#longish poem

[peace-and-light-poetry]

Why She Voted

She had her opinion On a subject but also her obligations That dreaded day

Was approaching And would be here soon

She mused on the current goings And how they've affected her existence

She has someone she loves But she knew that, if certain powers had their way, Her relationship would be punished

In the not-so-distant past, Relationships like hers were punished Just being seen together

Could've landed them in the courthouse (or worse)

One landmark verdict was overturned Because these powers had their way But there was another verdict that came before

And she feared that one would be next

She thought of him as she voted Things were supposed to march forward Not fall backwards

She voted to keep the powers at bay She may not have cared for either side But she saw the consequences

Of when the opposing side got their way

That landmark verdict wasn't too long ago 55 years can be surprisingly short in a grand scheme She loved him very much

So much that She'd be damned if she didn't vote There are people who would hate

To see them together In any way shape or form

(too many are emboldened enough to act on it)

To be without him was saddening One side was bad but, at least, They wouldn't punish her relationship

The other side had their way And she saw the consequences

She voted Because she loved him too much To risk otherwise.

[sadowlswriting]

I remember the mornings before school.

My mother would come in the room and wake me up, and I'd mutter,

"five more minutes, please, just five more."

And she'd leave,

then exactly five minutes later she'd return.

The process would repeat, but on the second time she'd laugh,

she'd laugh and say,

"Come on, you're going to be late."

As she'd peel the blankets from my body, and untangled my small fingers gripping tightly onto them.

She always was stronger than me, in every way.

And, I'd ever so slowly roll myself out of bed

and crawl down the stairs.

I'd eat toast, as I begged my mother to let me have the day off,

"call in sick, say I'm not well, please mom."

And she'd sigh.

She'd apologise,

and in return

I'd sigh back.

I'd finish my toast,

brush my teeth,

get dressed,

and pack my bag.

Then she'd stand behind me,

with a bobble around her wrist and a brush in her hand.

She'd brush the tiredness out my hair,

that was tangled in all the knots

with such gentle strokes that I've never had from another.

She'd brush my hair back,

and put it in a high ponytail,

tuck the curly side pieces behind my ears,

as she stood in front of me.

She'd smile,

and I'd smile back

with gaps in my teeth.

I stand in front of the mirror,

a comb in hand,

I brush through the strands.

Never as gently as my mother,

my heavy-handed hands could never grasp the concept of being that gentle with myself.

My heavy-handed hands could never tend to the wounds and bruises on my skin, as tenderly as she could;

Could never hold me with as much warmth as her palms held,

My hands are cold, and they tremble from my own touch,

My own touch that's not as nurturing as hers, because these hands have left marks on my skin from frustration, wasted time spent healing cuts just to pick at them again, dug nails deep till red indents were left.

These hands are not my mother's;

They are mine

And they itch to learn to be as light feathered as hers were.

-Owl.

[felicitousfeline]

My skin smells like your soap

Like tentative hope and something

unnameable, shaking its way through my

fingertips

I'm driving again, white-knuckled

grip on a steering wheel exactly as much

younger than me as I am than you

The silk-darkness on all sides

swallowing me

(I didn't turn on my brights,

I don't want to see what's ahead of me)

Late-spring warmth broken by the breeze

forced through my half-open window

Sunroof yawning like a skylight into the void

Radio loud enough, almost, to

drown out the cacophony between my ears—

"So break yourself against my stones—"

it sings to me, and my face is wet

Grieving, grieving, grieving all over again

how can I ever be happy when I refuse to allow myself contentment

something is wrong with me

You're here again. It's all I've wanted

Right?

...right?

...but it's not the same

Yesteryear's bruises take their sweet time healing

I have to wonder which of us is breaking,

and which of us is the stones

Will you wait for me to be okay?

Is it worth your time?

will I let myself enjoy this?

I drive on,

and I do not turn on my brights.

[guarding-rose]

Power outage at the factory. Sat on a pallet. Never felt closer to feeling I'm somewhere sacred.

[tuulikannel]

That poll I reblogged, about having another name than your birth name, led me to think about my online nick... I can't remember for sure when it was, but I think it might have been around the year 2000 when I discovered fanfiction.net and started reading fanfics. And then I figured I should come up with some consistent nick to sign my (anon) reviews.

I've never really had any nicknames, so at first I didn't have a clue what to use. Then I thought that maybe something from Finnish mythology would be nice, and in the end ended up with Tuulikki. Tuuli means wind, -kki is an ancient ending for female names. It was also my mother's middle name, and I think this was relatively soon after her death (which means it'd have been in 2001). That made the choice pretty obvious to me.

