Latest Posts by rococobean - Page 2
The Kitten, by Mary Oliver
Mushrooms on a short hike in North Carolina
Finding my feet
In a land where shadows softly creep,
Where unknown paths and secrets sleep,
I found myself, a stranger's face,
In this new, uncharted place.
The streets were whispers, tales untold,
With every step, my heart grew bold.
Though fear did knock, I stood my ground,
In this strange place, my feet were found.
The skies were foreign, stars anew,
Yet in their light, my courage grew.
With every dawn, a chance to see,
The beauty in this mystery.
Through winding roads and hidden lanes,
I danced in sun and welcomed rains.
For in this place, so wild and free,
I found the strength to just be me.
The city breathed, a living art,
Its pulse became my beating heart.
Mountains rose like ancient kings,
Whispering tales of timeless things.
Rivers flowed like veins of gold,
Through valleys deep and stories old.
The wind, a voice both soft and strong,
Sang to me a foreign song.
In markets bright with colours rare,
I found new dreams within the air.
Each face, a book with pages turned,
In every gaze, a lesson learned.
The night, a velvet cloak of stars,
Guided me through near and far.
In this place, both strange and grand,
I found my feet, I made my stand.
Surviving storms with steadfast grace,
I carved my path, I found my place.
In every challenge, strength did grow,
In every trial, a chance to show.
Living fully, heart and soul,
Embracing life, becoming whole.
With every breath, a song to sing,
In every moment, blossoming.
Thriving in this newfound land,
With open heart and outstretched hand.
In this place, both wild and free,
I found my home, I found me.
Empathy
I have laid my hand over the pool of pain
Fingers spread, slow like I'll frighten it
Barely broken the thin skin at the top
Of the water you nearly drowned in
The cold sucked the breath from my chest
And I cried out and stumbled back
Clutching my burning icy hand
I stare at you. How did you survive this?
Does it ever go away? The furious ache?
I'm still gasping for breath.
You shrug. It hasn't so far but you should rest.
I should rest? What about you?
I'm trying. I'm so tired.
Tears gather in your eyes like crescent moons
There isn't enough time in the world.
I lay my new scarred hand on your chest.
What Makes a Man
What makes a man
Is being gentle
When we’re irate
It’s being humble
When we are great
It’s finding love
Amongst the hate
What makes a man
Is supporting one another
Building each other up
Picking up the pieces
When everything goes toes up
It’s shaking hands
To heal rifts
It’s being generous
With our gifts
What makes a man
Is helping friends
And making amends
It’s recognizing mistakes
And fixing them with haste
Boys may fight
But men do what’s right
That’s what makes a man
There is no I.
am i the central nervous system? the brain, the skin, the eye? the microbiome in my gut, or stardust in the sky?
the soul (what soul?), the heart, the breath, the hormones in my blood? the shadows splashed on Plato's wall, the people that I love?
the clothes on my back, the name on ID, the carbon in my bones? the air i breathe unconsciously, the place that i call home?
or am i just the nowhere man, the woman so alone? i am the dreamer of the dream, the - I - in i don't know
alexander heir
hey man I found a piece of your soul stuck in the text messages of old friends you don’t speak to anymore. do you want it back
Alessandro Biffignandi
@judas-redeemed / Wilhelm Schulz, “All Soul’s Day” / Neil Hilborn, “Our Numbered Days” /@petfurniture / Hugo Simberg , “The Garden of Death” / Ramona Ausubel
I used to dream of death
or blazing, blistering pain.
A mark of martyrdom above my
twisted, tortured brain.
But now I sigh and dream of life
and care for all my wounds
No need to be a martyr
I don't need no cocoon
Me: You know how when you were a kid and you’d wish that you’d get sick or injured in a way that would justify why you didn’t live up to your potential?
Everybody, apparently: No?
This Spanish lesson that reads like a half finished poem
the way ivan aivazovsky looks at the sea…i think…i think that’s what love looks like.
We have always been here
Who's your top comfort character right now?
I've been rewatching the original star wars trilogy, so right now, Luke Skywalker ❤️😍🥰
A special shoutout to LGBTQ+ Mormons and exmos this pride; to you in the closet, sitting awkwardly in sacrament meeting, finding excuses to duck out of homophobic Sunday school lessons, you, wearing a rainbow pin to girl's camp, you out and proud and still attending, enduring side eye from sisters and comments to "maybe tone it down" from your bishop. You, afraid to bring your partner home, you who's only Mormon on Sundays but can't bear to let your parents down (earthly and heavenly). To you who took the bravest step and left the church and your community, and feel like you'll never find a new one. To you who hears "no way you were a mormon!" but are still unravelling the trauma of purity culture.
I see you.
I love you.
It gets better.
flush // april 13 2023
Joyous tears, the river of progress, the trail ever on to freedom, the themes, the motifs, you get it.
The mile-long rainbow flag being carried down First Avenue in New York City.
god is the space where God used to be
Who am I meant to be angry at now?
dostoyevsky // nicola yoon // ada limón // john steinbeck // avainblue // sylvia plath
"One might take the tip of the pencil and magnify it. One reaches the point where a stunning realization strikes home: The pencil tip is not solid; it is composed of atoms which whirl and revolve like a trillion demon planets. What seems solid to us is actually only a loose net held together by gravity. Viewed at their actual size, the distances between these atoms might become league, gulfs, aeons. The atoms themselves are composed of nuclei and revolving protons and electrons. One may step down further to subatomic particles. And then to what? Tachyons? Nothing? Of course not. Everything in the universe denies nothing; to suggest an ending is the one absurdity."
- Stephen King, The Gunslinger
𝘈𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. 💐💙✨
- Vincent Van Gogh
What's a character you were super into when you were like 12?
Oh my god, such a good question. 12 year old my was a fucking VORACIOUS reader, but the first thing that comes to mind is Artemis Fowl. Fam, I thought he was the absolute shit
I hope Nael knows their poem made me cry
When Everything Everywhere All at Once said “The only thing I do know is that we have to be kind. Please, be kind, especially when we don’t know what’s going on"
When the Good Place said “Why choose to be good every day when there is no guaranteed reward now or in the afterlife… I argue that we choose to be good because of our bonds with other people and our innate desire to treat them with dignity. Simply put, we are not in this alone.”
When Jean-Paul Sartre said ”‘Hell is other people’ is only one side of the coin. The other side, which no one seems to mention, is also ‘Heaven is each other’. Hell is separateness, uncommunicability, self-centeredness, lust for power, for riches, for fame. Heaven on the other hand is very simple, and very hard: caring about your fellow beings.“
Where I'm From, George Ella Lyon