poetic creation

I write you poetry
You give me bigotry
My clouded lungs consume the
Ghosts of all of you
Which inhabits me.

My mind projects
The beams in your eyes,
My legs feel numb like
Vapour clung to the skies
And my lips are soaked
In whiskey and wine
Whilst your fingers envelop
Me and our bodies

Keep sealing your secrets
Into the aching veins in
My neck, just so you
Can watch me smile
And tug on my
Sharp breaths of

The stumbling between
Games and love are
Foolish especially when the
Battlefield can become
So brutish.

For your arms are my haven
And where I bespoke and
Your silver-blonde hair is
My gold I don’t ever revoke.

Crush me with your gaze
And collide me with
Your ways for my corrupt
Conscience needs
Savaged and swayed.

Day after day posing as
A plague on my mind,
A lingering sensation
Of freedom and bliss
Concocted like a wind stained

My body is a cave that
Is crooked inside but
I will host you in these moments
Until you decide to

All mine.

You want to be beautiful. Not famous, not well known, but just simply beautiful. You want people to say to themselves how perfect you look when you are unaware of your surroundings, staring off into space or making a beat with the aimless tap of your foot. You want to explain love at first sight with your eyes and the way you let your hair worry about itself. You want to explain it in a way that would make someone secretly write poems about your mysterious beauty. You don’t want attention, but you would like it if no one hesitated to compliment your appearance. You don’t want to second guess the opportunity yourself, either. You want the qualities that love novelists write down in their books about the typical girl with the rosy lips and the butterfly nose and soft, red cheeks and as almost every novel puts it, the girl who has plenty of people dying to solve her mystery. You want to be beautiful from the tips of your toes to the top of your hair, from the stretch marks on your thighs to the circumference of your hips, from the pools in your eyes to the size of your nose. You want to be beautiful and sometimes, you wish others could see beauty in you, too.

You want to be a performer, whether it’s singing, rapping, dancing, acting, whatever. You want to perform. You dream of stadiums full of people hungry to witness the purity of your talent, reminding you through their applause that you contain a beautiful rarity. You want to inspire the whole room with that perfect note emitting from your heart, that strenuous move you perfected all with the practice of your feet, or that line you say so dramatically that was sure to make the whole stadium erupt in laughter. You want others to come see you, not to grade or to critique, but to take one good look at your passion to perform and not only feel at home, but to be inspired to chase after their passion, too.

You want to be an artist. You want the art of clay, or paint, or even crayons to speak to the most curious of souls. You want to put your tangled emotions into the most powerful form of art that unintentionally makes the piece so perfect. You want people to understand you, so when you create art with anger, or with sadness, or with happiness, or with love, all in a single piece, they will start to understand. When there are no words to describe how you feel, you know there is art and even if no one can grasp the emotions you are trying to portray, your heart reacts whenever you see your creation. Your heart knows that it was painted out onto paper or molded into a beautiful vase and your mind knows that its thoughts were exposed to your silent, yet noisy creativity. You want to make art to feel again, to remember why you started to make it in the first place, and maybe, just maybe, someone out there can feel what you felt, too, just by the glance of your creation.

You want to be a photographer, one who lives through pictures. You want the world to pose in front of you naturally because it knows that your skill will make the view all the more breathtaking. You want the liveliness of the crystal blue waves to crash into the sturdiness of the rocks at the first beach you come across to represent freedom through the lens of your camera. You want the perfect angle of the inside of a coffee shop that is hushed with silent conversations amongst every stranger of the city to represent the nature of silent serenities. You want the skyscrapers and the bridges and the taxis and the strangers to absentmindedly pose for you to represent the life that the city so easily brings. You want to photograph it all so the memory will always be stained on your mind because through the years life will give us, you want to at least capture the sweetest ones all with the help of a camera.