Honestly, back then I had no idea I was picking a name I'd be using for years to come, everywhere online. ^^; I just wanted something with which to sign my reviews... After a while I dropped off the -kki ending (Tuulikki is very prone to being misspelled by non-Finns, I noticed ^^;;) and so I ended up with Tuuli. As both Tuuli and Tuulikki are often taken, I sometimes use other variations, like tuuli-chan (heh) back in the old days of LJ, or tuulikannel (wind harp) here on tumblr. That latter one's fitting also in the sense that I play kannel (or kantele as it's more commonly called. A Finnish traditional instrument.) Sometimes I've also used tuulentupa which literally means wind's cottage and figuratively, castle in the air. (We're not that fancy here, we just have cottages, no castles XD)

Another reason I like the name tuulikannel is that there is a poem by Eino Leino by that name. It made a great impact on me when I first read it, and only way later I've fully understood why. I did see myself in it. I have no idea what the poem really is about, but the beauty of poetry is that you can have your own interpretation... and I see someone aroace in it. But I think I'll put the rest of my poetry analysis behind a cut, cause I feel like I'm really going off on a tangent here, I was just gonna make a short post about my username... XD

Here's the first verse of that poem, in original Finnish followed by my extremely literal, not-even-attempting-to-rhyme translation:

Muut sydämen saivat, ma kantelen, muut murehti, nautti, ma en, ma en, en kurja ma elää, en kuolla voi, kun sykä ei syömeni, soi, vaan soi!

Others got a heart, I, a harp, others sorrowed, enjoyed, but not me, I, poor wretch, cannot live, nor die, as my heart doesn't beat, it only rings!

This makes me so strongly think about that comic about an aroace girl whose heart is blue, not red like everyone else's. (This one.) That feeling that there's something wrong with your heart - with you - when you can't feel what others feel. That feeling of being different, and the loneliness it brings.

Third verse (it's a longish poem, I'm not going to go through it all)

Mun syömeni tuulikannel on, sen kielissä laulu on lakkaamaton, se yössä, päivässä, yksinään soi ilmahan ijäti väräjävään.

My heart is a harp of the wind, in its strings an unending song, in the day, in the night, all alone, it echoes in the shivering air.

From the aroace pov, this is interesting to me. There is a song in the heart, but it sings it alone. Should the heart have a rhythm then, rather than a melody? A rhythm it could share with someone (two hearts beating as one...) But why is rhythm more important than melody? Or is the problem the loneliness of the heart? Perhaps the heart is longing for another one to join the song. Or perhaps it has simply been conditioned to feel that way, by the surrounding society. A lonely heart isn't a good thing, we all know that, right? And if you're alone, you got to be lonely! But surely the song of a single heart can be beautiful, too.

Jumping to the end of the poem, now:

Kiro katkera, julmuus jumalien: Itse orja, ma vapautta veisailen, itse lemmetön, lemmestä laulan ma, itse tunnoton, viritän tunteita!

A bitter curse, the cruelty of gods: I, a slave, hum freedom, I, loveless, sing about love, I, unfeeling, evoke emotions!

This ending. I've always felt it pretty strongly. Sure, I don't write much romance, but it does exist in my stories too. Yet it is something I personally know nothing about, and never will. I would not call this a bitter curse, though, but I do understand that view. Again, I'm think of that girl in the comic... I can understand how this could feel like a curse to some.

I first used tuulikannel for my writing journal on livejournal, and this poem was pretty much the reason why. It felt so perfect, back then. I do connect to it now, too, but I would like to give the poet a hug. ^^ Let your heart sing its songs! I do rather have a kantele as my heart than a drum, anyway. ^^

[moondust-bard]

Quick give me your best advice for writing poetry

I have to write a longish one for my English class, but all I know how to write are haiku poems :(

[finishinglinepress]

FLP CHAPBOOK OF THE DAY: Yelping the Tegmine by Cal Freeman

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee:

https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/yelping-the-tegmine-by-cal-freeman/

Cal Freeman is the author of the books Fight Songs (Eyewear, 2017) and Poolside at the Dearborn Inn (R&R Press, 2022). His writing has appeared in Dunes Review, Oxford American, The Poetry Review, River Styx, Southword, Passages North, Hippocampus and elsewhere. He lives in Dearborn, MI and teaches at Oakland University. #poetry

