6 minutes ago
Seguite una strada: non importa se sia facile o meno, l'importante è che sia la vostra. Poetry Slam - music session - per la campagna di sensibilizzazione per le donazioni di sangue [22.06.19]
7 minutes ago
A Survivor's body is a work of art.
From the pain of the past,
to living with blame, the shame,
the sense of irreparable loss,
the numbness that comes
from all feelings suppressed
that only look like
A survivor's body is a work of art.
Violated, silenced, ostracised
they walk bare feet
the burning road scorching underneath,
but they move on.
A survivor's body is a work of art..
For a survivor of trauma, every single day is a gift. Their past overpowers their present. They suffer of constant depression and intense anxiety. Anything can trigger their past and instantly they will be transported to the time that they are trying so hard to move on from. A survivor breathes fear even in the safest places. And yet, a survivor survives. It is our resilience that makes us who we are. Never our past, never our past..
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11 minutes ago
//We started walking,
And you disappeared.//
© @c.r.a.p.p.y.p.o.e.t.r.y .
[Image Source: Pinterest]
Thanks for reading 🌸
23 minutes ago
Scrawny librarian doesn't know/
Love doesn't want its love to keep quiet/
She tells us to shush/ because no one asks her
what is her name/like they want to remember it from the moment she confesses/She tames her books in echolalia/How to pronounce heartbreak/When lovers come and go/ off in their ways with shallow hearts and swallow foot/ Pages we read lately aren't sound proof theatres/ and everytime we shuffle our fingers across spines/torpedo laughter cracks.
We don't maim love/She warns/'Don't make love between bookshelves'/It was equinoctial era/when seasons looked no longer than days/ and you meet me with my name/ tattooed in the places I kissed/ You say you will do it till you run out of skin/ People don't run out of their skin/ lovers don't, so please stay/ I know you will/
Bookshelves are quirky events/ where guys leave girls to find girls/ Librarian notifies/ you can't bookmark a love and search it in the same place you leave it from/Echolalia of our names together sounds like two distant towns/ and I am a travel you never intended to make/
Librarian enquires/ 'Lovers read romances in each other's eyes, why do you need one'/
I answer, 'What is your name?'
Echolalia of mistaken lovers.
33 minutes ago
Writer’s Block / About last night
Starring out my window with the faintest of light,
Can’t sleep so my pen is ready but words don’t suffice,
Darkness befriends me as I gaze with the strain of sight,
Stories and tales fail me like best laid plans put on ice,
How do I escape this cold embrace of writer’s block,
Inspiration escapes and leaves nothing but a blank page,
While I race against time and deadlines of the clock,
Perfection derails me as I wrestle clutches of its cage,
On the bright side every dark cloud has a silver lining,
Despite my pangs of hunger to a taste a new story,
And struggle to break my fast after a moon sighting,
While seeking the stars for signs and flashes of poetry,
In the stillness and silence of this beautiful night,
A calmness looms despite the drought and storm,
Surrendering to my dreams as I await the rising light,
Ink wet and ready in anticipation of the return to form,
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