You want to be a musician. You want to be the person with an instrument never leaving their hands. In everything, you will find a beat to drum to or a chord to strum or a tune to clap to. You want to witness life being played out in a melody so you can perfect it with your instrumental harmony. Whether it’s in a garage or in front of millions, you want to be partners with your favorite sound and let the beauty of the grand staff overrule the bad notes stringing throughout the course of life. You want to be surrounded by musical influences who understand the same taste of perfection as you do, combining ideas after the realization that ears need to hear the richness that comes from your instrument. You want to play music for the rest of your life for anyone who is willing to listen.

You want to be a doctor. From people to animals, from assisting the physically sick to the mentally sick, no matter what it is, you just want to be at their service. You want to be the person people call when there’s an emergency because they are aware of your skill of perfectly meeting their necessary needs. You not only want to be a doctor, but a friend to all of your patients. You want to create an amiable atmosphere with whoever is lucky enough to be under the trustworthy guidance you provide with your treatments. You want to do more than just provide medication, but to drown them in your love - from animals to humans and from check-ups to surgeries. You want to be a doctor to heal the sick, but to also show them the definition of a big heart.

You want to be a cook, spending the rest of your life in a kitchen. You want to share the ingredients that would cause the world’s taste buds to dance in satisfaction. You know that the delicious dish stemmed from your own creation could demolish the previous definition of a good meal and open the eyes of many to what food should really taste like. You want pinches of this and a heaping of that to be the best dish in the whole history of cooking, being recreated in every small town kitchen to every five star restaurant because your kind heart is always up for recommending your own creative and palatable recipes.

You want to be a writer. You want the world to know what it’s like to feel so many things at once by picking up pen and paper and describing what your heart is feeling. Whether it’s fiction or inspired by real events, you want readers to feel that same feeling of joy or that same feeling of pain all by the help of a poetic creation. You don’t necessarily want to write beautifully, but you want to write powerfully and authentically to trigger old emotions and memories and to even unintentionally tell someone else’s story perfectly. You want to make connections with writing, finding out more about yourself as each paragraph ends and connecting with readers who you learn have the same feelings as you do. You want to explain your heart through writing that may not be the prettiest, but powerful enough to perfectly describe the complexity in what joy or pain can do to you.

The list of aspirations are limitless. I could go on forever pointing my finger and naming the life you wake up everyday to live for. From beautiful, to performers, to artists, to photographers, to musicians, to doctors, to cooks, to writers, to anything, there is a hunger to be what you have been wishing for so long to be. Well, in the way I see it, you don’t have to wish any longer.

You say you want to be beautiful. That was achieved the moment you were birthed into this world and even now with your existence so hellacious, you still hold that title. If only you could see yourself, darling, randomly thinking about a humorous moment and trying to stifle your wide smile due to the memory. If only you could see the way your eyes reflect the emotions you are feeling on the inside when you allow the world around you to fade. Even on Monday mornings and you dress in whatever you find first, whatever that may mean, believe it or not, that’s beautiful, too. You have to tell yourself that, darling. The best compliments are the ones that come from yourself. Stop wanting or “aspiring” to be beautiful. You already are.

You say you want to be a performer. That was achieved the moment you first got on stage, even if that stage was in your very own living room. Becoming excited about performing in front of others, even if it’s just a few people, just shows that you already have the heart of a performer, which makes you exactly that - a performer. When you devote yourself to never missing a rehearsal, practicing not to be perfect, but to simply enjoy the feeling of doing what you daydream about doing, makes you a performer. Having devotion and knowing that your passion will never die out, proving this by singing softly to yourself and constantly writing new songs, always in a dance studio learning more about what your feet can do, and having your script on you wherever you go, says that you are a performer. Stop wanting or “aspiring” to be a performer. You already are.

You say you want to be an artist. That was achieved when you colored your first picture. That was achieved when you felt a feeling no words could ever say and you said it all through a picture or through pottery. Looking at the backs of important papers and seeing the little doodles you drew from whatever you must’ve been feeling just shows that you are an artist. Stop wanting or “aspiring” to be an artist. You already are.

