And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul,...– Sylvia Path (via modernmethadone)
Fuck Yeah, Poetry!: The Starry Night →
fuckyeahpoetry: The town does not exist except where one black-haired tree slips up like a drowned woman into the hot sky. The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars. Oh starry starry night! This is how I want to die. It moves. They are all alive. Even the moon bulges in its orange irons to push...
You improve them, my boy! Can’t you see that yourself? You stimulate them! You...– The Dragon (Grendel by John Garder)
Charles Bukowski - "Downers"
commedesfuckon: some people grind away making their unhappiness the ultimate factor of their existence until finally they are just automatically unhappy, their suspicious upset snarling selves grinding on and at and for and through their only relief being to meet another unhappy person or to create one
Sonnateers 365: E-Day 55: For Toll-Taker →
sonnateers365: The bridges and rivers were my first cathedrals, lined with people of mono- theistic sight lines, set on the sun, losing themselves in the rhythmic sacrament of water. Some would stand with children posed triumphant on their shoulders. Others prayed, their pens or paints dancing silently in their…
It is almost three I sit at the marble top sorting poems, miserable the...– Frank O’Hara. More like at Steve’s
As Planned After the first glass of vodka you can accept just about anything...– Frank O’Hara
But is it enough, that’s what tortures me, is it enough?– Waiting for Godot — Act 1 by Samuel Beckett (via fuckyeahexistentialism)
Lines written in bed,
It is my ugliness that makes love revolve and repulse; I am destroyed in bed by the mere thought of it; my gargoyle frame makes even artistic arousal go dull, at the realization of love’s fragility. O! Woe has made its home my heart! I feel like Quisimodo without the comfort of the bell tower. And in this museum of friendships the dust will not rise from the lips of decayed statues, and...
E-Day 53: For Lent
sonnateers365: I was never afraid of giving up things, just of losing them. Perhaps this year it would be a good idea to give up writing love poems for a time. You see, I’m afraid I’ll lose the quiet joys you gave me, but I will cling to them until this darkness rises up.
In a word, man must create his own essence: it is in throwing himself into the...– Jean-Paul Sartre, Characterisations of Existentialism (via commedesfuckon)
O Tell me the truth about love
The question of love is one that cannot be evaded. Whether or not you claim to...– Thomas Merton (via fuckyeahexistentialism)
What you can’t say owns you. What you hide controls you.– (via nirvikalpa)
I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple...– John Green (via intoxicatedsoul)
Defying belief.: Those who fear everything will do... →
amazingatheist: Those who fear everything will do everything to make you fear them. The deepest sorrows are the ones that seem to eminate from nowhere. Action is a greater virtue than patience. Most who long for life after death refuse to live the life they already have. A virgin is the first to lecture…
The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that...– Albert Camus (via terramantra)
We are protected from so much pain. For example: graves. The earth’s roots and...– For Example, A Flower by Arkaye Kierulf (via leda-swanson)
I no longer love her, that is certain. But how I loved her…– Pablo Neurada
I love you
This I know and feel as well as your pouting lips.
I have heard the mermaids singing each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.
I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the...– Franz Kafka (via troubled)
I don’t want to earn my living; I want to live.– Oscar Wilde (via labyrintho, reluctantbuddha) (via katoire)
If I became a philosopher, if I have so keenly sought this fame for which I’m...– Sartre (via odettenoire)