bibell21

Latest Posts by bibell21

Anaïs Nin, from a letter to Henry Miller written c. August 1932, featured in A Literate Passion

lovecore this. cottagecore that. what about the reactor core its going to explode

pitter patter putter patter *you look down and see this*

snoopy items by sissi.ceramics

sodaa

A Peach like you should Pear with me.

yeah so I was combing thru ep 1 for background details and saw jayce has a poster of a pinup girl wearing a corset on the wall of his room. dork

i walk a fine line between “i’m asexual and i hate how much the world revolves around sex” and “sex is way too stigmatized and people should be able to be more open about it if they want to”

file -> phrases that are going to shift something in me forever

i think riker convinced everyone to participate so that data could experience christmas

you ever wake up from a dream amd immediately think "well that was a bit heavyhanded"

cannot stop thinking about this tweet… AUGH 😭

this too shall pass

fanart of @emilinqa ’s crazy good tos academy au uniform designs ^_^ some spocks and late night mckirk

(also sorry emil you’re seeing these for the SQUILLIONTH time oml ILY TY AGAIN FOR SHOWING ME UR AUUUUU)

When your genocidal warmongering colonialist imperialistic buff butch milf wolf mom wants you to join your home country’s military industrial complex but you’re too busy being artdeco steampunk fenty beauty mogul diplomat goddess with a buff latino-adjacent boytoy who has a situationship with a sad eastern European 90’s heroine-chic machine herald Czech hunter twink boyfriend

beanie baby dragon is crossing your dash

what are ur fave poems of all-time?

hi 💌 here are some:

“Hanging Fire” by Audre Lorde

“Tired” by Langston Hughes

“Having a Coke with You” by Frank O'Hara

“Love After Love” by Derek Walcott

“Mayakovsky” by Frank O'Hara

“i like my body when it is with your” by E. E. Cummings

“New Year's Eve Prayer” by Jeff Buckley

“Rain” by Roberto Bolaño

“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver

“Spring Torrents” by Sara Teasdale

“Tulips” by Sylvia Plath 

“A great Hope fell” by Emily Dickinson

“Poem” by Langston Hughes

“Sometimes I Pretend” by Naomi Shihab Nye

“What Was Once the Largest Shopping Center in Northern Ohio Was Built Where There Had Been a Pond I Used to Visit Every Summer Afternoon” by Mary Oliver

“Summer Morning” by Mary Oliver

“You Are Tired (I Think)” by E. E. Cummings

“Sifter” by Naomi Shihab Nye

“Emergency Management” by Camille Rankine

“Thanksgiving 2006” by Ocean Vuong

“Litany” by Langston Hughes

“Suicide in the Trenches” by Siegfried Sassoon

“I heard a Fly buzz - when I died” by Emily Dickinson

“Warning” by Jenny Joseph

“[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]” by E. E. Cummings

“Love Sorrow” by Mary Oliver

“Conversations About Home (at the Deportation Centre)” by Warsan Shire

“Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out” by Richard Siken

“Limited but Fertile Possibilities Are Offered by This Brochure” by Marge Piercy

“The Thing Is” by Ellen Bass

“Mad Girl's Love Song” by  Sylvia Plath

“The Century’s Decline” by Wislawa Szymborska

“A Primer For The Small Weird Loves” by Richard Siken

“Unpainted Door” by Louise Glück

“Spring has come back again” by Rainer Maria Rilke

“Homesickness” by Marina Tsvetaeva

“Don't Hesitate” by Mary Oliver

“There's a certain Slant of light” by Emily Dickinson

“Poem for Haruko” by June Jordan

“To Be Human Is to Sing Your Own Song” by Mary Oliver

“Toward a City That Sings” by June Jordan

“Edward the Confessor” by Eileen Myles (under the cut because I couldn't find it online)

Edward the Confessor by Eileen Myles

I have a confession to make I wish there were some role in society I could fulfill I could be a confessor I have a confession to make I have this way when I step into the bakery on 2nd Ave. of wanting to be the only really nice person in the store so the harried sales woman with several toned hair will like me. I do this in all kinds of stores, coffee shops xerox shops, everywhere I go. And invariably I leave my keys, xeroxing, my coffee from the last place I am being so nice. I try so hard to make a great impression on these neutral strangers right down to the perfect warm smile I get entirely lost and stagger back out onto the street, bereft of something major. It’s really leaning too hard on the everyday. My mother was the kind of woman who dragging us into stores always seemed to charm the pants off the cashier. She was such a great person, so human though at home she was such a bitch, I mean really distant. I imitate her and I don’t do it well. She didn’t leave her wallet or us in a store. I’m just a pale imitation it is simply not my style to open the hearts of strangers to my true personhood. I hope you accept this tiny confession of what I am currently going through. And if you are experiencing something of a similar nature tell someone, not me, but tell someone. It’s the new human program to be in. It would be nice for at least these final moments if we could sigh with the relief of being in the same program with all the other humans whispering in school. I can’t quite locate the terror, but I am trying to be my mother or Edward the Confessor smiling down on you with up-praying hands. I am looking down at the tips of my boots as I step across the balcony of the church excited to be allowed to say these things. Outside my church is a relationship. On 11th street this guy and this woman are selling the woman so they can get more dope. All their things are there, rags and loaves of bread and make-up. And there was— this was incredible. Two men lying by the door of the church giving each other blow-jobs. They were sort of street guys, one black one white. I said hey you can’t do that here. They jumped up, one spit come out of his mouth. If you don’t get out of here I’ll call the cops. Don’t call the cops we’ll go, we’ll leave. That was a shock. That was more than I expected to see in a day. Something about seeing the guy spit come out of his mouth. He didn’t have to do that. I guess I scared him. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was scared too.

Fyodor Dostoevsky, Poor Folk (translated by C. J. Hogarth)

oh ok

you see in me the things I cannot see myself

𝗍𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗒 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗅𝗍

𝖨𝗀: 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾_𝗌𝖺𝗅𝗍_

DOG MOSAICS (From Italy and Greece ××)