#puppet poetry

[hybriddhthepoet]

Marionette by HybridDH

Art by ghosty_entity

https://x.com/ghosty_entity?s=21

In the darkened room, a stage unfolds,

where velvet curtains shield tales untold.

There in the dim light’s soft, faint sway,

a marionette waits, bound to obey.

Threads stretch high, veiled and taut,

puppet and shadow caught in thought.

With porcelain skin and painted smile,

she waits, unmoving, docile, beguiled.

An unseen hand pulls; she shudders awake,

a dance begins, each step to partake

in muted hums, a silent sway,

as joints align in ghostly ballet.

Her glassy gaze is fixed and wide,

unblinking, drawn from side to side,

eyes unfeeling, blank, and cold,

secrets too deep, in silence told.

The stage, her world of fabric walls,

a prison fashioned for lifeless dolls;

each step marked by the strings’ command,

a measured move, a forced demand.

She spins, she twirls with delicate grace,

her movements bound to an endless place,

and though she glides with a quiet charm,

her dance is bound, and free of calm.

There’s a murmur low, a command unclear,

whispers cold as winter’s cheer,

echoes scripted in her ear,

words that she feels, yet never hears.

Buttons for eyes, stitched mouth set wide,

she’s hollow within, though painted with pride;

the smile sewn on, the laugh confined,

a mask that cracks yet holds the line.

Around her, dolls on taut-held threads,

pinned to their parts, lifeless and led.

In faded lace, they watch and wait,

bound to their roles, resigned to fate.

One doll stands cracked, with splintered seams,

a rosewood figure, worn of dreams—

she’s cast aside, her purpose done,

no longer danced, no longer spun.

For every twirl and every bow,

she’s merely part of another’s vow;

the stage grows larger, yet so small,

a muted echo, a silent call.

And as she bends in practiced arc,

she wonders if this role left a mark—

a phantom tale, a puppet’s jest,

a marionette swayed at fate’s behest.

The strings grow taut; she cannot stray,

locked in this strange, perpetual play,

her movements guided, whispers hushed,

in satin gloves, her spirit crushed.

But under the mask, beneath the paint,

a flicker stirs, though ever faint—

a silent plea, a wordless cry,

for freedom’s hand, to sever and untie.

At last, the dance draws to a close,

she’s set back down in static repose.

And as the hands drift out of sight,

a tear escapes, frail in the light.

A single drop, a trace of grace,

a glint of life on her painted face.

[grimlyink-but-creative]

“I feel butterflies..🦋💕”

Deadass I think Latter would be very happy if he knew how many people loved him😭💕AND I AM ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE!!

HOWDY!! MOVE OVER!!🫸🐛‼️I’M FLIRTING WITH YOUR BROTHER TODAY- /j /silly

[jarofalicesgrunge]

Rare & Unseen Photos of METALLICA shot backstage at Pine Knob Music Theatre just Outside of Detroid in CLARKSTON, MI on JULY 21, 1986.

📸BY RUSS MARINO

[troxlerfx]

ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴍʏ ᴛᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ

ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴜꜱ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ

ᴏꜰ ᴜꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ

ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɪᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ

ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ɪᴛ...

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

“Miles is, without a doubt, Wolverine. Wolverine is a style icon to him. I see similarities. Miles always follows his instinct. And he’s capable of fixing things that are broken, whether it’s material or emotional damage, in no time.” - Alex Turner

[punkrockscully]

Wet Hot American Bummer

and he’s looking at your mouth with those hazel heat-seekers round and shiny as a promise in your pocket. Singing to him about your dreams, pressure like flashbulbs behind your eyes and a heart going wild as an encore, he makes you animal-sly, viciously slutty choke-ring-etceteras and once he put his arm around your throat and your eyes rolled back in your head.

Now, you want to strip-search his canines. An elastic empress lives inside you— divine feminine memory-parts down to your delicate ankles—warning: I want to be taken apart; I always get what I want. Architecturally, he’s only slightly taller but you curl like a star around yourself guzzling ghazals you wrote for him until your mystica flays itself apart and you are finally born unto searchlights. He sees you, but now so does everyone else.

Little rituals, exhibition— two lit cigarettes between his fingers is a kiss, his mouth on the filter of both and you think you can still feel his lips there.

You were talking about your dreams, red-hot lovemaking in a magazine making him spit, delightfully rabid as you are, asterisks marking secrets with no fine print. Wet hot American bummer—this is going to end, you will no longer get what you want, and a quiet tidying will make everyone forget. But not you, not him, with his tiny inhalation at the sight of your cocked hip, eyes wavebreaking over your body. God-knows-whose-soul is in whose hands now.

