My World, My Continent and My people!

I thirst for that that nothing can satisfy, as nothing seems to make sense, the race, the run and the finish line always fades into nothing.

I doubt that the summer will melt my frosted heart, and reveal the structure of my soul to the eyes that cares to see.

A Tribute to a Soul in Division

soul-in-division:

lilydragonthegnome:

A soul divided cannot stand
Unless it’s held up by a hand
Division, decision, incision scanned
Demands, fans, and unicorn sand
To many lines of profound span
All across the tumblring land
But you know it was done by fans
So sit a top your glorious throne (or on the can)
It’s time for more bettie, man!

Too sweet! :) Made my day. xo

artisticveins:

My words will always feel like a tiny raindrop among the rain, never good enough to make love to the sun ray to give birth to a rainbow. Just a breath looking for lungs that will learn to appreciate it. Or maybe just a beautiful rose left behind on a grave to dry out and die by time. My words are still looking for a home.

je-suiselle:

I dance on the tips of flames,
then cry when my feelings get burned.
One twirl to make the tears dry away. Stop in front of the mirror and frown.
Fingers curiously trace the image staring back.
She looks broken.
Her edges sharp enough to make blood trickle out the points of her fingers.
You try making sense of this.

It was almost a still night
with the stars and the moon apart
but heavenly alive and dignified.
And the best beats of my heart
burning between my lips
withering in craving for a kiss
bear-hug—and tender tease
dying of fear, and bond—unease
that I am a paradise piece
but lost deep within the beam,
the shimmering and the hammering of a departing night
look at me, and look at star light
says the aging wise man of our clan
giving us wisdom as he can
knowing days and love
will leave us toasted and rough
darkened in the heart, not the face
so that our beauty and grace will brace
the drought brooding to rain on praise.
I called the girl that lent me two pieces of cipher
and a consoled  journey when I was horny
surrendering her strength in the morning
to bear my burden
but I couldn’t pluck a star
even though the field was ripen
in truth, and in time
how could I?
When the journey is already trekked
and nothing was easy, or found
all the trial, a teacher, so fond
of the weakness where I wrecked.
From her voice singing as it sounds,
whispering to my heart in neon
I knew to calm almost as the night;
still as the moon and stars, as dark melting the lights.

Brevity

dsdwriting:

babies breath
on a mothers neck
seems like
yesterday

all grown up now,
headin off to war,
kill the enemy or
die

life and death collide
like ocean tides
and sand

momma never
stops feeling it
on the back of
her neck

the babies breath
that is no more.