You say you want to be a photographer. That was achieved when you took your first picture. When you beg your friends to model for you because you see that they’re in a perfect setting or when you stop the table from eating so you can snap a pic of the food or when you hold up the whole group just to capture a moment you know you’ll miss seconds later, just know that you’re a photographer. With your skill of turning an ordinary photo into something meaningful, into something powerful, and your excitement to capture even the smallest of moments, it’s no longer an aspiration. Stop wanting or “aspiring” to be a photographer. You already are.

You say you want to be a musician. That was achieved when you devoted yourself to learning your first song on an instrument. It is not an easy thing to learn how to play an instrument, but it’s passion that makes the learning enjoyable. Your passion to play guitar or to make noise with drums or to be the backbone of music by playing the piano makes you a musician. When you absentmindedly tap the corner of your desk, making a small beat, or mentally add your own chords in while listening to music, shows that you are a musician. Stop wanting or “aspiring” to be one. You already are.

You say you want to be a doctor. That was achieved when you got your first play stethoscope as a kid. The way you were always enthralled with the doctors who eased the way through the check-up procedure and gave you candy when it was all over slowly made you develop a passion for this career. The way you are always studying different medicines for each emergency and the way you have a passion for healing the animals highlights your title. Stop wanting or “aspiring” to be a doctor. You already are.

You say you want to be a cook. That was achieved when you made your first dish. Whether you made something as small as chocolate chip cookies or brownies or even Rice Krispy treats, you became a cook. It’s the way you can no longer taste food without immediately recognizing the spices and seasonings used and knowing if there is too much of something or too little of something. It’s the way you easily know your way around every kitchen, even kitchens that are foreign to you, and the way you know which tool is used for the appropriate measurements. When your eyes light up when someone requests for you to bake them anything from your own imagination is the perfect evidence to show that you are a cook. Stop wanting or “aspiring” to be one. You already are.

You say you want to be a writer. That was achieved when you wrote your first roses are red and violets are blue poem in kindergarten. When you always take time out of your day to just write letters to yourself, documenting your growth and your feelings into a notebook, highlights the writer inside of you. It’s the way you cry in the middle of sentences because your feelings are so affective in the words you’ve just written. Taking every opportunity to put the world on pause and write down the feelings that are swarming in the moment and then pressing play to the next day and writing something completely different is evidence that you are a writer. After every sentence written and after every journal you buy to continue to pour out your feelings, you grow. You can’t possibly want or “aspire” to be a writer after this. You already are.

How can you aspire to be yourself? You can’t. Don’t let the lack of recognition fool you into thinking that you aren’t already who you want to be. It’s time to change, “I want to be,” into, “I am.” It’s time to change, “I dream of being,” into, “I’m living my dream.”

You are inspiring as you do what you’ve always dreamed of doing, so instead of saying, “I aspire,” say, “I inspire.”

—  you are already who you want to be

anonymous asked:

Why did God create humans? What's the point?

In the beginning, there was God. 

It is hard to imagine what a time without anything but God would look like (and perhaps “time” is the wrong description for what was before God’s creative debut of “LET THERE BE LIGHT”). Joining faith with what science has taught us, it is also hard to imagine a time when all the matter that now forms our Universe was squeezed into a dense little ball, about the size of a grapefruit.

But faith assures us that once upon a time there was nothing but God, and science assures us that once upon a time there was nothing but that grapefruit, and when I combine the two in my mind I imagine a mighty intake of Divine Breath, a mighty Exhalation, and a ball set into motion across nothingness, unfurling as it rolls and expanding outward into All Things. Light and dust and heat and time blossom out like fireworks, coalesce into stars, into planets, into seas and dry land, into lattice-works of cells that gradually grow into plants and fish and birds and humans, yes, humans at long last! A whole chain unrolling before we arrive on the scene, formed from dust that whirled into cells that swirled into ever-more-complex ladders of DNA – a tapestry strung together by a Master-Weaver from the depths of time.

These new creatures, these humans, had something special woven into their DNA. That Being who set the universe into motion with Their first exhalation filled Their lungs with air again – and breathed Their own Essence into the very cells of human beings. No scientist has noticed yet, but every twist of every chromosome, every rung on those ladders spiraling out inside of us, is intertwined with the very Breath of the Divine. Straighten your shoulders, hold your head high: Divinity is as integral to your makeup as your genes.

