definitive poetry

anonymous asked:

What is your biggest inspiration? Also what is your favorite movie? Random, I know.

my biggest inspirations for poetry are definitely @euo, @dictionaryghost, @veincold, and @downurs
I don’t really have inspiration for my art or music honestly
My friends are my inspiration for life
I don’t have a favorite movie but I really really like Room and The Shining

parahoemal-activity  asked:

I'm sorry you came in the wrong time for aesthetics!! I feel so bad. I can definitely write poetry or something for you to make it up!! (Btw this is sunnysidecapricorn)

I’m so sorry I have no clue what this is about, if you could refresh my memory

anonymous asked:

Hello there! (Is it okay if we use the term "dear" or "friend" when we refer to you?). Also, how does the man who used to write poetry view me? He's still occasionally suggestive but he's so hard to read. He's older than I am.Thank you! :)

Hi! of course you can. I’d love it very much, call me anything you would like! 

Tarot card that popped out: Knight of Pentacles (reversed). Lacks imagination and follow-through. Content to let things slide. That’s most-likely why he is occasionally suggestive. But don’t expect anything more until he finally can follow-through with things. That is based on the second card pulled: Two of Pentacles. He is trying to balance his life with his social life. That also seems to be the reason why he “used to” write poetry. Definitely very hard to read.

I hope this helps a bit. Sending you positive vibes! 

my favorite words

petrichor: noun, the smell of earth after rain

fanciful: adjective, something so imaginative that it’s unrealistic

eunoia (greek) εὔνοια: noun, the fine, light rain that falls from a clear sky at sunset; evening serenity

palinoia: noun, the obsessive repetition of an act until it is perfect or mastered

selcouth: adjective, unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvelous

Pistanthrophobia: noun, the fear of trusting someone

scintilla: noun, a tiny, brilliant flash or spark; a small thing; a barely-visible trace

fanaa (hindi) فناء: noun, destruction of oneself, typically in love

vorfreude (german): noun, the joyful, intense anticipation that comes from imagining the future; daydreaming

agowilt: noun, unnecessary fear

honne (japanese) 本音: noun, what a person truly believes; the behavior and opinions which are often kept hidden and only displayed with one’s closest confidants

alharaca (spanish): noun, an extraordinary or violent emotional reaction to a small issue

gezelligheid (dutch): noun, the coziness, warmth and comfort of being home, or being together with friends or loved ones sharing time in a pleasant and nice atmosphere

meraki (Greek): noun, the soul, creativity, or love put into something; the essence of yourself that is put into your work

balter: verb, to dance artlessly, without particular grace or skill but usually with enjoyment

querencia (spanish): noun, a place from which one’s strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self

whelve: verb, to bury something deep; to hide

Y ahora?

definir el poema
gusto por lo ajeno
de qué
hablan las horas y qué
escriben las bocas

definir el sol
rayos ultraviolentos del pasado
en un continuo de fiel reproducción
cromática combustión en el constante lleno del vacío

de qué habla
el otro de dónde viene?
las risas son la herencia de las conversaciones?
ahora alguien ríe, y en otro lugar, la risa es un recordatorio
viajar con vos por el mundo es el sueño neoliberal?
la estética existe?
de más de trece mil millones de ojos cuántos nos corresponden?
1,53⁽⁻¹⁰⁾% del total? y si parpadeo?
cuántas veces nos pasamos el peine de los piojos?
por qué importa menos que el amor?
te acordás de los mates y cafés con tu viejo? estás seguro?
el positivismo se permite recordar? se permite preguntar?
por qué no nos decimos la verdad?
si las nubes son la evaporación de lo no dicho y las tormentas son propias,
el sol nos cromatiza hacia el olvido?

definir la interacción
adivinar es para los que prefieren la duda
o no me expliques nada
dudo que nos volvamos a adivinar

definir el poema
lo ajeno nos gusta, el otro no tanto


define the poem
taste for what’s alien
of what
hours speak and what
mouths write

define the sun
ultraviolent rays of the past
in a continuum of faithful reproduction
the chromatic combustion in the constantly full vacuum

does the other talks about?
laughs are the heritage of conversations?
now someone is laughing, and elsewhere, laughter is a reminder
travelling around the world is the neoliberal dream?
are aesthetics real?
how many eyes of the more than thirteen billion that exist correspond us?
1,53⁽⁻¹⁰⁾% of the total? and if I blink?
how many times we had to comb out lice?
why does it matter less than love?
you remember the breakfasts with your old man? are you sure?
does positivism remember? is it allowed to ask?
why won’t we tell the truth?
if the clouds are the evaporation of the unsaid and storms are our own,
does the sun chromatises us into oblivion?

define the interaction
let’s explain ourselves
guessing is for those who prefer doubt
or just don’t explain nothing
I doubt we’ll ever guess each other again

define the poem
we like what’s alien to us, not so much the alien itself

My Definition of Love:

You think about them when you hear a song in the car and you think about them when you’re walking down the cereal aisle. You want them to be with you when you’re sitting in bed watching Netflix and when you’re sitting on your front porch in the evening. You wonder if they’re happy or if they’re safe more than you ask yourself that same question. You look for them when you see a car that even mildly resembles theirs and are disappointed when it’s not them. When you’re with them you only see them and no one else. It’s like you’re in a bubble. Their touch makes your skin burn in the best way and you can only think about kissing them. You laugh at their dumb jokes and it’s not even forced because they’re so dumb it’s cute and you laugh when they mess something up or stutter. You think it’s adorable when they blush and when they run their fingers through their hair. You still think they’re hot even though their body may not be the best or their skin isn’t perfect. Their eyes are your favorite part about them because you know that when you look there you two are alone in a room full of people; you’re the only two who know exactly how the other feels. Their hugs are fucking Neosporin for your sadness and you adore their phobias and quirks and think they’re stupid but can’t help but smile when they’re super lactose intolerant but eat a pint of ice cream anyway then get sick. You hate them just as much as you love them because they’re so under your skin that you can’t say no to them and they make you feel so much you don’t know what to do with yourself. They’re just all that you think about and you would rather die than go a day without them. They’re the only person you will talk to any second of any day and they are your go-to person. They’re literally the thing you love most in the world.