#Alt lit
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matthew-pasquarello · 1 day ago
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rough slaps ensue when the intentions are counterfeit. lost all this lust, lost all this cure, lost all ability to be grounded when i got all this attention for fascination with all beyond the ozone and just how much us as a species can pollute that too
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meanwhilepoetry · 1 year ago
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I'm just trying to become someone who the child inside me will not hate. I'm trying to be everything she needed and did not receive. She is so lonely still. It's not fair that she is so lonely still.
Nikita Gill
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vomitingwords · 5 months ago
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and then I learned
how to cry
without tears
falling from my eyes
behind clouds // ma.c.a
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longreads · 1 year ago
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In this new Longreads essay, Megan Marz asks: why does the literary world still hold online writing at arm’s length? 
While it’s become banal to observe that online life is fully enmeshed with the rest of the world, an imaginary curtain separates online writing from the rest of U.S. literature. It’s time to take that curtain down.
People like to say the internet speeds reading up, but a personal blog, read in real time, can slow a story’s pace down to the timescale of life; the thickest book in existence can be read in less calendar time. Not even the author knew when a blog would end, which is what made it feel so alive.
Read Megan Marz’s “Poets in the Machine” on Longreads.
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tellherium · 1 year ago
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It was Never about You //
3 of 3: Poems From the First Evening I've Spent Alone in Over a Month
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fantodsdhrit · 8 months ago
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fell asleep your cigarette insomnia charred pillows stannic room flames
to rākshasas shiva granted then deprived
your psychedelic hatred for everything vivid woke up and met itself
an official visualizer song natraja dashboard 
i realised i needed you more than hungry ghost realm
i needed you more than needs' need
the third eye was treacherously unappetizing don't stare at cement dust
they voyage on positive cruelty vibes
you said whatever was to come would now be i waited for you to lie still
so i could be intimately hallway alone
my head as antithesis of shiva's matted hair
my head without strength you assay
if you refuse to perish as a human become a rākshasa
there's a futility to life that only life assumes
like gulmohars spewing leaves icterine
or a kite carrying away furryball squirrel
after that silver fire your room spoke to you but you were half in wyoming
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lipikkawrites · 3 months ago
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-@lipikkawrites
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remnant-thoughts · 2 years ago
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Maybe, time does not heal all wounds. I have been stuck in this cycle too long. Hoping that the years might change  the memory of what reality remains. Acceptance comes in waves, and I have always been short of the shoreline.
“S.O.S” remnant-thoughts
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definegodliness · 1 year ago
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Blindfold
"I lust you", I don't say the words, but suddenly I find it incredibly boring How I crave The heat of her mouth, And the softness of her skin; Her taste, And to feel her nipples stiffen By my kiss. I am bored, By how I long To make her all Shudder under my tongue, Just for fun; I get my kicks When she cums. Don't get me wrong, It isn't dull, or disappointing When she has Her way, nor in every way She grants me Physical ecstasy, But sometimes when she gawks With her mouth full, And her head Empty, Something in her gaze changes
And I realize I haven't felt love in ages.
Then, I don't care How good my body feels When my heart isn't in it; When I want it to be real And can't even get myself to change That one word of the three:
"I lust you."
It is then, suddenly, Profound truths wash over me, And it all seems so incredibly boring To be only this flesh That is So weak, When I used to be a god Shaping golden suns Past the last expansion of space, Chasing the constellations in forever-eyes Wherein resided love's timeless sanctuary; Suddenly, 'want' seems so pale In comparison to 'Need'. I look in her eyes; I look at her eyes; I close my eyes, and just Release.