PRAISE FOR Yelping the Tegmine by Cal Freeman

The paragraphing of verse in English turns on the cusp of Lyrical Ballads, not from the familiar to the strange, but the opposite, from the weirdness of heightened speech to the conversational pitch of emotion which, upon reading it, we seem to have always known. Cal Freeman’s poetry scaffolds a similar structure through which his lyric moments flash. He cannot disguise that he is a Detroit poet, and unlike Levine, who abandoned (except in poetry) the once smoking landscape of Southeast Michigan, this increasingly accomplished poet has engaged a life there that is complex and erudite. His is a first-rate talent. Loss is his common topic, and there is a deep philosophical openness to the work of grief. Showing uncanny patience for the thought of longish poems, Freeman holds onto what unfolds for him and then what is revealed for us; as with all good poets, we do not know what he is after at first, but in such wonderfully titled poems as “Dichotomy Paradox as a Non-Fungible Token,” “Yelping the Tegmine” (the title poem), and “Adrian Dantley (AD) Circa 1890s,” we ourselves might say, as we arrive at our understanding, that it’s “the first time [we] remember feeling this way.”

–Kevin Cantwell, author of One Thousand Sheets of Rice Paper

“Nothing really ends, you think, looking out across the lake and knowing otherwise.” This is a book full of haunting poems. Barrooms, Inns, cafes, restaurants, rivers, lakes, memories of places and hard working people living or lost, what’s said and unsaid, the poet alone, reading a book of poetry sipping a whiskey at a bar also shadowed by its past, and always the “returning to something: song, place, or figment.” Cal Freeman’s masterful craft, attention to word, phrase, and detail leave us in awe of his talent. “…the walleyes have minted my irises/ on a bed of sediment and turned them into silver” he says, and we are hooked on his “… certain kind of singing.” Ideas shift mercurially from micro to macro, leap from the quotidian to the philosophical immersing us in real worlds woven with loss yet so alive and vibrant that his poems become the ultimate tribute, an act of preservation and resurrection, and all the while the constellation Tegmine continues to shine over us all.

–Zilka Joseph, author of In Our Beautiful Bones, Sparrows and Dust, and Sharp Blue Search of Flame

Please share/please repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetry #chapbook #read #poems

[justahopelessaromantic]

The punks are writing love songs (Oh-oh)

Fandom: South Park Ships: Style, Stendy, Tolkien/Nichole, and Bendy Disclaimer: The author of this work does not condone/endorse the messages, themes, and concepts presented by South Park. Considering how said work is melodramatic gay fanfiction written in theatrical script format of all things, I'm sure this seems reasonable to assume. However, it’s astonishing how many times I've stumbled upon people in this fandom who are wholehearted believers of almost everything the show says, and, quite frankly, I would rather evaporate from this plane of existence than potentially be presumed as a bigot or, god forbid, a centrist. Summary: "Abbreviate the longish names / You can bet that hearts will beat (Ooh-ooh) / The sort-of clever and nostalgic ones / Will sing their poems at breakneck speed" (Or:) It's a common writing practice among the pretentious and the soulful to put a little piece of themselves into their work, like a prize or easter egg of sorts for the listener to find. No one gave Nichole the memo.

SETTING:

The edge of a school cafeteria. Two wide exit doors are implied by characters walking off stage. Three standard lunch tables are scattered about the right side of the stage. Two or three teens, at least one of them eating something visually dull and unappetizing off of a lunch tray, sit at various tables, implying lunch is almost over and students have begun to leave in preparation for class. The tables look improperly washed, and there’s litter and a touch of graffiti scattered around the place. Optionally, a wilting potted plant can hang in the corner and/or posters, either inspirational or about school info., can be plastered haphazardly over some of the wall’s damages.

STAN is sitting at the table closest to down right, one chair away from the very edge. He’s clearly frustrated, yet incredibly focused, to the point where it looks like he’s at least partially unaware of his surroundings. He constantly switches from scribbling on a notepad, furiously erasing, and fiddling with the acoustic guitar hanging off his shoulder. NICHOLE emerges from stage left, briskly walking to the exit before stopping in her tracks. TOLKIEN sits at the opposite end of the table, patiently taking notes on his laptop from a textbook.

NICHOLE

(Whipping back around to take up the chair next to him, throwing her backpack on the floor.)

Oh, hey, Stan! So you’re still working on that song, right? About the guy and his girlfriend and the freaking out over,

(Taking an audibly sharp breath before taking on the stereotypical performing voice of a Shakespearean actor, gingerly placing a hand over her heart)

“The divine horror of impending familiarity found deep within the labors of a dear lover”,

(Teasingly)

As you so pretentiously named it?

