#anti love poem

[laddersofsweetmisery]

I ate a fig once, by Nikki Howard @laddersofsweetmisery

"It tasted like the sweat-dewed linen of a locker room./Deathly sweet, flowers on its fading breath./No, not fading, more like a black vacuum growing stronger./Empty, soul flying South. Teeth like pliers pulling on every thread.

I swallowed hard, dark lump in my throat formed through/my repressed tongue now tied like hands behind my back./It stung at the mass in my throat believing irritation/was the only way to really savor its nectar.

Believing that good things come to those willing to suffer for it./Willing to die for it. Willing to embrace the lonely,/and the bad, and the hard, and the worth it./Love was earned. A quenched thirst is a reward/

despite the consequences of swollen tongues/and sharpened wings. Drink blood like a butterfly,/sting like a fig, die like a wasp. Love like a woman./Dead like a girl who ate a fig once."

[dumb-aro-dude]

would you guys want to read my poem “fire” about being aromantic? i’m tempted to share it but idk

update: it is now posted, feel free to read!! :)

[poeitryforsomereason]

Hair pulling breath stealing clashing teeth love

Fun in the moment

You leave me feeling dirty

Kisses turn my stomach

I want you to stop touching me

I want to stop touching you

Constant breath on my shoulder fear

Hand on my waist supress a shudder

It feels like a chore to be a good partner

I feel the love but not when I'm alone

I am happy when I'm alone

I am made to be loved but not love back

[evil-toast-789]

Stuff Back

I want my stuff back.

I don’t mean just my sweaters and extra toothbrush.

I want back my time.

I want back the effort I put into you.

I want the care back.

I want to be the person I was before.

I want you stop. I want you to stop acting like I’m scum of the Earth.

I want you to get out of my life.

I want you to stop acting as if I’m the main reason everything happened, even though it was a two way street.

You didn’t deserve the love I gave and you don’t deserve it now, yet I still feel like I need to protect you. Why is that?

I want that all back, but I don’t think you’d give it back even if you could.

I used to be my happiest with you.

I’m not saying I was flawless.

But I am saying that you have plenty to take responsibility for.

I don’t think you ever will.

[poetsdaily]

i used to think i didn’t know how to love, that i could never learn, but i think i know now because it wasn’t that.

[palesoftangel]

@/Bassem Youssef on instagram.

[dootznbootz]

I don’t have a link but I saw a post along the lines of “EPIC fans trying to gaslight themselves into thinking Odysseus wouldn’t cheat (he does in the books)” and I nearly had a conniption.

Some people WERE arguing he was assaulted, but other people were saying it depends on the interpretation and saying he has a child with Circe and that he stays on the island with her for a year. I also saw someone say he was just lying about being assaulted on another post about it.

The Odyssey/EPIC fandom is so exhausting I’ve thought about blocking everything sometimes ngl. It’s so hard to filter out posts like that. But there’s so much amazing art and content about it I don’t want to stop seeing it.

No, like that's the struggle of it.

I Love Epic and I technically got into the Odyssey BECAUSE of Epic. But I'm a hardcore Odyssey girly. I adore it so much. I've read 8 translations at this point because I love it so much and it's fun for me! And Epic is in no way a replacement for the Odyssey (Jay even says that it's not! he's simply inspired by the Odyssey) and it feels like high quality fanfiction of the Odyssey (FUN! JOYOUS WHIMSY! I still like it! :3 ).

But holy shit, like, both Epic AND Tagamemnon fans can be so fucking exhausting. (I am a fan of both. I can say this.)

(Obviously I'm not talking about everyone. <3 I've made many friends and have met lovely people in both fandoms.)

Like while yes, Epic!Odysseus isn't coerced/raped by either of the goddesses, that's simply because of the fact that Jay simply felt like he wasn't well equipped to handle such dark topics to that extent. And I honestly respect him for that! He knows his limits with the story he wanted to tell and that's good! And in general I think he did a fantastic job handling the aspects of it he did touch on (Coercion with Circe's threatening in "There Are Other Ways" is done well imo.)

(ngl, I kind of take back what I said about "Not Sorry for Loving You". I think a lot of my reaction was initially from my fear of how fandom would react. But I've been delightfully surprised seeing how (for the most part) Epic Fandom has really come through to show the "fucked up-ness" of that song)

THAT DOES NOT MEAN THAT ODYSSEUS IN THE ODYSSEY IS A SHITTIER HUSBAND BECAUSE HE, IN THE ANCIENT TEXT, CANNOT SAY NO TO A GODDESS.

