#cartography - Hello Poetry

朝が明ける前に、地図はすでに描かれていた。敵地に書かれた名前は最初の言葉が発せられる前に。日食を見つめすぎて光がどんなものか思い出せなかった。あらゆる顔に影がまだ照らされ続けようとしていた。港はここにあった。君はまるで天候のように、波止場で揺れながら、まるで岸が海を荒々しくしているように、やって来た。 8時間の静寂。そして、死んだ哲学者の後… まだ間違った座標で航海している。まだ岸を嵐と間違えている。恐怖は現実だ。日食は現実だ。君が見ている敵も現実だ。でも、君が何を狙ったのか、よく考えてみろ。港は海と口論はしない。ただ、海になることを拒んでいるだけだ。地図を描き直せ。岸はまだここにある。同じ光。まだ待っています The philosophers are restless in their graves. Mill is being passed around like a wanted poster at a town meeting where everyone already agreed on the verdict before the defendant arrived. Mill did not ask for this. Mill is tired. Mill has been tired since 1873. Two thousand years ago a carpenter let a rich man walk away and did not run after him with "better" theology. This has never once been the sermon. This should always be the sermon. cslewis ordered another round and waited and waited and waited and this was considered weakness by people who have never grown anything. Somewhere a seed is inside the ground pretending to be nothing. It is not nothing. It is just not yet.

0

Feb 28

Feb 28, 2026 at 7:46 PM UTC

Im

Machigatta Map, Machigatta Shore

朝が明ける前に、地図はすでに描かれていた。敵地に書かれた名前は最初の言葉が発せられる前に。日食を見つめすぎて光がどんなものか思い出せなかった。あらゆる顔に影がまだ照らされ続けようとしていた。港はここにあった。君はまるで天候のように、波止場で揺れながら、まるで岸が海を荒々しくしているように、やって来た。 8時間の静寂。そして、死んだ哲学者の後… まだ間違った座標で航海している。まだ岸を嵐と間違えている。恐怖は現実だ。日食は現実だ。君が見ている敵も現実だ。でも、君が何を狙ったのか、よく考えてみろ。港は海と口論はしない。ただ、海になることを拒んでいるだけだ。地図を描き直せ。岸はまだここにある。同じ光。まだ待っています The philosophers are restless in their graves. Mill is being passed around like a wanted poster at a town meeting where everyone already agreed on the verdict before the defendant arrived. Mill did not ask for this. Mill is tired. Mill has been tired since 1873. Two thousand years ago a carpenter let a rich man walk away and did not run after him with "better" theology. This has never once been the sermon. This should always be the sermon. cslewis ordered another round and waited and waited and waited and this was considered weakness by people who have never grown anything. Somewhere a seed is inside the ground pretending to be nothing. It is not nothing. It is just not yet.

28

You wanted my words you’ve wanted my thoughts, and all that you’ve heard; It’s my heart that you’ve got. Love I’m right here and I forever will be, my lips will brush your ear for all eternity. I’ll bathe in your soul and I’ll drown in your eyes you will make me whole and you will light my skies. Love; I am blind for you’re all I can see, but I will never mind for all eternity. She speaks to me in poetry in calligraphy and with cartography, and bestows upon me these blessings; endless dreams and epiphanies. I correspond with you and you to me, attached and complimenting eachother as a wave to the sea. Upon our flesh two puzzle pieces as each completing, Darling I could never resist, quickly defeating. You keep each secret like a stone before you put it into your pocket. And I don’t ever want you to feel alone, you’ve got me locked up like a locket. Your luscious hair isn’t the only weight that lies upon your soft shoulders. And I just want to be in your future and current state, so let me pick up and carry those boulders. So please don’t you ever abandon me like Lipton’s alligator soup and Altoids sour candy.

0

Jul 28, 2025

Jul 28, 2025 at 9:18 AM UTC

emmackenzie

Calligraphy & Cartography

You wanted my words you’ve wanted my thoughts, and all that you’ve heard; It’s my heart that you’ve got. Love I’m right here and I forever will be, my lips will brush your ear for all eternity. I’ll bathe in your soul and I’ll drown in your eyes you will make me whole and you will light my skies. Love; I am blind for you’re all I can see, but I will never mind for all eternity. She speaks to me in poetry in calligraphy and with cartography, and bestows upon me these blessings; endless dreams and epiphanies. I correspond with you and you to me, attached and complimenting eachother as a wave to the sea. Upon our flesh two puzzle pieces as each completing, Darling I could never resist, quickly defeating. You keep each secret like a stone before you put it into your pocket. And I don’t ever want you to feel alone, you’ve got me locked up like a locket. Your luscious hair isn’t the only weight that lies upon your soft shoulders. And I just want to be in your future and current state, so let me pick up and carry those boulders. So please don’t you ever abandon me like Lipton’s alligator soup and Altoids sour candy.

34

My falling out with the Cartographer was not absolute. Though it's easy to notice when the deep gravity of the Universe, has been reduced to the mundane whispers of the ordinary. The strength of loyalty is tested in these blind walks of faith. As the world unfolds beneath my feet, the mind too does wander. Hidden worlds vibrate between reality and fiction. I map this microcosm of the known, to reach the ever after. And so it goes that in my purposeful aimlessness, I'll find the road back. Every excuse will always be, but letting go will set me free. Free to once again entangle creation's creativity.