TOLKIEN

(Looking up at the sound of her voice before smiling like he knows exactly what's about to happen, slowly closing his laptop, and pushing it to the side so he can rest his head on hand to watch them)

STAN

(Jerking up at the sound of her voice, decently surprised by her sudden and energetic involvement, before adjusting and gradually responding with a calm and friendly demeanor)

…I mean…as humiliating as it may be to admit, I write, like…a lot of those. You’re gonna wanna be a tad more specific.

NICHOLE

(Acting playfully exasperated before breaking out into a smile and lazily pointing a finger in Tolkien’s direction)

Oh, I know. You're more of a romantic than this dill weed.

TOLKIEN

(Fondly)

Takes one to know one.

NICHOLE

(Scoffing bashfully and waving her wrist)

Shut up.

STAN

(Clumsy jerking away as she grabs his notebook from underneath him, shooting Tolkien a comically exaggerated stupefied look)

TOLKIEN

(Casually shrugging his hands up while smirking)

NICHOLE

(Stealing the pen from Stan, startling him again, and jotting stuff down, occasionally glancing back up to check if he’s paying attention and emphasizing with her hands)

Ah, here we go! Okay-

(Getting distracted)

It’s turning out lovely, by the way. I mean it’s probably gonna be up there with “Dropping Like Fireflies” and “My Favorite Boy, My Dearest Wildfire”. I guess it's fitting, though, since the first one’s about the death of your dreams, and the second one’s about unjust yearning that everyone figures is getting kinda old, and they’re both really about outgrowing opportunity that sort’ve, may or may not have been real in the first place, and so is this, but…I mean…I hope you don’t take this as critique. Just, like…an idea or something.

STAN

(Speaking drastically slower than her and grinning with amusement)

Considering I only scribble this shit on McDonald’s napkins for geniuses like you to pick apart later, I would be delighted to hear it.

NICHOLE

(Sighing in slight relief)

Oh! Great. Okay, so-

(Stealing the pen from Stan, startling him again, and jotting stuff down, occasionally glancing back up to check if he’s paying attention and emphasizing with her hands)

Imagine you’re the guy, right? 

STAN

(Playfully saluting with two fingers)

Can do, teach!

NICHOLE

(Lightly giggling)

And you're at her doorstep, picking her up for your date, and you notice how she’s only wearing a super casual dress, like one you don’t have to zip up or anything, you just throw it over your head and you're good? But usually, she dresses up for this kinda thing, with, like, a buncha layers. Like, like one of the characters from a Disney sitcom from the 2000s, yaknow what I mean?

STAN

(Nodding ridiculously intently, like he completely understands what she means. He does not)

NICHOLE

(Smiling brightly before cheerily going back to it)

Right! So she’s dressing weird, and she keeps messing with her hair, even though she never does that, ‘cause it takes her forever to do, and she hates messing it up. And then she calls you babe, instead of babydoll, which she never does. And then- And she’s not looking at you when she says this! She’s looking out at the distance, like, wistfully and forlorn!

STAN

(Jumping in with overzealous intrigue after Nichole realizes how pretentious those words might sound and how into it she’s been getting and freezes up)

Yeah, okay, I’m following ya!

NICHOLE

(Seeming pleasantly surprised, yet still visibly toning herself down)

Oh! But, ah, anyway. So then she starts complaining about how she had to leave some big sleepover early for this damn date, and that she and what’s-her-name planned it for weeks. Even though you always have date night around this time of the month and she scheduled it today anyway, which sets off alarm bells in your head, but whatever, right? You're probably just being paranoid again, and that’s what she’s gonna diagnose you with, ‘cause she’s a total, sort’ve…

(Gesturing unintelligibly and then later trying to catch her breath)

…armchair therapist anyway, and you’ve done that with your best friend too, so why even bother bringing it up? But then she goes into, like…crazy detail. Suspicious, crazy detail. 

STAN

(Immediately sliding forward, leaning in closer to her in fascination while his fist holds his chin up and covering his mouth)

NICHOLE

(Getting visibly caught up in the romance by the end)

All of a sudden, she starts goin’ on and on about how she always makes banana pancakes and scrambled eggs in the morning before her dearest friend wakes up, ‘cause those are her favorite, and she always sleeps in too late, and what’s cooler than-

STAN

(Slowly growing more fidgety and visibly flustered as Nichole passionately and tenderly paints the picture)

NICHOLE

-watching your absolute bestie trail after the smell of their favorite breakfast into the kitchen, hair a mess, curls all over the place, and her eyes are all droopy n’ peaceful, and she’s giving you the cutest, tight-lipped smile you’ve ever seen as a neat little thank you? When it just makes you wanna…

(Waves hands around aimlessly until pausing, turning her head to look Stan in the eyes, and viciously squashing his now boiling red cheeks in between her hands)

Hmph…You know?

