girl reading poetry

opes… opus…. I’ve been reading a lot of poetry lately to find some that can help people with pronunciation and recently I’ve found Claude McKay and he has a very conventional style that’s really comfortable to read. A real natural rhythm and some real nice diction. Deep, in that it compels thought, but not some obfuscatory self-satisfied convoluted bullshit, it’s easy to understand and more than that it’s easy to expand on. He was born in late 1800s and died mid 1900s so I’ve been thinking about how lasting poetry has the potential to be, it’s wild. I wonder what claude mckay would think about some asian girl reading his poetry more than 50 years later like ‘shit man, that’s heavy yo’

I figured we needed one of these. It’s probably already been done.

Explanations, which you can disagree with in tags/replies. I’d love to hear other’s opinions, he said as if anyone cared.

Lawful Good: Pinky. There isn’t a single mean bone in his body. He’ll always obey the law of the land, whether that land be America’s, or Brain’s. He strives to be a genuine good noodle, and when he messes up, its unintentional.

Neutral Good: Wakko. Out of the three Warners, he’s the most down-to-earth. His conflicts are often mundane; potty emergencies, finding something to eat, chasing down a wishing star, etc. He doesn’t hold back when it comes to harmless pranks and gags, but he’s not a provocateur. The most he does all on his lonesome is witty dialogue. 

Chaotic Good: Dot. She’s an energetic, boundless child who does everything in her power to bug and bother the Warners’ daily Special Friend. But she’s the innocent, young, cute mascot who has not yet been corrupted by the cruel world of modern television. She’s a sweet young girl who enjoys reading poetry and singing cutesy songs, but she’ll definitely bury you six feet under if you call her Dottie.

Lawful Neutral: Hello Nurse. She’s won a Pulitzer, a Tony, and she dedicates her time to helping others. Her resume is golden; you couldn’t find any dirt on her if you hired Hercule Yakko.

True Neutral: Skippy. He’s a body of water constantly influenced by the pull of the tide. He’ll take whatever advice Slappy gives him, or anyone. When his guidance counselor says to take a beating from a bully, he does it. But when Slappy recommends breaking all of the rules to make real progress, he’s not bound by his previous morality.

Chaotic Neutral: Yakko. That face is the face of no mercy. He cracks dirty jokes, he senselessly taunts whoever he chooses, and since he’s the oldest, Wakko and Dot will follow like sheep. It’s true that most of their victims deserve the wrath of the Warners, but when the embodied concept of Death is just doing his job, or when three cubicle workers are just carpooling to work, Yakko will be the instigator of destruction and malice.

Lawful Evil: Mr. Plotz. He’ll follow all of the rules and guidelines whenever someone signs a contract with him, but he’ll use whatever slack he gets to make a pretty penny. He’ll sell the three immortal heathens in the water tower to other cartooning companies just for the money. He’ll tax an orphan out of his only haypenny. He’ll eat a poultry salad in front of Chicken Boo.

Neutral Evil: The Brain. His morality is set in stone; he doesn’t want to hurt anybody. His plan is to dominate the world, only to unite it under his reign. But he’ll break laws, trespass boundaries, and disobey orders to get what he’s set after. But when a tough decision crosses his path, like choosing between his best friend or conquest of the planet, his heart of gold leads him down the right fork in the road.

Chaotic Evil: Slappy

To the girl that holds my heart,
I hope you know that the world envies you. And rightfully so. Because it has had 14 billion years of existence to perfect itself in any way possible, compared to just your 17. Yet the world does not leave me in awe the way that you do. Because although the sky is vast and bright, it does not compare to your mind and the thoughts and ideas inside. And although the world is full of the most beautiful of colors, none of them can quite match your eyes. And despite all the soothing harmonies that are to be heard, if the only thing I heard for the rest of my life was your voice, I wouldn’t be sad at all. So you see, this is why the world envies you. Because you are my world. And the world we live in will never compare to you.
—  J. Carter

Landscape with Young Girl (1896). A. C. W. Duncan (British, active 1883-1896). Oil on canvas. Rozelle House Galleries.

