Empyrean01 - Empyrean🍒

“It’s not ‘natural’ to speak well, eloquently, in an interesting articulate way. People living in groups, families, communes say little–have few verbal means. Eloquence–thinking in words–is a byproduct of solitude, deracination, a heightened painful individuality.”

— Susan Sontag, As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh (via the-book-diaries)

sorry for documenting my suffering and delusions online do you still think im hot

“I want to fall in love with every single piece of you, the soft ones ,but also the hard ones. I want to know the real you : your pretty side,but also the dark side. I want to be by your side when you lose control, when you’re sad,when you’re happy, when you’re a dreamer. Every part of you belongs to me , I want to know it and I want to love it . For short I want to love you.”

— @maraa14

Inst @rikkekrefting

I listened to Bukowski this morning, and I realized my writing is not raw enough, angry enough, drunk enough; I even drink red wine instead of cheap beer. I detest cigarettes, never served in war, or roamed the streets looking to settle on the bed of some dude’s crude floor. I’m too feminine, too much an inherent believer in the quality of people. My heart is adversely set against his heretical ways. I’ve never been stabbed in the back by love, or if I have, I pulled the prick out years ago, and time and forgiveness have sealed the scar over. I might have even forgotten where the wounds are buried. I never carved mistakes out of people, stole time in self destruction, stared into the holes of another’s deceit. I’m not modern enough to be a true angst-filled American poet. I don’t possess the tongue to squeeze lemon over my open lesions letting them ooze into a glass I pour out as charity for the masses. Come, let me sacrifice hopelessness for the voyeurs. No, I only know to write of the way his lips taste the soft worlds within my seascape, the slant of patchwork light filtering through the hallway window, jewel-toned shells that satiate my harlequin heart. I only know of simple subjects; I’ve somehow been denied the stench or overlooked the cracked places harboring broken bottles and blood-stained lips. Does that make me any less a poet, I wonder.

upon reading Bukowski//

Rhapsodyinblue45

4.8.18

Her

Poetry is when a heart aches of love, pure genuine love, an offspring of happiness. It is when tears run down your cheeks due to the amount of love one can feel. it allows you a moment of pure ecstasy, so hypnotic to the eye of one who has once felt that pure love. Poetry is art. Art that creates ethereal imagery in your heart, and mind.

28/10

Happy International Lesbian Day, and shout-out to all our lesbian followers!

If you’re looking to learn some lesbian history to celebrate the day, check out our episodes on these wonderful women - it’s impossible to say for certain if all these women were lesbians, but they definitely have a place in our conversations about the history of women loving women!:

Anne Lister - 19th century English landowner who journalled the intimate details of her love affairs with women in Secret Lesbian Code.

Audre Lorde - self-described “Black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet” who fought for women who, like her, were excluded from mainstream US feminism, whether because of class, race, sexuality, or disability.

Yoshiya Nobuko - prolific author whose popular works on friendships and romances between women made her the richest woman in Japan

St Brigid of Kildare - 5th-century abbess whose rejection of marriage and relationship with fellow nun Darlugdach has made her an inspiration to Irish queer women

Chavela Vargas - Costa-Rican-born musician who put a lesbian spin on traditional Mexican music

Bíawacheeitchish - a renowned warrior, and highly ranked Crow chief in the 19th century, who married four wives (note this image is of Barcheeampe, a possibly-fictional Crow woman who may have been inspired by Bíawacheeitchish - we sadly have no pictures of Bíawacheeitchish herself)

[Images: portrait of Anne Lister; photograph of Audre Lorde next to blackboard which reads “Women are powerful and dangerous”; Yoshiya Nobuko; stained glass window of St Brigid; Chavela Vargas singing on stage; line-drawing of Barcheeampe on a horse holding a spear]

Her

‪i could talk about the way she made me feel all day long, i had spent days and nights day-dreaming of the spontaneous adventures i longed to have with her‬

with my bare imagination, i could outline on a blank canvas the shape of her torso all the way down her hips

or the way her face lightened up when she shyly smiled

god knows how jolly my days would be with her divine presence

god knows she would be the cause of my sanity as without her, my heart turns wild and i lose my sanity unable to control my emotions and endlessly longing for love only she could give me

joy, only her eyes could give me, and freedom only she could grant me.

for her i would steal the sky a million times and over

for the joy she gives me has no price,

i would leap over mountains and cross oceans to simply listen to her speak of all her anime fantasies and all her favorite characters, to listen to her dreams and all the weird food combinations she loves.

tonight I can write (the saddest lines) by pablo neruda / interview with andrew garfield on the late show / hilary stanton zunin / glass, irony, and god by anne carson / fleabag (2016-2019) / maya angelou / the return of the king by jrr tolkien / wandavision (2021-) / jamie anderson

Matthew Koma - Suitcase