[permetutotheworld]

hi my name is Persephone, but you can call me Seph/Sephy/Nyx , I use they/xe pronouns, I’m an asexual lesbian, I’m autistic+adhd,

and I’m a minor (please don’t be creepy I’ve already had two people message me being weird and sexual)

I write a lot of poetry and I’m writing a book at the moment based off of the idea of multiple universes existing at a time, I sing and I love performing, specifically musical theatre

I ALSO TAKE REQUESTS!! I write poetry mostly for them but microfics tooo, for good omens, the marauders, percy jackson, les mis and any TJ Klune books that ive read, just pop a prompt into my inbox and ill do my best to get jt to you as fast as i can <3

my fandoms are : Les Mis, good omens, pjo, marauders, hunger games, aru shah, marvel, doctor who

my favourite music: queen, Maisie peters, the last dinner party, the crane wives, Taylor Swift, Florence and the machine, rene Rapp, Chappell roan, David Bowie, blondie, boygenius, most musicals

favourite books: house in the cerulean sea, under the whispering door, in the lives of puppets (all by TJ Klune)

my tags:

Nyx yaps: my silly little commentary on anything that happens to me

nyx vents: my life low-key sucks quite a lot at time so I vent a bit but I make sure to trigger warning everything triggering

nyx writes: I write silly little poems and stories that I post sometimes

nyx’s moots 🫶🫶: for my lovely moots

Nyx loves their gf: thats right guys i love my gf so mich and i talk about her a lot

perpendicular universe: posts about my fantasy novel im working onnn

Please dni if you’re queerphobic or discriminate against minorities in general, if you support trump or other dickwads like him or if you’re just going to be mean

also I do struggle a lot with mental health so I probably will randomly disappear or vent but I’ll make sure to trigger warning everything

my writing blogg: @persephone-writes-silly-stuff below the cut: my rp blogs, my moots and my fics

My rp blogs:

@nico-sees-dead-people @prongsie-rambles @regulus-the-star @pandora-opens-the-box @sunshine-boy-official

@enjolsaurus-rex @sunshine-prongsie-boy @panda-reads-your-death @lily-petals-falling @stars-andpoems

if you like my blog you should check out my amazing mutuals whom I love and adore:

@xenocollector LES MIS RAAA

@sauntering-vaguelydownward literally so sweet ilysm/platonically

@marylily-my-beloved love you Fatimah omg

@aidens-ocean-galaxy very purple coded person and very cool also so genuinely lovely we live laugh love Juno in this household

@theoristswan5683 literally so nice omg they have the loveliest vibes 😭

@ashstillalive Amazing writer amazing person will happily beta read for you anytime

@mae-occasionally-reads so sweet so lovely so cool so glad we’re mutuals love you so much/platonic vibes only MY BEST FRIEND ILYYYSMMM/pl <3333

@definitionoffuckup AL very cool individual

@rafaelthesilly I KNOW YOU IN REAL LIFE POOKIE YOURE THE BEST LESBIAN BUDDIE MY AMAZING SPOUSE ILYSM (platonically)

@inezrable I have more octopus facts for you!!!!!!!

@garden-of-runar the coolest person alive still can’t believe you followed me back althought yoir spice tolerance js weird as shit/lh and paprika is not spicy

@ravenwordss literally so sweet love you/pl

@pyromaniacbibliophile my spouse bc we are married

@cossie-fauchelevant the one and only cosette to my enjolras <3

@delinda24601 SHES SO COOL MY IRL BUS BESTIE LOVE HER TO BITS I FOUNDED HER FAN CLUB SHES SO SUPER COOL GUYS 🩷🩷🩷🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

@im-on-crack-send-help RIYANAAA SO SUPER COOL ILYSM

@startswithahell - cant wait for those unhinged asks omgomg

@biggestqiblifan - I LOVE YOU SM/pl

@the-eclipse-is-in-me - one of my favouritest people on this hellsite

@circe-butbetter - JANA!!! So incredibly cool and iconic

[glasswaters]

i want to be a real boy, said the puppet to the fairy. i am too loud and too wooden. i cannot understand the softness of their skin.

when i lie, my nose grows. when i am lied to, nothing happens to them at all. they smile. their eyes shine, wet with salt-water. my wrists are bound with string, my ankles are threaded with wire.

when i open my mouth, out comes a scream, as a felled tree, bleeding sap. i've shattered the windows and bent the door.

i've broken my father's heart.

have i not given all i had within me to give? did i not shave myself hollow to offer a handful of wood chips and sawdust to anyone who would smile at me? my walls are thin, by now, and my voice is a haunting within my own head. when the sun is strong enough, it shines right through me.

as though i was made of glass, like the fine porcelain dolls in their fine silk dresses and their fine leather shoes. those chubby-red cheeks, polished to the noblest of shines.

smooth as aged pebbles, they do not hurt the palms that hold them unless dropped.

i have taken sandpaper to the high points of me. the rough, first, no matter how it hurt to hold it. no matter the mess. my father taught me well. i will not splinter if you touch me.

i will not lie. i will dance the dance, i will drink the drink, i will breathe only when i am told. i will sink this pining body into the sea. for my father, i will rot.

only make me soft. give me lungs and a beating, bleeding heart.

make me right, said the puppet to the fairy, make me whole.

silly little heartwood, said the fairy to the puppet, you are real. how else would you cry? there is nothing wrong with you.