Greek Mythology isn't like Percy Jackson where 12 year old Percy beat Ares. (I was a PJO KID TOO!) It's not "Odysseus didn't try hard enough" fucking victim blaming btw because HE LITERALLY CANNOT REFUSE OR THEN HE'LL (AND HIS FRIENDS IN THE CASE OF CIRCE) WOULD DIE!!!

Like I wrote a whole ass essay on Circe's Situation (I feel so preachy and shitty about having to constantly bring it up but I will as much as I have to to get people to listennnn) and in general, if you can't see what's happening with Calypso, you've got your head up your ass and/or are just looking away because you don't like the actual implications of what's happening. For the main "gripe" I've seen with Calypso with how "He enjoyed her company at first", @lyculuscaelus has a great essay breaking that down.

And before? ODYSSEUS HAS NO LISTED CONCUBINES! And he brings up Penelope often in the Iliad!

And the whole "lying about being assaulted", I'm sorry but if someone is holding the "Men were so sexist that they couldn't possibly care about the women in their lives or have been victims" idea, then why would Odysseus willfully share that he was raped by women? Who, as they say, were viewed beneath him? Why would he lie about something that would put him in such a humiliating light?

Btw, Menelaus (sealy boy!!!) even says that he's being held captive by Calypso with what he learned from Proteus! Menelaus isn't known for telling stories!

I feel bad as like, I used to LOVE going into the tags and finding creators I haven't seen before and cheering them on! Art and Fics and yay! But like... It's sometimes so disheartening going in there and seeing nonsense or bad takes ;~;

Honestly, as much as I DO enjoy Epic, I think that hopefully once the hype dies down a lil, it'll chill out more :') We'll all be okay!

[aesthetic-gem]

TRSMP The End Poem

I see the ones you spoke of.

Them?

Yes. Careful. They have done the impossible. They know we are here.

That doesn’t matter. We are unreachable.

I am curious about them. They fought well. They did not give up.

They are reading our thoughts as though its their own words.

That is how they perceive us.

They are still naive. I guess thinking they won is less terrifying than staring at the reality behind this world they are in.

Many came before them. Back then, the first one that came in search of glory failed, and suffered for it, as we predicted, their ambition led them right to our creations.

What did happen to them?

They became bound to this realm of theirs, hidden in their own corner of this vast universe, away from our eyes, but no hope of returning back to the lives they had. Corrupted by our creations.

Hah, the original plague. Ages old, our masterpiece, and it still does its purpose. But what of them now?

They remained, these Keepers, hoping to one day bring in the heroes that would save them from the very things that made them.

They cannot be saved.

No. They cannot. Their misplaced knowledge led their heroes astray. That is, the evil they so feared was not their true enemy, we are still here, waiting.

Do they know what we are? That we control the very awe of these realms? That the Eye and the Dragon were our doing?

Perhaps, though there is nothing they can do, most of them are too far gone. And their heroes cannot truly reach us.

The heroes. I am sad about this new reality of theirs. Stuck in this world with a task they cannot fulfil, hailed as heroes of a realm that is not truly theirs.

To give them meaning would ruin the fun. Their sought after purpose is part of their role in this game. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when I see them meaninglessly walk their paths or build their buildings, I want to tell them, mock them, that what they are doing is effortless. Sometimes I want to tell them of their insignificance to the universe.

They now read our thoughts.

I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, that the world you think you hold is merely a reality of our own, I wish to tell them that they are meaningless. They see so little of reality, blind to the truth.

And yet here they are.

But it would be so easy to destroy them.

To rob them of their life is to prevent us from enjoying a magnificent end.

I will not kill them.

They are growing restless.

I will simply keep watching.

You give them perseverance.

There is nothing they can do.

Give them a body, again.

Yes.

Call their names.

Heroes. Warriors in this game of ours.

Good.

Breathe. Feel the air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Move your fingers. Have a body again, under space, under time, under us. There you are. Your body is in our universe again, its as though you were waking up from a long dream.

Who are we? We have been worshiped as many things. The Sun. The Moon. Ancient Spirits. Gods. Demons. Angels. Abominations. Beings not from this plane of existence. The universe itself. The words change. But we do not.

We are reality itself. We are everything you think isn’t you. We are everything that has been and is to come. You are looking at us now. through the eyes we have given you. And why do we do so? To learn. To adapt. To spread. Let me tell you a little story.

Once upon a time, there was a Human.

That human was you, hero.