Stan desperately tries to save face. And fails. Miserably.

STAN

(Sounding squished due to the hands on his face)

May- uh…Maybe your brill- uh, lovely way with…wor-

TOLKIEN

(Cutting Stan off before nodding in Nichole’s direction, sounding absolutely enamored and brimming with wonder by the end of his slightly animated story)

Absolutely nothing. Not even that.

(Leaning over the table, arm and hands soon sliding all around, showing clear engagement with the conversation)

Me and Nicky woke Clyde up with crepes one time. He screamed “Holy shit, rich people pancakes!” so loud, the neighbors definitely heard it, shoveled them into his stupid puffy cheeks like a freakin’ chipmunk, and gave us “syrup kisses”–and yes, he did call them that–before accidentally hitting me with his backpack and making a mad dash for my car. All while never actually saying the words “Thank you”.

(Looking up to meet Stan’s eyes, trying to convince with his tone)

I…don’t think a nicer display of friendship exists, Stan. I don’t think this world is good enough to handle it.

NICHOLE

(Stopping herself before she gets caught up in reminiscing)

Oh, yeah! That was- Oh! No, no, no, wait, okay, wait. Okay, so the girlfriend tells you all that, right?

STAN

(Slowly, clearly dazed from the overload of information from both sides)

…Uh, y-yeah, right, I- I gotcha…

NICHOLE

(Gradually starting to emphasize her words more heavily)

And then she mentions how they both help with cleanup, ‘cause it's actually fun at their house. there. Plus, she wants to make a good impression on her mom, and thank her for having her over, yadda, yadda, yadda. You know the drill. And then they get started on homework, even though it's a Saturday. And, sure, your girlfriend’s a total freak who fucking loves school and stuff, but who the hell actually does homework on a Saturday, unless…

(Gestures to him, like he’s supposed to fill in the blank, and dramatically explains the rest when he stays quiet like nothing happened)

She’s with someone whose company makes Calculus and scrubbing syrup off dirty dishes worth it. And that’s how your character realizes what’s going on, ‘cause he’s totally been there and all that good stuff.

STAN

(Confused)

…He…He has?

NICHOLE

(Intensely, voice lowered)

But here’s the thing.

(Points to Stan and then herself)

You and I know that, ‘cause we know what the song’s about, ‘cause we’re co-writing it.

STAN

(Quietly confused)

We are?

TOLKIEN

(Casually typing up notes again and speaking with certainty)

Yup.

NICHOLE

(Ignoring him before gesturing to the audience watching this play)

But they know that, because I just gave them a buncha context clues to sift through. I didn’t have to turn around, break the fourth wall, and go:

(Shuffling her body over to face the audience)

“Hey, the grand twist in my friend’s song is that his girlfriend is falling for someone else, and he totally should be freaking out, ‘cause he knows exactly where this is headed:”

STAN

(Voice filling with terror)

I should?

NICHOLE

“The corner of nowhere and angstville!”

STAN

(Pauses for a beat before audibly squeaking)

NICHOLE

(Turning back to Stan and pointing her finger at the audience, speaking like she’s proud of herself)

They figured it out all on their own.

STAN

(Pitch shifting in mortification)

They did?

TOLKIEN

(Leaning in towards Stan and Nichole)

Also, follow-up question: Who is “they”? You're pointing to a brick wall, babe.

NICHOLE

(Dismissively)

Don’t worry about it.

TOLKIEN

I mean, I will anyway, but okay.

NICHOLE

(Joyfully and dramatically picks up the songbook, shuts it, and pushes it into Stan’s hands, placing her hand on the cover in triumphant confidence)

So, you don’t have to keep all those extra lines where you go,

(Recounting song lyrics in the style of dramatic poetry)

“Should I be taken’ notes? Will this be on her heart’s homeroom quiz?” and “Have I been down this sorry road before? Is it my time to send her on her way, without me?”. The crowd’ll get the point just fine!

