with drought

      My throat housed a mold

      The waters smelled of sulfate

      As the serpents ate my stomach ache

      My blood has washed away

      The rope gave up on hope and

      Threw my purple, molten corpse into the ocean

      Am I pretty now?

      .

      .

      .

      5 votes
    34. angel (short poem)

      i have no idea where i am who i have been i have the slightest glimpse into the present a wavering image of a time long past my soul sits on siain heights above the fish and birds where we know...

      i have no idea where i am
      who i have been
      i have the slightest glimpse into the present
      a wavering image of a time long past
      my soul sits on siain heights
      above the fish and birds
      where we know endless comfort
      and a burning desire for wisdom
      this version, far away from the peaks
      that I am so accustomed to;
      yet drawn to the body of man,
      who screams in agony as he is raised to the heavens.

      4 votes
    35. metaphysical sigh.

      one day i will die one day so will you. the pictures on the wall will end up in the trash or old and tattered in an attic. our greatest of great-grandkids won't know our faces or how deeply we...

      one day

      i will die

      one day

      so will you.

      the pictures on the wall

      will end up in the trash

      or old and tattered

      in an attic.

      our greatest of great-grandkids

      won't know our faces or

      how deeply we were saddened

      to never see them grow

      to never learn the world they know

      to never speak their modern language

      or watch the trees around them

      grow.

      for we'll be dead in the ground

      and we'll never hear a sound

      for what comes next ain't only silence

      it ain't blood and it ain't violence

      it just

      ain't.

      so for now we're killing time perhaps

      we'll get laid or

      learn to paint.

      but in the end, it all goes out

      into the trash

      into the dust

      and rest assured

      into the ground.

      .

      if you choose to abuse me

      i'd rather hear threats for ever than

      hear no sound.

      because if you're still here to hurt me

      i can say that someone

      stuck around.

      .

      .

      .

      before i'm buried in the ground.

      9 votes