[vanillacoke25]

"brokeback puppets" @coffeehater19's words after hearing me yap abt "the licking game". so poetic

our image, please credit if u wanna use it (and i say that proudly, we're proud of our creation ✊🏼)

[the-jonestown-holotape]

hey y’all, ty here. 27 she/her looking for new mutuals.

made a new blog since my old one is 13 years old. gonna try posting more of my own stuff while tumblr is still alive and kickin.

follow if any of these tags jump out at you cuz we might just get along <3

[novelties-and-notions]

Stoß an! To the New Year!

I wish all of you a delightful new year: Stoß an!

Let's all now be merry and full of good cheer: Stoß an!

The old year is past; raise a glass of fine wine: Stoß an!

To good health and joy, and a future that’s fine: Stoß an!

To young and to old let us drink the same toast: Stoß an!

Good luck to all those who may need it the most: Stoß an!

With a smile let’s clink glasses with those we hold dear: Stoß an!

In peace and with hope we now greet the new year: Stoß an!

Happy New Year!

[By A (for Alphonse) Poeticus Abysmus, the lousiest poet on the midway.It baffles science!]

[dagrapesody]

I think Marx and Taranza are both theater kids

Except Marx is the typa guy to love beetlejuice, while Taranza likes phantom of the opera or something like that

Everytime Marx tries to recommend a musical or play, Taranza would be concerned. Because why wouldn’t you be

Marx ends up somehow convincing Taranza to watch something together

But then it turns out that Marx does have taste so-

Taranza will probably tell Marx to shut up but that‘s besides the point.

[krasytoonz]

Look it’s de husbandz

[troxlerfx]

ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀ, ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇᴇ?

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴɢ

ɪɴꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴇ

ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʀᴇᴍʙʟᴇꜱ ᴘᴜʟꜱᴇꜱ ʙᴇᴀᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴀʟᴘɪᴛᴀᴛᴇꜱ

ᴛʜᴇ TROUBLE ɪꜱ

ɪ'ᴍ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴏᴀᴍ!

ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ

ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ ᴀᴛ ʜᴏᴍᴇ

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ʟᴏᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ʟɪɢʜᴛꜱ

ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍᴘᴛʏ ᴘʟᴀᴛᴇꜱ

[anitaazad]

Splatsune Inku 🦑

[punkrockscully]

"Kiss Me Underneath the Moon's Side Boob"

"I play the [wolf howling sound]"

You will say it’s not like that but, oh, boy, how many door-frames have you watched him from? You can dodge questions like lazy punches all you want but the nebulous aura of you-and-him has gotten so sharp it cuts—purple-flowered fields giving way to hot hot heat in grown-up bodies, Beatles-like baby-faces turned angular, eyes gone darkish and lusty and searingly hooked.

When he chases you, those thoughts— whispering bedsprings, a shimmying, and then rejoice in trembling and gravitational alignment, two worshipful dogs rolling around in a good smell. Still—and you cannot stress this enough— it’s not like that.

2. "I play the midnight moon"

And the ease in which you say it doesn’t surprise you but maybe it should—nothing surprises you but everything surprises you, with him, his flailing limbs, water-glow softness even as he’s karate chopping and doing ninja kicks. Slumped on his knees blitzed out of his mind, then crawling toward you in an animal prowl, your face wide-open and obvious— freak him out on purpose so he won’t notice the achingly soft light in your eyes.

3. "Midnight has got the hots for me"

You weave through everything he does—Mr. Midnight with the slutty curve of your waist on display. Curl yourself around him like a perfect spiral, conjoined, entangled, he will never be rid of you— eyes persistently dark, bearing down from across a stage or inches away huddled in his body. Puppy-lack of space between you, not borrowed but owned, touches that belong to you— he’s a giver, and you can be awfully persuasive but it’s not like he needs to be convinced to press his face conspicuously close to yours.

4. "Looking up at the moon wonderin' ... who's he kissin'"

You spent so long kissing anything to get the itch for him out of your mouth, tongue-first introductions but now you keep your lips to yourself unless they’re centimeters away from his. Your mouths were made for each other, molded from the same primordial clay to fit together quick and perfect— again, again, again—he always chickens out when you push too far, but how can you not push when he’s backed up against you swinging his little tambourine?

The moon winks her eye down on you leading each other away from a crowd, jubilant in your wanderings, drawn-out breaths in each other’s necks—he’s indefinable but you always have the words: life’s little lovescapes tripping from too-fast mouths, he shines under cold moonlight where you could touch him and have your fingertips come away glistening with unseeable stars.

5. "Pull me in close on a crisp eve, baby"

Moon-monster, deliberate gaze, glint of a shine in his eyes that took absolutely forever but not when you look directly at the source— headlong dive into a blissful hazy muttering hips-down on the greenroom couch while he plays a song with your own whining. You always get what you want even when you push him away, laughing at the lengths you go to kiss him.

another one :)

for @uhbasicallyjustmilex who prompted me with that lollapalooza interview (I think it was lolla idk) anyway kat was braver than the US marines for those questions, I honestly hope she's living her best life