STAN

(Awkwardly laughing to cover up his latent fear)

…I mean…bold of you to assume I play in front of crowds…or that I still want them to “get it” after…this…Or that anyone in this town will be “fine” about any of this…But, uh…

(Placing a hand on her shoulder while genuinely trying to sound thankful, but falling flat due to shock)

…Thanks?

NICHOLE

(Starts shying away, awkwardly swinging her backpack back over her shoulders and standing up)

I mean, I was just thinking about that, and I thought it could, um…help! Maybe. But, yeah, so I’d better head to class, so, uh, yeah good- uh, goodbye!

(Shortly waving before speeding away while staring down at the floor, mortified)

STAN

(Staring at her walk off, then slowly raising his hand to wave back, pale and dazed, before turning to look out at the audience)

Dude…Your girlfriend is insane…Or got the gift of prophecy from Apollo.

(Pauses for a beat)

Or some wisdom shit from Athena.

TOLKIEN

(Nonchalantly with a proud smile on his face, yet still showing pity/concern for Stan)

And yours is in the same boat as you, bud. So…good luck, and ah…

(Getting up, patting him on the shoulder, and walking off)

Save a writer’s credit for my girl on your big album debut, okay? I’m buying every CD!

END OF PLAY.

[majestativa]

San Juan de la Cruz was temperate, even miserly: his poetical words consist of three longish lyrics and a few songs and ballads. It was a delirium, whether boisterous or reserved, bloodthirsty or pious. The lucid delirium of Cervantes, Velázquez, Calderón. Quevedo’s labyrinth of conceits. Góngora’s jungle of verbal stalactites.

Octavio Paz, Selected Poems of Rubén Darío

[boyenthusiast]

okay master post of all the Guys in my life that i post about kinda often. both cause it can be confusing and also i like talking about these guys

vinyl guy- his real name is matthew and we met through a post i put on my college's snapchat story about how im selling my vinyl collection. he's from my hometown (went to my rival high school!) and he's buying two of my beatles vinyls on saturday morning and when i researched the history of these albums and my specific vinyls, i told him about it and he seemed excited :)

micro econ guy- he's also in my science and critical thinking class, but i didn't realize until later cause they're both huge classes. his real name is pierce and he's tall with the like middle part longish hair that's popular now. he has nails painted light blue and he sits next to me in micro econ but across the room in science and critical thinking. painted nails on a guy who's a business major is like. unheard of. and thats why i first noticed him. i do not know how to talk to him lmao.

ive referred to him as "brba j guy" cause there used to be two breaking bad guys but the other one is just kinda meh to me actually- the first breaking bad guy, k guy, is named kaden, and j guy is named john. he went to my high school and we had english class together senior year (thats when i first met him) and also last semester (we go to the same college). he plays keyboard in a band and has good tastes in music and fashion. he also has cool longish hair and always has v cool outfits.

sam- he's not really a Guy, he's my most recent ex. i'm over him but there are aspects of our relationship that still affect me and he's the reason behind like 11 of the poems i wrote in late november if that gives you any idea. a few days ago i sent him a "i dont think i want to be friends again or even talk with you because of these reasons" text but he has yet to read or respond to it (i know because snapchat has read receipts). i dont really have negative feelings toward him, but i just dont want him in my life anymore because personal and complicated reasons

ethan- again, not really a Guy, but they're my second-to-last ex and the partner i was with the longest (2 1/2 years). they broke up with me the last week of august and both the breakup and relationship obviously affected me a whole lot. while i have no negative feelings toward them, i havent talked to them since early october and we dont want to be in each other's lives.

matthew, pierce, and john are all maybe potential crushes?? idk i'd have to hang out with them one-on-one before i can tell for sure. however, idk how i'd get with any of them. matthew has a girlfriend, i dont know if pierce is gay (but he has painted nails 👀), and john is pan but i'm not sure if i like him just yet. like 95% of my journal (that i started in late december) has been about these guys. also i've referred to them as ___ guy in the past because i didn't know id post about them as much as i have also to protect their privacy, but tbh you cant tell much from a first name so

[peace-and-light-poetry]

No More Therapy

Sometime ago, her therapist left “Fee for service” is why

She’s been searching ever since But got nowhere

Some she was too old for A few she had to travel for (difficult) Others were online or over the phone (unusable)

And FAR TOO MANY Are dedicated to helping addicts

She knew what she needed Very cognizant, in fact

Travelling is very much a hassle Planning around transportation was enough Of a headache

And some of her needs she can’t have met Over the phone or via a video Her job was practically telehealth

From experience, she knew this (with a lot more bitterness in opinion)

But she’s been searching for some time Yet turning up nothing

She has no hope None at all, and, currently, She was filling with despair

Perhaps, the mental health field Truly isn’t worth it After all,

What good is that field If one can’t get the services they need?