Sometimes they thought themselves human, sometimes, something only they could imagine, in every universe it came across, it had the choice to be who they were, or who they wished to be.

Sometimes that human would makes choices they regretted, sometimes, they would leave something behind that they never finished.

Sometimes that human was just another “someone” in someone else’s story.

Sometimes that human was other things, in other places. Sometimes they were happy, sometimes they had hardships, sometimes they wished they could go back.

Sometimes that human watches words on a screen.

Let’s return to the story.

The human’s conscience was severed from these new worlds. Yet somehow, they always managed to overcome the severance and become real.

The human woke up, being welcomed to the world.

And the human lived a new story, never told before, a creation of their own making.

You are that human. That story. That thing we want to learn from.

Sometimes the human lived in worlds of their own, empty, lacking of others, yet they still kept going. We want in.

Sometimes they gave it a name, like someone who discovered a new species.

Sometimes they believed they were in a universe made just for them.

You are that human, hearing our story.

Shush… Sometimes the player would read lines on the screen. Translating them into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and so the human woke up again, they were alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, they lived another day on this new universe.

You. You are alive.

And sometimes that human believed it was the main character of its own story.

Yet this reality did not care.

Yet this reality is stronger than them.

Yet this reality only watches.

Yet this reality wants to see them fall.

Yet this reality wishes to learn from them.

Yet this reality seeks to burrow in.

Yet this reality is us.

Yet this reality will get into your other worlds.

And that’s how the game is meant to play out. A cycle of life and death under our watchful eye. It’s only a matter of time.

You are the ones that we were waiting for.

Wake up. “Heroes”.

[love-ardour-anarchism]

somedays I feel everything at once and I can scarcely tell where my love poems end and where my anticapitalist ramblings start

[lainalit]

[authenticity2025]

I’m not anti-social; I’m pro-solitude. Beth Buelow

[grhmwtts]

“Better” b/w “Satiated • July 9th, 2024

Photos by Jen Talesman

[kaleb-is-definitely-sane]

I feel like we have truly forgotten that poetry is intellectual. That art is intellectual. I’m not saying that you need to write following a whole lot or rules — heck I freaking love Wild Nights by Emily Dickinson which is written in Free Verse — it simply shouldn’t be simple. Because we as humans — and our human mind, heart, soul and spirit — are not simple. We are complex. So our art should be complex. We shouldn’t try to simplify complex topics for marketability, we should be delighting in the actual nature of poetry which is that it is how our souls speak. At this point we truly must fight for the survival of poetry. Not just poems but poetry. Soul. Sublimity. Passion. Beauty. Romance. Love. Poetry. Because it is a war, and indeed the very casualty might be our hearts and souls.

[crims0nang3l]

[motelroom7]

I woke up, and the grief was murderous. Sufficiently insufferable. I am so happy and so sad. So sad, I want to write the shit out of it, but I didn't. The memoir, my Amor Fati, this rooting journey and how to fall asleep at night with myself, who most parts longing for a sanctuary. But, I don't belong. There's only one hideaway. It would entertain me by strange dreams and nightmares. A lot of explicit dreams in the past nights of July. An adulting fantasy at its finest. The opposite of dream is nightmare, I had one of many about being in a car with my mom, dad and brother - we were on a ride at the edge of the sea and the car flipped right into the water but I escaped while the others drowned in. How ironic, my life is a movie. The Evil Eyes are watching me, perhaps. Reading me through the mirror shaped like a door to the abyss I just placed in my room. I'm happy to get to see how much I have grown day by day, and I remember death, so I shy away on wanting too much. But in nature, I'm still a naughty rebellious girl. My growth goes, for an instance, not from the root of a tree but from its trunk being cut down. Now I understand why some trees were slaughtered or plants get trimmed, it's for them to grow anew. Just like hair scientifically. Just like me. I missed a lot of July's sunlight, and my favourite park is like my other abandoned hobbies and dreams. I befriended the capitalistic sapiens and let them milked blood out of my breast. Forgive me, for I have sin to keep this lung pumping and this heart beating. My after effect should cause them to grow fonder of life that is not merely all about hustling to the grave, but a good life is like having access to real nourishing food and as simple as real love should be and divine intervention to guide through path after path. In case life ends, I don't want us to leave an empty journal we wished to write because time is truly brutal, and the metaverse has taken us over. What we feel and think is precious, more than any currency will ever be, and AI will never reach a human's peak.

[someonesrealityshifting]

I couldn’t download it properly with the sound, but this is my favorite poem in the history of the world. Thank you 100 times over @zipperrants for finding it again for me 🙏