She wears a wreathe
crafted from seagrass and kelp
on the crown of her head,
draped with luminescent bronze hair.
She wears a chain of pearls
each glossed with illustrious nacre,
a single string of thread holding strong,
with a lone abalone shell, burnished to perfection—
no, beyond perfection.
Just like her.
The sea loves her,
nearly as much as I,
and is unwilling to relinquish her;
unwilling to let her be mine.
She wears a gown of Adam's ale,
and by God, she wears it well.
It cascades slowly down her body,
and my eyes can't help but follow,
a prisoner to her spell.
But she's proudest of the heart she holds,
my heart she carries i
Nous Sommes Charlie - About humans and monsters by Ganjamira, literature
Literature
Nous Sommes Charlie - About humans and monsters
Its not east vs. west.
Its not Christians vs. Muslims.
The IS claims to fight for Allah: but they quit being muslim. Every human not working for IS is persued a "demon" and a legal target.
They quit being religious.
They quit being human.
Hunter S. Thomson wrote:
"He who makes a beast out of himself, gets rid of the pain being a man."
These terrorists did. Long ago.
No muslim, no christian, no bahai, no jew, no buddist, no hindu, NO HUMAN would do this. Theres a border. If we cross it we become something different. We become a beast and we will never turn human again.
Its not east vs. west.
Its not Christians vs. Muslims.
It is Human
One, two, three by projectilewordvomit, literature
Literature
One, two, three
My boyfriend watched, open mouthed
as I unscrewed the lid of your urn,
and ran my fingers through your ashes.
Your depression, your soul dust.
I felt an ocean rolling under my ribs
and an urge to cradle your urn,
rock you back and forth
like you did for me when I was young.
-
At the funeral, my uncle announced
that you hated religion.
But he left out the part
where you did believe in a God,
just that he was always punishing you.
-
“There was nothing you could have done”
said the other uncle.
I think of all those spent wishes,
the birthday candles extinguished for gifts,
the meteor showers I wasted on love,
the prayers offered from
He fell in love
with her handwriting –
the way her dribbled g’s
gallivanted into corkscrews –
the way her s’s
would caress the ends of the letters,
lapping at the plurals
and ever so softly
conveying graphite sibilance –
the way her a’s
had jaunty tails
held high,
the apexes of lowercase –
the way her commas
would pause
and the pencil point would press
ever so
slightly
into the filaments –
the way her cursive
flowed like a landscape
(and they say that pictures
are worth more
than the masterstrokes on her looseleaf) –
the way her hand
had crinkled the paper
as she scribbled a note
on
Perhaps eventually you'll see the way
the wind blows steadily,
shaking the silver fog
away from everyone's silent eyes,
filled with sharp stars.
And one day, there will be miles
to cross before you keep
whatever there was you cared about
before your eternal sleep.
In the thrashing metallic water
that whips creamy waves and
throws fresh foam over and over again,
you can feel the power of the restless ocean deep.
No raft can save you, splinters and raw drift,
from the heavy waves that can
drag you into a forever sleep.
If you must float carefully on the surface,
and throw away your thoughts of your own significance
sadness when my mind is unmapped by spyed, literature
Literature
sadness when my mind is unmapped
sadness.
when my mind
is unmapped.
continuos plans and goals
map
people and noise
unmap
a well designed team
balances imbalances
but my mapped mind
is peace to me
DeviantArt the beneficiary
of a life long collaboration
of mind mappers
mapping
are you under it?
or, is it under you.
it is coming.
surrender your beliefs
open your mind
discomforting
is the idea
What is it that your eyes see?
Looking deep down inside,
To the very heart of me.
Do you see the beating of my heart?
Or my broken soul,
Long since torn apart.
Is it possible that you really know,
Who I am behind the mask,
To the things that make my smile glow.