Years pass, a whole lot of them, once humans come up with the concept of a year. And from the start, they ask questions. What is this world around us and how did it come to be; how can we live more comfortably, more efficiently, more happily; what is our relation to the animals living with us; what are stars and how can we reach them; why must we suffer, why must we die; and above all, the deepest question burning in the pit of our souls: what is the point of it all?

We believe a God created us, built us up from dust and nothingness and breathed Their own Life into our nostrils. We believe this God is self-sufficient, does not depend on us in the slightest, could exist just fine without our existence, and yet, God chose to make us – so why?

“When I consider your heavens,
   the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars
   that you have set in place,
what is humankind that you are mindful of them,
   human beings that you care for them?” (Psalm 8:3-4)

God is three Persons – Parent, Son, and Spirit – and so it stands to reason that it was not out of mere loneliness, a need for company, that we were made. Nor were we created out of some divine power trip – while it is only fitting that we worship the God who made us, who sustains us and offers us eternal life, God does not rely on that worship to exist, to be secure or feel fulfilled.

The only remaining reason for our existence that I can think of, then, is Love – it’s as simple and as endlessly intricate as that.  

No human can presume to know the ways of God. Our minds and senses are limited, while God’s are infinitely vast – but through the Bible and through the life and sacrifice of Christ, God offers us a glimpse into Their Plan: and that plan begins and ends with Love.

1 John 4:8 tells us that God is Love, and if we dare to dissect and study Love like scientists, we will soon determine that wherever there is Love, there is fruitfulness. This divine, vast, unlimited, eternal Love is manifested in the Three Persons of God, who constantly give birth to Themselves. …And we tiny, short-lived humans on this blue and green dot in a corner of the universe? We are the fruit of the Love that is God. 

God exists within Themself, eternally generated and sustained by God’s own Love. But such vast Love delights in bearing still more fruit, even if it did not need to: and so a universe unfolded, and Divine Spirit entered the lungs of mortal beings on spindly legs.

This is the why to our existence: God’s eternal joy of Being, an uncontainable joy that shaped itself into stars and stones and bumblebees, a mirth that takes us by the hands and spins us ’round in a heady dance. God created us because creation is a part of God’s very nature: God is Love, and Love bears fruit. God gave birth to us so that we might experience the Love they revel in endlessly, and so that we might learn to reciprocate the Love that They poured into us.

Knowing this, what should we do with our existence?

Jesus tells us exactly what we should do: spread the Love that pulses in our souls, the Divinity interlaced with our DNA. Spread light. Spread hope. Spread peace. Protect those who suffer under unjust systems, give a voice to the voiceless, love even those who choose to hate. Bear fruits of Love, and delight in Love’s fruit. And, with every breath, revel in the joy of being.

In all that we do, the purpose of our existence is to glorify God: only in glorifying our Creator do we find fulfillment, for it is through God that we live and move and have our being. 

So go forth with hope in your heart, remember where we come from and where we are headed, and glorify God with your life.

anonymous asked:

OMG agust d just tweeted?! 그대의 창조와 삶의 끝에 함께 하길그대의 자리가 어딜지라도 관대하리결국 시련의 끝에 만개하리시작은 미약할지언정 끝은 창대하리160816 Agust D

YESSS HE DID. /cries/ this is just a rough trans, he used an ending that is kind of poetic (?) 

Your creation and life will be together until the end
No matter where your position is, be generous
At the end of the test/ hardship, you’ll be in full bloom
Your beginnings will be humble, your end will be prosperous

anonymous asked:

I am literally so in awe of everything that you do. How do you manage to be so exceptional? Like really, give me some tips.

Ahh don’t be silly! I’m just a stubborn girl with a dream. 

