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AC Jun 25
art is an interchangeable form.
what is poetry can be prose can be music can be art can be TV can be movies can be video games can be visual novels can be webcomics can be dance can be movement can be aesthetics can be a flash of inspiration hidden behind a street corner.

art is a connective process.
you forge new threads between yourself, others, and the world around you.
you realize the universe is so much bigger than yourself. and yet, you discover just how you can be a part of it, just how you can fit in.

through art we are not human, yet art is the most human form of being there is.
art motivates us not just to live, but to thrive. it shows us the evidence of why we should all still be alive.

and to appreciate art, is no less than to make it.
to create, is no lesser or greater than to be.

go feel art.
go make art.

go be art.
Mouthwashing (the 2024 hit indie horror game) has absolutely wrecked my life with how good (and bad) it was...but hey, at least I've got some new thoughts on what true art is.
Marya0324 Jun 5
If I had your power, Wanda,
To meet another version of me,
In an obscure corner of a universe,
I wonder....
Would she be perfect, better than I've ever known?
Would she be a genius, with every idea her own?
Would she have it all together, so she'd never break,
Would she know how exactly not to make a mistake?
I hope her world thrives eternally, on her joy,
I hope nothing in her life can ever be destroyed,
I wish her peace, and the strength to find her way,
When the sun hides, the moon is dark, and her heart is led astray.
Lizzie Bevis May 20
The warm May sun
plants kisses my skin
as late spring days
bring new beginnings.

I close my eyes and listen
to busy birds singing
as they build nests with care,
weaving a safe home
for their chicks to share.

I do love the clear May mornings,
when the garden is bejewelled
with dew-kissed leaves
that sparkle when catching the sunlight.

I look at the countryside,
draped in emerald green,
as I watch the breeze rippled fields
create a stunning artist's scene.

I smile as flowers stand waving,
as they greet all who pass
with vibrant cheer,
much to many a humble
bumblebee's delight.

©️Lizzie Bevis
My May thoughts...I feel so uplifted about this beautiful month! 🙂
Lizzie Bevis Apr 24
The soft wind brings resurrection,
as seeds crack the Earth's waking shell,
and she shrugs off her pale complexion,
while spring's mystery is dispelled.

Cherry blossoms break their silence,
pink confetti pirouettes on the breeze.
After months of cold defiance,
new leaves grace once barren trees.

In murky ponds, frogspawn transforms,
and tadpoles emerge to the spring light.
The weather warms from winter storms,
as days bask in the sun's delight.

This is nature's revolution,
Death in reverse, life is reborn.
In April's retribution,
Faith is restored, and hope adorns all.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2
7:17am Sunday Feb 2, 2025

a phrase freely borrowed from
Thomas Jefferson, strikes the
face while being delivered by
Sunrise’s
first glinting, both  eye opening
thought and event, a duality
intersection of notions & sensations,

for the early start to a newborn
week, making one think; truly
think. accompanied by a softly
serenading concerto played piano,

young children
laughing wirh shrieking delight,
as they climb aboard their hazy
dozy parents’ wedding bed,
launching themselves with
rocket like force on stomachs
and groins, all groans & moans,
and in the solitude of his mind’s
quiet, he laughs as he ponders,
a concluding a single concept:

This, this, is the business of life
“making yourself what you are…”
a recovered memory stumble
dead poet Dec 2024
shall i compare myself to others every day?
they are more charming, and more talented:
tough luck does take its toll; often too hefty to pay,
and the bill of regrets is way past its due date;
sometimes too hot the baton of pride burns inside,
and often in a sea of mediocrity naked, i swim;
and every ball from ball sometimes drops,
by a poet in his underpants, and *****, untrimm’d;
but my eternal hard-on shall not fade,
nor lose faith inside the hole i bore’st;
nor shall spite keep me from dues unpaid,
when that eternal hard-on in time so grow’st:
so long as i can sing, profoundly and care-free,
so long lives this - it’s a fun read, won’t you agree?
My humble tribute to The Bard of Avon.

Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
By William Shakespeare


Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
   So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Zee Nov 2024
It could have been different.
Don't you think?

If we never lived.
The lives we did.

If fate didn't have other plans.
If death didn't take a vacation.
If one thing changed our direction.

We could be indescribable.
We could be unrecognizable.

Trapped in another time.
Destined to never meet.

It could have been different.
Somehow we could have changed.

Never be who we were meant to.
Doomed to forever stay the same.

Fate is funny like that.
Still we wonder.

Only in another life.
Things would be better.
These BEAUTIFUL NIGHT SKIES are
so CALM and SERENE,
so PEACEFUL AND QUIET,
like a MOON LOVERS
SWEET DREAM!!!
The DARK SHEETS of
NIGHT, gives to us
DELIGHT,
of the TWINKLING
STARS that light
up the DARK NIGHT!!!
The STARS ALL DANCE,
In the sky of GLOOM,
Then comes
the ILLUMINATION,
of a BRIGHT LIT MOON!!


B.R.
Date: 09/9/2023
OmRh Sep 2024
On weekends, I usually indulge in mundane pastimes in which life duties have no bearing.
Going on leisurely walks, watching films, or making acquaintances. Ah, the art of living!
On most weekdays, however, I often find myself drowning in murky and troubled waters.
Where expectations and obligations gather in a swarm, taking on sharklike features
Striking after telltale signs of surrender. Leaving trails of existential horrors in their wake.

What would it take to flee and veer off the current course? I’d then sit and ponder.
To chase after rosy-deemed dreams made entirely of garments, needles, and thread.
Confiding in parents amidst the chaos is also a proven futile effort because —
‘You’d outgrow your fleeting obsessions,’ is what they always confidently mutter.
Opening room for more doubt and despair to barge in with a loud clatter.

But I learned to hide my biting resentment underneath layers of feigned indifference.
Mastered the craft of walking in confident strides and etching on saccharine smiles.
Because what good comes from performing a Shakespearean tragedy before prying eyes?
However, when the game of play-pretend becomes taxing, and patience starts wearing thin
I seek refuge in my bedroom vicinity, where I freely entertain the blood-spattered what-if musings.
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