The girl perhaps is reading Duncan’s poetry. Duncan, a lesser-known British artist was also a poet. A collection of his poems is found in An Artist’s Poems, A.C.W. Duncan. Edinburgh: William Hodge & Co., 1933.

i keep telling myself that i must write it down, because it’ll fly away, it’ll walk away and i can’t live with that on my chest. i keep telling myself that as long as you’re around, i’ll be able to breathe. my lungs are messed up from bad habits, my heart is still puking on the carpet, a shot too many, but if i asked about yours and how many times the window was left open and how you managed to seal it shut before the hurricanes came by, i wonder if you know about your wonders, i wander into your wandering eyes and i’ve seen the poetry being written, a lady in white chained to her pen, a lady with a hole in her chest trying to sew her heart back together, stitch by stitch your intricacies are woven with precision, but some days you still crack. but some days you can’t find peace. but some days you’re in pieces. i know i’m sweet for your lungs, i know i won’t always be sad, but for you to see past my flaws and accept my tiny smile as nothing more and nothing less than beautiful, i still question the way our souls still search for locked doors and how many times we dropped the key in the sewage to realize we left the spare in those dried tears on that white tee, but i’m sure our arms are tired of the burden of holding onto dead people, but i know it sucks to love such death. how the people we used to live with, they know how to open us up and they always loved to close us forever. the sadness in your voice, can everyone hear it too? there’s a little girl still finding out why they left her on that bench, there’s still a little girl reading books and poetry to fill the void on her smile as if words could string together those little thin linings they couldn’t provide and i know the little girl still sees the little boy strapped to a magnet and it pulls people and it pushes them away; they say opposites attract, but if that’s the case; i think we’re like seasons. summer heat stretching down our palms and searching for answers in ink we can’t answer, but rather bleed. winter cold shoulders bearing all of our pain, the weight of the world and their inconsistencies will always remain, we’re atlas and he loves us. spring cleaning skeleton closets, i know your joints are weary and your florals are damaged, but if people were flowers, i’d like to think we’re the rare ones that grow on mountaintops once every decade at that same spot, we won’t move, we won’t budge, we won’t die. forever waiting for mother nature’s final kiss. autumn, please. be gentle to the sea and never ask about me. i know it’s the end of times and sometimes the poetry is your phone falling on your face, that text message was a boulder and you’re a bit drowsy, sleep is what we need. i know it hurts.

i know it hurts to be you, but i love you.

i will love every bit of your seasonal changes.

I’m goofy. I’m over passionate. I’m clingy. I’m crazy. I’ll give you your freedom but in return I need reassurance. Some days I’m insecure, Other days I’m arrogant. I speak my mind.. quite too often. I bite my tongue.. quite too little. I can make your world light up if you give me a chance.. I can make your heart soft and your head spin if we’re talking romance. I sit in the corner at social gatherings because I don’t like to be bothered. But the second I have you to myself I’ll talk for hours. Most times I’m too much to handle.. but never too much love. Took me some time to realize that.
—  Reyna Biddy
Expiration Dates

you must’ve forgot the way we fell in love. you must not remember how hard I fought for us - fought to love you dry so we could rest some nights, my heart had a way of warming up for you. My body has a habit of waiting up for you. Sometimes I miss the way you feel.
The forcefield behind the delicate.
I want to be what you think about when you can’t think straight.
I want to propose a toast for the love we made infinite.
You touched me like you were scared you’d never feel again..
And maybe after me, you won’t.
— Reyna Biddy

The truth is, while they’re breaking your heart they probably won’t even have the decency to tell the truth. Like they aren’t really leaving because they have to focus on themselves, they’re leaving because they’re tired of focusing on you. or maybe.. they’re looking to find someone new and place their focus there. The truth is, sometimes true love does end. it isn’t always infinite. Maybe some of the promises he/she made weren’t meant to be broken but the universe stepped in between and interfered. Maybe you were the one they dreamt about.. but sometimes dreams become blurry. sometimes we grow up and grow apart. sometimes the truth is ugly but the growth is lovely. you have to learn to accept and appreciate all of your breakdowns in order to acknowledge your breakthroughs. and.. Truthfully, no matter how distraught you are today.. one day, someday, tomorrow will get better. the sun will beam brighter. & you’ll fall in love all over again.