The thing is — and I really want to stress this — the line between “exceptional” and “not exceptional” is slippery and often arbitrary — there are so, so, so many people just as deserving, passionate, and intelligent as me (actually, most of the time, much more), but who haven’t been given the same opportunities, or haven’t been thrown into the same environment conducive to “exceptional” achievement. I think about that a lot. I do treat literature like a vocation, but I won’t pretend for one second my current situation isn’t half luck, half privilege.

That said, having role models & holding them very close to your heart is very important — even if it’s someone on the internet, someone famous, someone you’ve never met, or a friend/teacher/mentor (or all of the above). Throughout adolescence I’ve had a long list of idols (not coincidentally all women; all writers & artists) whose names I write on post-it notes & stick on my wall so I’ll always see it & be reminded. I think it’s important to watch these people: read the biography of the author whose skill you think you couldn’t match in your wildest dreams; follow the crazy high-achievers that inspire you on tumblr & twitter. If the information age & social media craze affords young people any advantage, it’s got to be the ability to spy on other people’s lives to a hitherto unknown degree & pick up some tips. As stalker-ish as that sounds.

Example: when I was 16, I followed an artist at Yale who was in her senior year, making art & writing & wading her way through depression. Since then I’ve seen her grow, shed loves & lives, attain a high-paying job & give it up to write a book — with an agent and everything — taking the plunge into something new & scary, taking risks and, well, being exceptional. I’ve learned so much just watching someone else grow up. I also wouldn’t have the attitude toward life that I do if I hadn’t read a biography of Anna Wintour while hiding on the floor of my closet at night when I was 12 or 13 (the only place I would have enough light to read without being caught by my parents for staying up late.)  I wouldn’t be alive without the wisdom and courage espoused by Kay Redfield Jamison in An Unquiet Mind, Touched With Fire, and Night Falls Fast. This list could go on forever & ever — find who these people are for you; live your life alongside theirs (not in a creepy way, but hopefully you know what I mean.) If I’m interesting at all, it’s because I learned something from someone else.

I think it’s important to be hyper-aware of the enormity of artistry, poetic & intellectual creation in the world — I’m constantly reckoning with that mass of output, knowing I’m but a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things but still wanting to reach out & touch its boundaries. I think it’s important to see yourself as part of a democracy of souls, to recognise a responsibility to live every moment with intention. “Constant absorption” is probably a description of what I’m striving toward right now — I create stuff, yeah, but not enough to deserve the label. Being at Oxford, curating this mess of a blog, reading as much as I can lay grubby hands on — that’s all a passive role. And if that leads to exceptional achievement, it says a lot about life — about art, the world, the hope a cynic like me might have to get up in the morning. Again, so much of this — “this” being everything I share online, everything you all might know about me — is determined by forces greater than me & out of my control (and I don’t mean by a God, but by advantage & position & chance.) And these are very fragmentary, beginning thoughts on this concept — someone smarter would probably give a fuller & more coherent response. But just some thoughts.

Philadelphia, PA

The sea has long been a source of poetic and artistic creation, of both solitude and coming together. Long after he renounced his US Citizenship, T.S. Eliot spoke to journalists in 1952, quipping, No one has ever truly fallen in love unless they have cruised the open ocean.” Wise words, old bard. For much of human history, culture moved by ship. 

Starting in 2015, Ace Hotel is moving by ship, too. 

We have purchased the historic SS United States, the world’s fastest ocean-liner, and the last US-flagged trans-Atlantic super liner for refurbishing and conversion into our newest venture: Ace Hotel Ocean.

The United States, languishing in our nation’s first capital city since 1996, was put up for sale. Norwegian Cruise Line (NCL) assumed ownership of the 990-foot ship in 2003 and announced its intention of refurbishing the vessel and returning her to service. Restoring the ship is, for anyone, an ambitious goal, but one deemed both worthy and feasible. That idea was floated in 2008, well before our current economic crisis. Recently, however, Star Cruises (NCL’s parent company) determined that this sort of undertaking was beyond their budget and they decided to sell the ship. We fell in love with the United States, and stepped in to save her. The rest, as they say, is history. 

Or the future.