beneath-a-lonely-place:

Tumblr,

I have an idea – though it’s just an idea, at least for the moment, I was curious if any of my followers would be interested in a book exchange/pen pal “program” with me? Though the idea is a bit rough on the edges, basically, we would send each other a…

beneath-a-lonely-place:

Tumblr,

I have an idea – though it’s just an idea, at least for the moment, I was curious if any of my followers would be interested in a book exchange/pen pal “program” with me? Though the idea is a bit rough on the edges, basically, we would send each other a book that we both really love along with a letter and have that be the foundation to our communication – it can be just once or a commitment towards staying in touch.

Being a book lover and a serious reader, I figure this would be a nice opportunity to not only get to know some of you on a more intimate level but an opportunity for us to read something new and add a book to the library. As I said, this idea is a bit rough at the moment but if any of you are curious, please send me a message and we can go from there.   

liv-ullmanns:

Björk - Hyperballad

(via cathedralofsound)

You give me a time and a place, I give you a five minute window. Anything happens in that five minutes and I’m yours. No matter what. Anything happens a minute either side of that and you’re on your own. Do you understand?

(Source: guylawrence)

(Source: takeustoglory)

slowartday:

Paintings of double exposed images by Pakayla Rae Biehn

from Courts, by Ward Roberts

(Source: inaclearing)

She saw in the rainbow the earth’s new architecture, the old, brittle corruption of houses and factories swept away, the world built up in a living fabric of Truth, fitting to the over-arching heaven.
written by

D. H. Lawrence, The Rainbow


Friday Final Lines | Every Friday, we offer the closing lines of a Penguin Classic to finish up the workweek. 

(via classicpenguin)

Poets are damned but they are not blind, they see with the eyes of the angels.
written by

William Carlos Williams

Introduction to Howl

(via acceptthetightrope)

Salome dances her dance of the seven veils,
The men all eye her like wolves on the hunt, this beautiful girl
finally undressing for them. Finally they can see her
exactly as they want to.
The first veil drops.

In 2007, Kim Kardashian’s ex-boyfriend
released their sex tape against her will.
Kim Kardashian, rather than hide in shame
Used the publicity to promote her own career.

Salome moves like a dream half-remembered.
Salome dances like a siren song. All the men ache
to see the hot sugar of her hip bones.
The second veil drops.

In 2014, Kim Kardashian walks down the aisle
As the whole world watches. If only all of us
were so successful in our revenge.
If only all of us stood in our Louboutin heels
on the backs of the men who betray us,
surveying the world we created for ourselves.

The third veil drops.

Kim Kardashian knows exactly what you think of her.
She presses the cloth tighter against her skin
Her smile is a promise she never intends to keep

We can almost see all of her.
Salome shows us her body
but never her eyes.
The fourth veil is dropping.

The four things most recently tweeted at Kim Kardashian were
@KimKardashian Suck My Dick
@Kim Kardashian Can I Meet Kanye?
@KimKardashian Please Fuck Me
@KimKardashian I Love You. I Love You.

Women are told to keep their legs shut.
Women are told to keep their mouths shut.
Some women are kept silent for so long,
They become experts in the silent theft of power.
The fifth veil has dropped.

Kim Kardashian made $12 million dollars this year
Yesterday, uncountable men in their miserable jobs,
told their miserable friends that Kim was a “dumb whore”
Kim Kardashian will never learn their names.

The sixth veil has dropped.
The seventh veil has dropped.

And Salome sat beside King Herod. And he swore unto her
“Whatsoever thou shalt ask of me, I will give to thee
unto the half of my kingdom”
And she smiled, and said
“Bring me the head of John The Baptist.
Punish the man who hurt me”


written by Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)

you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him traveling away from you in his dreams

you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave

you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful

something not everyone knows how to love.


written by Warsan Shire, For Women Who Are Difficult to Love (via the-sinking-spell)
390 notes
thedailydoodles:

"Nothing in Common"(Part 11 in the ongoing saga of Wayne and Isabella, the Ghosts with Relationship Problems)
Mr. and Mrs. Wayne and Isabella The Ghost, miserably married for 3 years now (and 4 years before the divorce), share another conversation-less long car ride to her horrible mother’s house for the weekend.
As they don’t share the same taste in music, they’ll each whine if they have to listen to what the other likes to listen to, so instead they listen to nothing at all so that at least nobody gets what they want.  
Every conversation has been had, every last scrap of tepid small talk has been uttered, every complaint about work and friends shared, and every little habit and quirk of their respective personalities manages to annoy the other simply by existing.  
After the initial attraction and shared interest in not being alone had worn off, it is painfully clear that Wayne and Isabella have nothing in common.
Isabella remembers when Wayne would try to make her laugh; the long drives through the countryside would go so quickly, how happy and free she felt… but she can’t even fathom how that feeling existed before.  It seems so foreign, like it happened in a past life.
Now all they have in common is the endless, tense silence.   
Wanna appear in your very own Daily Doodle?  CLICK HERE!FAQ  TWITTER  FACEBOOK  SOCIETY6

thedailydoodles:

"Nothing in Common"
(Part 11 in the ongoing saga of Wayne and Isabella, the Ghosts with Relationship Problems)

Mr. and Mrs. Wayne and Isabella The Ghost, miserably married for 3 years now (and 4 years before the divorce), share another conversation-less long car ride to her horrible mother’s house for the weekend.

As they don’t share the same taste in music, they’ll each whine if they have to listen to what the other likes to listen to, so instead they listen to nothing at all so that at least nobody gets what they want.  

Every conversation has been had, every last scrap of tepid small talk has been uttered, every complaint about work and friends shared, and every little habit and quirk of their respective personalities manages to annoy the other simply by existing.  

After the initial attraction and shared interest in not being alone had worn off, it is painfully clear that Wayne and Isabella have nothing in common.

Isabella remembers when Wayne would try to make her laugh; the long drives through the countryside would go so quickly, how happy and free she felt… but she can’t even fathom how that feeling existed before.  It seems so foreign, like it happened in a past life.

Now all they have in common is the endless, tense silence.   

Wanna appear in your very own Daily Doodle?  CLICK HERE!
FAQ  TWITTER  FACEBOOK
  SOCIETY6

45 notes
uutpoetry:

Improve Each Shining Hour
Howie Good
The history that began with a signed urinal is extinguished with rain disasters in India. Somewhere I have a souvenir postcard from the gift shop at Kafka’s birthplace. Nostalgia just isn’t what it used to be. Earthquakes keep happening, a series of lewd gestures strung together by the blind man, splinters of ice today, char and ash tomorrow, with a flowered couch, meanwhile, serving conditionally as a haven, and everybody yelling Squish over!
art by franz falckenhaus

uutpoetry:

Improve Each Shining Hour

Howie Good

The history that began
with a signed urinal
is extinguished
with rain disasters in India.
Somewhere I have
a souvenir postcard
from the gift shop
at Kafka’s birthplace.
Nostalgia just isn’t
what it used to be.
Earthquakes keep happening,
a series of lewd gestures
strung together
by the blind man,
splinters of ice today,
char and ash tomorrow,
with a flowered couch,
meanwhile, serving
conditionally as a haven,
and everybody
yelling Squish over!

art by franz falckenhaus

38 notes
miniaturecouples:

by Katherine Osborne & Bob Schofield