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Apr 21, 2020

Apr 21, 2020 at 11:33 AM UTC

devin-ortiz

Just off the Path

My falling out with the Cartographer was not absolute. Though it's easy to notice when the deep gravity of the Universe, has been reduced to the mundane whispers of the ordinary. The strength of loyalty is tested in these blind walks of faith. As the world unfolds beneath my feet, the mind too does wander. Hidden worlds vibrate between reality and fiction. I map this microcosm of the known, to reach the ever after. And so it goes that in my purposeful aimlessness, I'll find the road back. Every excuse will always be, but letting go will set me free. Free to once again entangle creation's creativity.

10

There’s this new scar down the back of your hand. “New” implying that once in the recent past it was absent from your skin. And you didn’t really mean for it to be there, this faint red line, Sitting too close to the lone freckle that exists on the back of your palm like Polaris. Because now it’s a constant reminder of how you got it. And scars do not fade easily from your skin.

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Dec 21, 2019

Dec 21, 2019 at 2:34 AM UTC

Longnoideatime

The Cartography of the Back of Your Hand

There’s this new scar down the back of your hand. “New” implying that once in the recent past it was absent from your skin. And you didn’t really mean for it to be there, this faint red line, Sitting too close to the lone freckle that exists on the back of your palm like Polaris. Because now it’s a constant reminder of how you got it. And scars do not fade easily from your skin.

6

My tears; your pillow, An unmapped territory. Will you help me chart this new country? Or leave me - unto myself - An island of sorrows?

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Mar 10, 2019

Mar 10, 2019 at 12:44 AM UTC

annh

Cartography

My tears; your pillow, An unmapped territory. Will you help me chart this new country? Or leave me - unto myself - An island of sorrows?

5

The world is often smaller Than the maps we hold in our hands Though vision made concrete Is the true fruit of anyone’s plans Maybe that marks the difference Between apathy and awe How grandiose our vision Before digesting what we saw Imaginations fueled Scraped knees Building kingdoms in our minds Woodland forts out of reeds Don’t let anticipation Spoil the ground beneath your feet Nor adventure in action Outweigh the visions that you seek This world is often larger Offering what could never be foreseen Etch your maps, clutch them tight! Though pay heed to the road before you And all the spaces in between

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Aug 22, 2015

Aug 22, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC

david-fauntleroy

Anaximander

The world is often smaller Than the maps we hold in our hands Though vision made concrete Is the true fruit of anyone’s plans Maybe that marks the difference Between apathy and awe How grandiose our vision Before digesting what we saw Imaginations fueled Scraped knees Building kingdoms in our minds Woodland forts out of reeds Don’t let anticipation Spoil the ground beneath your feet Nor adventure in action Outweigh the visions that you seek This world is often larger Offering what could never be foreseen Etch your maps, clutch them tight! Though pay heed to the road before you And all the spaces in between

21

Y la cartografia no importa y sigo escribiendo como los dias de ayer con las manos quemadas y mi maquina que no existe. Sanitarios en manos y muebles en caricias.

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Nov 26, 2014

Nov 26, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC

Borges

Cartografia Psysica

Y la cartografia no importa y sigo escribiendo como los dias de ayer con las manos quemadas y mi maquina que no existe. Sanitarios en manos y muebles en caricias.

2

She's all Spring and Summer Strength and words of shelter He's all maps and formlines waits in wings for Springtime Take these tattered ghosts from their trenches ink-smeared, tethered tight to the depth curve Autumn only waits for the silent ones sometimes. "If their voices chase out the brisk months, quiet those windy wights with a new song. Autumn only waits for the silent ones," she said. In 3/4 time the distances unwind so swiftly Afterburn of quiet nights glows, fading. He's all sovereign anger, righteous, stiff but twisting She's all cavalier, now-- cat-quick through projections Past the legends, rose our directions Keyed to Winter's dumb introversions Years just spilling over the levee's prescribed edge. With their weathered ghosts in the trenches, tired-eyed, tethered tight to the map's edge Autumn only cares for the silent ones some days.

0

Aug 22, 2014

Aug 22, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC

kyle-kulseth

Tachymeter

She's all Spring and Summer Strength and words of shelter He's all maps and formlines waits in wings for Springtime Take these tattered ghosts from their trenches ink-smeared, tethered tight to the depth curve Autumn only waits for the silent ones sometimes. "If their voices chase out the brisk months, quiet those windy wights with a new song. Autumn only waits for the silent ones," she said. In 3/4 time the distances unwind so swiftly Afterburn of quiet nights glows, fading. He's all sovereign anger, righteous, stiff but twisting She's all cavalier, now-- cat-quick through projections Past the legends, rose our directions Keyed to Winter's dumb introversions Years just spilling over the levee's prescribed edge. With their weathered ghosts in the trenches, tired-eyed, tethered tight to the map's edge Autumn only cares for the silent ones some days.

41