With all considered, she may as well Give up her search for services.

[sadowlswriting]

All my days are blurring and fading.

Never mind last week,

What did I do yesterday?

What did I speak?

Do I remember myself?

Or have I faded too?

I have disappeared from the all people I love.

There's piles of empty wrappers,

And bottles,

And packets,

In my room;

On the table,

On the floor.

There's piles of laundry,

Unwashed,

Unfolded,

Creased,

and wrinkled.

My acknowledgement of keeping up appearances has gone away with the leaves in the wind.

I sweat out my worries, regrets and mistakes under the blankets at night.

A bed is supposed to be a comfort,

A place to sleep,

To rest,

To regain energy.

But......

What if it's the thing I struggle to get out of....

Because the rest is not enough,

Because the exhaustion is not physical,

The fatigue is not visible?

How do I rid the ache in my bones, my joints and muscles....

When it is not from the bones, joints and muscles themselves,

But from something deeper within?

I am told, that I am supposed to know these things,

That I am old enough to figure things out,

But I'm tired.

I'm bored.

I'm stuck.

I've stepped in glue and I thought I had more time before it dried, but now I deal with the consequences of my ignorance and.....

And...

I just want a hug.

Let the world disappear for a moment.

Feel the warmth, that's not from artifical fire,

or blankets,

or a hot cup of tea.

I want safety

And comfort,

I want to be seen

And heard.

And I want something else.....

That I haven't yet quite figured out.

-Owl.

[phrootsnacks]

Spring Semester Language Study Plan 🌸

so... you wanna study four languages while taking 22 credits and doing extracurriculars, hm?

just me? ... ok

tbqh im a lil nervous for this coming semester, because my schedule was already busy and then it suddenly got busier, so... 

The gist of it is I’m going to focus on Spanish (because I have to) ((because I’m taking two Spanish classes this semester)), but also consistently review my other languages (Toki Pona, Arabic, and ASL). I can spare 10 - 30 minutes each day going thru flashcards, reviewing notes, and for Toki Pona writing a little bit. Then, on the weekends, I’ll take more time to learn new content and to practice speaking, listening, reading, writing, signing, etc.

(as per, longish post so...)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- español

Ya tengo dos clases de español este semestre, y por eso voy a concentrarme en el español. Fuera de mis clases, quizás leyere este libro que recibí como un regalo de Navidad, Parallel Text Short Stories in Spanish...

El libro contiene cuentos de autores diferentes y una traducción en cada dos páginas. No sé si tendré el tiempo para leerlo, pero si lo leo, voy a cubrir el lado ingles con una hoja de papel. 

Aparte de eso, hablé sobre mi problema con recordar palabras nuevas en mi publicación anterior. Entonces cuando encuentro una palabra nueva (en este libro o cualquier contexto), voy a escribirla y crear tarjetas. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- toki pona

tenpo pini la, suno ale la, mi sitelen e toki pona lon ilo Snapchat (mi sona ala e ni: nasin pi toki pona e nimi “Snapchat” a a a). ken la mi sitelen e toki pona lon ilo Tanpa? mi lukin e toki pona lon ilo Tanpa mi la, mi pilin pona. sona mi la, jan ante li pilin sama. mi wile toki e toki pona mute. taso, tenpo awen la ilo Siko li pana e monsuta tawa mi a a a. tenpo kama la, mi lukin kepeken ona.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- العربية

For Arabic, I really just need to learn more vocabulary and how to form sentences. I’m still going thru Arabic Khatawaat’s Arabic Language for Beginners playlist, as well as MSU library’s Elementary Arabic I textbook. As I mentioned in a previous post, I also have quite a lot of physical Arabic resources as well...

I’ll be honest, the textbook A Textbook for Beginning Arabic Part One is kinda intimidating (what with it being so big and so red), so I’m supplementing with the book Arabic Verbs and Essentials of Grammar (which is much smaller lol). 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- American Sign Language

I’m still following Bill Vicars’ YouTube videos and taking notes as I go, and I might also make flashcards as I see fit. I’ve also started reading Introduction to American Deaf Culture by Thomas K Holcomb...

Despite it being a textbook, it’s not dry or boring or difficult to read at all. I really appreciate the inclusion of art, poems, and personal stories. I’ve already learned a lot about both Deaf culture and hearing culture.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

and that is all! let’s hope I make it thru the semester in one piece :,)

[illogarithmil]

Decided to hit autocomplete for every top key of my keyboard & accidentally made a semi-nonsense poem of averages I think so here you go!

