Quote 17 Aug 23,255 notes

I wake up each
morning wanting
more of you.

First, it was your
lips, then it was
your hands, now

it is your heart.
Now, it is always
your heart.

— wanting, Emma Bleker (via stolenwine)
Photo 15 Aug I went to the Boston Museum today and stood in quiet rooms filled with ancient stones… with ancient words written on them. We have been reaching out into the universe for a long time now. Stretching beyond our temporary selves into some future we cannot see or imagine. I think we hope someone will be there to find us. I hope we are right.

I went to the Boston Museum today and stood in quiet rooms filled with ancient stones… with ancient words written on them. We have been reaching out into the universe for a long time now. Stretching beyond our temporary selves into some future we cannot see or imagine. I think we hope someone will be there to find us. I hope we are right.

Quote 13 Aug 4,251 notes
It’s a brave thing being loved by me, but then it’s a brave thing being loved at all. Where do we find the nerve? We say ‘all right, I like you, so I put my happiness in your hands.’ We say ‘your smile tickles me so let’s spend forever going to bed mad at one another.’
— Donna-Marie Riley, Brave Thing (via five—a—day)
Text 13 Aug 1 note the writing process

Just out of curiosity, would any of the poets that I follow (and who also follow me, otherwise you won’t see this post) be willing to post their work showing some of their edits? Basically is anyone willing to show a couple of the evolutionary steps of your work?

Text 13 Aug 3 notes For Avalon

easytobecomplicated:

Oh hair of brown and eyes of blue
My daughter I’ll make time for you
Through angry seas or oceans fair
On far off shores I’ll find you there. 

Oh hair of brown and eyes of blue
My daughter I’ll make time for you
Through storm-wrought skies or carded cloud
I’ll sail the fog and misted shroud 

Oh hair of brown and eyes of blue
My daughter I’ll make time for you
In moments froze, we’ll have tea for hours
The dandelions for our flowers 

Oh hair of brown and eyes of blue
I looked away and you winged flew
Intangible moments I could not hold
Ever fading toward sunset gold 

I dreamt you young, I wake and you’re gone
My empty arms still holding on
So fast to far off shores you flew
Oh hair of brown and eyes of blue…If only youth could stay with you.

~ Jay Michael

I both love and hate the process of reworking my own stuff. I think this is better than before but only my future self will know if I’m done. I should have waited longer before posting. Arghh.

Quote 4 Aug 21 notes
i am not ready to let you go
but my back is sore
and i cannot carry you with me any longer
— notes scrawled onto restaurant napkins, O.H (via noteboo-k)
Photo 2 Aug 90,238 notes I don’t think I’ve been overt about this in my blog, but I just had to repost this because… While all girls are the most fantastic and beautiful creatures that God ever made, chubby girls take my breath away.

I don’t think I’ve been overt about this in my blog, but I just had to repost this because… While all girls are the most fantastic and beautiful creatures that God ever made, chubby girls take my breath away.

(Source: fattyonfire)

Text 2 Aug 2 notes Tempus Est Ignis

Use well the time that you’ve been given

Too soon are soul and body riven

Leave no moment left unstriven

In service to God and man be thriven

~Jay Michael

Text 28 Feb 6 notes 13-09

wagishwari:

Blessed with warm hands, but a fickle touch
Dressed up those wounds until it hurt too much
These spooks and scabs have started to seep
Into us
And the crooks and cracks have started to creep
Into me

Tried by these warm hands with their fickle touch
Tied then torn,
Until we became too much for us

via Outase.
Quote 28 Feb 5 notes
When my hands are applied to another task
Then the words I wish to write come flooding in at last
Flowing in my mind like water
When I’m busy with my daughter
If a pen is out of reach
My mind creates the best retreat
But hardly do I fully recall
The exact way to place them all
Text 28 Feb 2 notes Ode To London

You are so beautiful,
It crushes me how beautiful you are.

Your face,
Your face alone could quiet a raging battle,
As men still their swords while you walk by.

But you know,
You know,
You’ve heard it a million times.

And while it shouldn’t make any difference, because it’s true,
Somehow it does,
And the compliment dims just a little.

Jay Michael

Text 23 Feb 3 notes To My Wife on Valentines Day

I am alone
And often in the silence, thoughts of you break over me like tidewaters
Who among men can resist moons and oceans and the wheeling forces of gravity
And so finally I relent and remember you fully
Without distraction

In my mind I see only that which favors you most
I hear only that which draws me to you
And I embrace your indomitable lightness
Which so perfectly balances all my melancholy

Tomorrow is the day set aside for lovers and while I am
At this moment
Without a lover
I am not without love
For your love sits still in me
And comes out when I am alone
And when the world is quiet

~ Jay Michael

Quote 23 Feb 50 notes
I wish I had your handprints in wet cement, our conversations graffitied on warehouse walls – something that declares “we were here”
I am almost certain I imagined all this
‘cause the teeth marks you left on my inner thigh faded right after I came
and you went the way they always do, quickly
so I called you up again
your jeans on the floor, our sleeping bodies facing blank bedroom walls
concrete evidence of my emotions –
I’ll let you vandalise all my emptiness just for one more night when I’m not alone.
Quote 23 Feb 39 notes
She spoke in delicate
lines of meticulous prose,
each word dripping with
delicious articulation,
he swooned over those
syllables escaping her parted lips. And he offered her compliments
pouring from his mouth like honey,
while they swayed on barstools
sipping that Tennessee poison.
It was adoration at it’s finest. There was something different about
that night, perhaps it was the moon,
yeah, people always mention
the moon when things change. And when she glanced over at him,
gently resting her lips on
the straw dancing between waves of whiskey and ice cubes.
She met his eyes and their lives
changed forever. He loved her at that moment
there was something about the way
the light danced upon her
painted frame in the dark corner
of that damp bar.
It was something about those lips
and the words crashing out of them,
that drove him to lustful insanity. They hardly spoke that night, just smiled, drank, and watched
as the dreamers, the drifters, the
lovers and loners walked past the bar.
It wasn’t a scene out of a movie,
or a page torn from a romantic novel,
it was just a simple night where two
people silently decided that there was nothing in the world that could tear them
from that exact barstool at that moment.
Video 10 Nov 223,008 notes

Ok, my dad built a two story tree house for my brother and I so of course I have to re-blog this.

(Source: ladyinterior)


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