Red Satin Draped Over Porcelain Skin

Approach

I am cool as tilled earth but this humming in my veins - drone of summer bees before spring even starts flit of tiny birds all down my nerve endings in haze-light

here you are already beginning to blossom but the watching for your waking makes you footfalls on warm sand - right before snow falls - tracks before your arrival

where I would not steal you away would not haunt you wanting I dream of low voices curtains in a gentle billow over the bed your fingers along my nape

there are miniature leaf-buds on the trees it is water-cold and yet stolen summer hums in my hands slipping into yours knowing them for harbingers of spring

“A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity.”

— Franz Kafka (via writingdotcoffee)

“I have named you queen. There are taller than you, taller. There are purer than you, purer. There are lovelier than you, lovelier. But you are the queen. When you go through the streets No one recognizes you. No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks At the carpet of red gold That you tread as you pass, The nonexistent carpet. And when you appear All the rivers sound In my body, bells Shake the sky, And a hymn fills the world. Only you and I, Only you and I, my love, Listen to it.”

— -Pablo Neruda, Love Poems Get This Book (via awesomebookquotes)

letters to milena // franz kafka

I will take as much space I want, if it bothers you then you can change.

Apollo: I would do anything for you

Artemis: Have 3 meals in a day and a regular sleep schedule

Apollo: Anything else?

Redress

Dug out that dress--you know the one

I wore when we met, all eyeleted sunflowers

Swore I looked approachably sweet

Yet had your heart racing uncontrollably

Je ne sais quoi to buck the quotidian

An enchanting chance encounter

If only you unearthed the woman beneath

Took a dip beyond the shallow end

Peered past the Sunday-in-bed appeal

So I slip it on for me now, a better fit

More oomph than you'd know what to do with

“I do not wish to convert people from one organized religion to another; I have no interest in any of these organized religions. My interest is in Dhamma - the truth, the teachings of all Enlightened Ones. If at all there is any conversion, it should be from misery to happiness, from defilement to purity, from bondage to liberation, from ignorance to Enlightenment.”

— S. N. Goenka

Summerland Homecoming by Stijn Windig

She was just a mere photograph

In black and white

Only 17 and not a clue in life

He two years older

He showed her colours like gold and white

So she explored them with him

But she was gullible and blind

Trouble tied to his name

Little did she know he was just in it for the game

She had beauty and grace

But this wasn’t his first rodeo race

Lacking in self love

She thought she’d find in him

Ignoring flags of red

Because love isn’t a sin

Soon to learn the cold hard truth

That love is not always as it seems

He had a plan all along

To leave her crying on her knees

Asleep in the night

Oblivious he was gone

One shot from a gun

One cruel hit and run

He took all the money he could possibly carry from the store

Before placing the gun next to her

He wiped his fingerprints off

She wakes with fear in her eyes

To sounds of sirens and flashing lights

She wasn’t the first to pay for his mistakes

Because after all

This wasn’t his first rodeo race

-tamara-catherine