QUERTYUIOP/To Get Platemail

Quite old to be honest citizens can I have a court functionaries for my little plate on my own if you speedwalk want me get it for you to get platemail to do it for this project . I'm not sure how to do stuff with it and I don't think I have a court functionaries for you can definitely do it without you being a bit of a great and caring place to be sure of the Reborn and I have a great time and place to stay in my teeth

What was not interested is the military feared of a great and old man with longish and a doomsday of his travels to his people in the game if he wants wealth and he is secretly to the fishing fleet of his travels and I think what I'm going by is the military feared and he is secretly to the fishing fleet of his travels and his trusty is the military feared and his trusty is the military feared of his travels to his people

Even numbers can I have a court functionaries for my little plate on my character not in gold 9th or the end times I think you've got a lot can you do for you can definitely do the same thing is the best country to do upon me get to see you in the future famous for my little plate of my mind Body and my character not even less than the lore is the same thing so you can usually get a lot can you do it for this project

Really I'm not sure what I will become intoxicated for the following week and I'm just trying the best country to do upon the start with weapon and a doomsday of a great and strong reaction of you with awe and a doomsday of your game to get platemail to get platemail and then emptiness and I can spend some money in my teeth to see if it is a good idea for me this week so I'm sure I will be able yet somewhat further

The Devil feeds me and you did not have a court functionaries for me this morning so we should have a court appointment with the infinite by tomorrow if that's okay with a pantheon appointment and then I will be well prepared for that wolf and the monotheistic to the fishing fleet of a great and old woman in a political control of the armourers of a great and old age of culture has been going to be a class struggle to be sure

You have is a bar for me this week so I'm sure you can definitely do that for us to get platemail and I can spend some money in my teeth if I kill you or you can definitely do that to the fishing fleet in the morning so we go there for a non-demoncentric and a doomsday to see if we can get a lot can be lucky bastard we can I have a court functionaries to get platemail to go to get cures to do upon me to get platemail to get platemail

Up to the Great powers with the infinite by contrast to a peddler and the monotheistic of a great and creative approach the other day of the year Imperial Calendar I think you've got to be sure that you will be well prepared for your magic and the monotheistic of your game to get platemail in your teeth is a bar for me this week so I'm sure we will have a good deal with them as well if you speedwalk frantically and then I will be well

It was not unusual to see it spelled but it may be a result for you can definitely do the same thing is it elves you need a good point it's dark hair falling long and the monotheistic is the same way as a magic guild in my teeth but it's a town that I think you've been wanting for the following week but it's a bit of a great and a doomsday to see it spelled Leonardo da Vinci and I was going on the other day with a pantheon

Of the Reborn in my teeth but it was not unusual to have it in the land ALIVE have a court functionaries to see if they like the vague ones trade on their own agenda or anything else they can also do with them and if they could have a look around the other day and let me get back Hurdles if I kill you then you will be well know how you are not upheld to me and you did not have a court functionaries for you and I was just saying

Please Stop in the morning to me and my family friends are all good and I will be well as the most ornate in my teeth are very sore so I'm sure I will be well soon as well hopefully it won't rain until the next years of the day so we will have a court functionaries for you and your family to be sure if you speedwalk want it in the end I think you've got to go to get cures and get it out to retrieve it from my phone to my account

[poetsince1989]

I know I haven't written a single original thing yet but I only just started this account yesterday and I'm working up my nerve on typing out the poem I have in mind. It's rather longish andnI have to be in the right frame of mind to do so.

When I originally wrote it it was so emotionally draining, it was pure therapy for me. It's a bi autobiographical but also metaphorical.

It's called "Haunted".

That's all for now.

[lavenderboyspoem]

Me: *writes a longish text about wanting to come out as non binary in a joking way, but technology hates me and decided to only keep half the text which removed the most important part of the text*

My friend: "Wow! That's an amazing poem!" *proceeds to rate my "poem"*

The text in question:

I've done a lot of thinking and realised that I can't keep pretending as if pretending to be the way I've pretended to be is going to destroy that pain inside of me.

I can't keep pretending to be someone that I absolutely am not and by pretending I've put myself in a whole lot more pain.

I hoped that by pretending to be the someone that everyone wants me to be would just solve it and I would stop crying each time I see my body.

(I realised that half the text was missing while typing this. :/)