--- 21-11-2023, M.A. Tempels ©
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the-sum-of-many-poets · 18 days ago
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don’t scare the fishies
baby seal camouflage likes to smoke
hammers a rod into the ground
excalibur if you’re worthy
for the rod is regal
when it bends to the aquamarine
baby seal black sits on his own
a tribe of two
in silent ritual
where all actions have a purpose
the erasure of all woes
I want to ask them if it works
at this point
just the name of a stranger could
but I lean on the word
no
too much
the cars are perched snout first to the water
sea birds for hood ornaments
the bullets of their eyes
aim through the windscreens at the drivers
eating hot chips
seasoned by the sea
& I am a new dog
watching the horizon like a front door
separation anxious
under the lamppost
superfluous in the daylight
the curve of its neck a question mark
a shit stained perch
waiting for the nocturnal romance of night
I watch
with the feathered vagrants
whose need for names are irrelevant
none of us even close to an answer
the question expands
a helium balloon at the circus
we’re not here for the fish
black swans launch from the basalt
a chevron letter on a white sky
the wind seems too light for such large creatures to fly
& the day is large
with no prospect of flight
I am interrupted
two gulls fucking like glasgow industry
in the parking lot next to me
©️david sichler
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matthew-pasquarello · 3 days ago
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a draft in the upstairs hallway while in the office i'm creating myths like pots and pans swallowing sauce but the aroma is much denser and the fragmented slurs could stop the armies right there in their boots. let's stop for a breather let's give up completely let's catch snowflakes of acidic radiation on our tastebuds let's scream till the joy is blatant. plunge so deeply into the pleasantries never soon forgotten like a trip down memory lane dog-eared and uncertain and spreading its leaky formula across the formica terrain till treading is necessary and that plunge was for the best.
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meanwhilepoetry · 1 year ago
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Sometimes I think about how beautiful it is that humans sing despite it all. That through suffering, we still sing. How even on the worst of days in the world, there were still people singing. The way a mother sings a lullaby to her crying baby to soothe her. Or the way sailors sang sea shanties out even on choppy oceans to build a sense of familiarity and camaraderie as they worked. Or how even in the depths of the earth, coal miners sing. Isn’t that the most beautiful thing about the human spirit? That we found a way to reach each other in the darkness. To let each other know through song, that do not worry, I am here. Let us sing together and ease each others fears.
- Nikita Gill
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itsmegallene · 8 months ago
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“I think love is when I put myself to bed even when I'm tired, and I carry myself up the stairs even though my knees ache;
I think love is when I buy coffee when I'm broke, and I know that I'll get myself back later;
I think love is letting myself love someone, even though I am so scared.
Love is a heavy thing that carries you as much as you carry it.”
Source: Anonymous from a Tumblr screenshot
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lebuc · 20 days ago
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revolutions
* bones in my back have felt rain approaching, registered a baby's cry;
move me away, slowly from angry bears wanting my picnic lunch;
repentance looks red from my vantage someone's got to pay for their misdeeds;
the pattering rain provides a fine backdrop for disguising tears like the Temptations wished;
in my soul's disquiet, nonetheless - forward is the future never a rear-view, however ambered.
all to say: when the autocrats
never stepping foot in troughs where real ones tread, deciding who lives or dies or eats
aren't checked,
revolutions will not be televised or publicized; heaven knows. * 9/23 - 11/24 (reblog) - lebuc - revolutions
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tellherium · 1 year ago
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my angel numbers have moved from 111 to 222 and I am doing my best to think more than ever
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fantodsdhrit · 8 months ago
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all night you abandon me slowly heat wave presentiment slowly
shiva will do his tandav worlds ashen won't
there's kali you're kali blackless kali
don't worry no one could outlive life so they cabal atman
in hindi i speak with formal you ancien régime
i speak not as everyone there seems rhythm in destruction not in death
people adopt gods not their caste scions
everyone's a saviour when they don't know what to say
save me from primordial silence paramatman
you still have a refulgent hatred for nootropic lie in cremation
you smother y = love when you find it never desire lie as cremation
shavite and mahasanghik polemic sort of love
we always call someone humbug don't we i couldn't
conservatives hollow out e-waste gunfire
if you love yourself too dearly your reflection will take it the wrong way
there's no formal you in your tongue painting
if the man keeps poison suspended in his throat for you
you can't degrade him me us you you could
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