rufiozuko:

Things We Say by Dante Basco (by Dante Basco)

Oh god people are liking my Tav poem!

I have more xD …

I might post.

I revert to Tavros so easily!

lOWBLOODS ARE RED,
mY FIRES ARE MAROON,
tHE HORNS ON YOUR HEAD„ 
sAY GET IN MY RECUPERACOON, 

featherstonehaugh:

cisbender:

when an artist wants to show you their art

or a writer wants you to read what they’ve written

it’s quite often an expression of trust

because a poem or a story or a painting are often things that come from the heart

little pieces of the artists themselves

and if they’re willing to share it with you

you should appreciate it

Take note. Because we’re typically NOT fishing for compliments on our work, contrary to popular belief.

(Source: fadical)

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. 

Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.” 

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

Pablo Neruda.

holycrapacupcake:

A poem for my mad(d) friend.
Written instead of Anthropology notes.
Enjoy.

Wrote this…a day or so ago. but just typed it.

I KNOW it needs work.

-minor adjustment

Of Pride & Paragons

lovekyla:

It is not a question of pride or paragons,
But more a matter of preference.

I’ve walked and seen through Haze’s walls,
Twice over, if you’d expect it.
And sauntered down its toll-filled halls,
And window watched; eyes hectic.

Point A was strong, its hearth was bright.
Point B was soft, Keeper’s safe at night.
But influence was the toxin of choice,
So I drank until I lost my all voice.

It spilled and trickled down the vine,
Into the cup of Ms. Serpentine.
She licked the rim, then licked her lips,
Then gazed across, hands on her hips.

Within that moment the equinox bent,
But one was used to it, the other spent.
It spilled again, and trickled some more,
Then complications knocked on the door.

Sitting back, humbled and quiet,
Eyes like daggers, heart is ignited.
Silent and waiting,
The days they were dating?
                      Well, they never got over her.

But in the end it is not a question of pride or paragons,
Oh no -
It is more a matter of preference.


What Do You Say - Chris Buck

Read By Chris Buck


Ugh. I need to practice reading my work. I got nervous.


Click for full image-

New poem.
Written off of this photo.

Thoughts?


Much like my Degenerate Generation

I really hope you like it.

It’s in need of work but…

Theres a lot in it.

help with it?