It's raining tonight
Smearing the light down the window
as though the paint hasn't dried on the night

It's raining...
Is it raining where you are?
I can feel the rain wet upon my face...

Many miles apart
You are in your eyrie alone and asleep,
I am imagining you there, me there, us together, tonight

It's raining...
Is it raining where you are?
I am hearing the rain, in my heart

The moon, the same moon
Stares down at me, and watches over you
I take comfort from the silver moonlight falling on us both

It's raining...
Is it raining where you are?
I'm seeing the rain illuminated by the moon, sparkling underfoot

Lonely, I'm lonely
Sitting here, awake, alone... longing.
I am imagining me there, you here, us together always

It's raining...
Is it raining where you are?
I love the smell of rain in the grass at night

Can I take the step toward you,
Out into the night?
Can I take the step to another life
That may mend or break my heart?
Can I take you from your life, make you step lightly into mine?
Can I live without you still?

It's raining...
Is it raining where you are?
I can taste the rain, salt upon my tongue....

"It's raining."

My tears shed for you to stay
Only bounced off you, raining down on me in ricochet.
Now you hate me for not chasing you,
But what was I supposed to do?
I was too busy trying to wade through
All the blood
You let flood
My lungs,
And no matter how many times
My punctured heart begged for a bandage,
You just managed
To blame it on my damage,
And I believed you,
And that's what gave me the will to leave you.

"It's raining."

You always have a way of coming back,
My apologies as I let you back in becoming our soundtrack.

"It's raining."

What would you say?
What would you see?
If I told you "Don't stay,"
If I lied through my teeth:
"You meant nothing to me."

"It's raining."

Sometimes I worry about you,
Living this life without you,
And even though I don't believe the same,
I clasp my hands together, and speak His name.
I desperately call out to your God,
"Even if it's from abroad,
Keep her safe."
And the words rub into my bones,
Your words grate
My bones.
I'm not coming home,
So don't wait up,
Tricking me back with some apology you just made up.

"It's raining."

I sit up at night, hiding behind a paperback,
Greeting the night sky as an insomniac.
I never meant to hurt you,
But I'm never coming back.

"It's raining."

You hurt me,
But then he heard me.
And urged me
To love my injuries
Back to sanity,
And he turned me
Back to the me
You took without mercy,
Despite my desperate pleas.
But he held my hand and squeezed,
Told me I'm not a disease,
That it's safe now, I can come back to me.

"It's raining"

Instead, I came back to him,
Whoever I was when I was yours becoming a mere psuedonym.

"It's raining."

He brings me home from the other side,
Holding my hand through the longs nights,
While I learn to become our light.
He reminds me to stay alive,

It's raining.

It's raining out side.
It's raining and I'm stuck in here.
It's raining and I'm looking out the window.
It's raining and all I want is to see you.

It's raining out side.
It's raining and I'm alone.
It's raining and I'm watching the sky cry its saddened tears.
It's raining and all I want is to hear your voice.
see your face
feel your touch
baby all I want is you

It's Pouring Ova here, Its falling..
Just look at the rain you've allowed..
It's raining , it fills my room...
This rain inspires though its pouring lightly..
It increases gently..
You said you can feel it too.
The rain is growing flowers, in my room..
The grass grows with energy..
Pouring within me respectively..
Raining... I can still hear you saying.. its raining for you too.
Overwhelmingly....
abundantly.. fun while... dancing meaningfully.
Rain.. Raining excites destiny.. Pouring fully..
Spilling from my room...
Sunlight above the cloud as its pouring.. Blissfully..
So luxuriously. keep raining..Over me..

keep pouring..
keep falling sweetly..
Raining.. Inside.. Raining outside.. Love reigns...Beautifully..

Such Rains...
a Good thang..

SelinaSharday_H.E.R#POETRY 2022......S.A.M

Part 1

She's just like me
she sprinkles Grace
she's my sis and friend
she's my reflection and shadow
she's my sweetie
her name is Madison Grace
she sprinkles in the most purest ways
she sprinkles peace for everything about her is peaceful
she sprinkles sunshine for those who are in darkness
she sprinkles joy for those that live in sorrow
she sprinkles life for those that think about death
she sprinkles happiness because that is what she is
she showers hope for those that never knew it
I love her a lot
we're the best sisters ever
she is my fairy of the enchanted forests which are beautiful as she is
she helps people that need help
I love her
everybody does
two girls playing in the sunshine all day
wading in the cool stream
splashing water on each other
laughing ringing through the mountains
up the hillside
through the valley full of flowers which we pick and inhale their sweet perfume
through the dale
giggles and smiles so bright
shining sunshine and sunrays in people's life
we're those sisters
we love each other and always will
love forever
love eternal
love forever burning bright
love undying
raining sun
raining peace
raining joy
raining love
raining life
raining hope
raining sweetness
raining blessings
raining pure friendship
sun so bright
shining through life


*~Marian~

It's been raining since you left
It has never stopped at all
And I've never stopped thinking about
The day it started to fall

It's been raining since you left, dear
I miss when the sun used to shine
Every day was bright then and
On my lips there was a smile

It's been raining since you left me
Some days it drizzles, some it pours
But each day it's all the same
I miss you more and more

It's been raining since you left and
I miss your arms around my heart
Now it's cold and unforgiving
And I'm shivering in the dark

It's been raining since you left, love
Oh your warmth proved way too much
You bent, scarred and burnt me
Yet I'm ice cold to the touch

It's been raining since you left though
I try and try to see the sun
Not even a single ray of light
Have I ever come upon

It's been raining since you left oh
Will I ever find my way?
The rain falling, falling to the ground
Is all I see these days

It's been raining since you left but
The fire in my heart remains
Blazing, raging, flaming
Against the downpour of the rain

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
i’m cold,
and my shaking fingers are
shooting missiles toward you from
fifteen miles away.
texting is the worst form of communication.

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
can’t you ever answer the
******* phone when i call you?
do you even love me? do you
care that i’m in pain?
do you care that i’m waiting here,
alone, cold,
while you have your car and
some other ***** snuggled up under your arm?

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
what am i supposed to do,
leave you when you say you don’t care about me?
others have told me that i’m resilient
and i don’t want to make liars out of my friends.
i can take this. i can take this.
i’m not afraid of pain.
keep hurting me. tell me to **** myself
and i’ll kiss your calloused fingers
and worship you like nothing else.
i am on my knees
and the lentils you had me kneel on
are beginning to cut through my skin.
baby? do we still call each other,
baby?

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
do you remember that morning
when you called me a fat ******* *****
because i spilled coffee all over the kitchen floor?
do you? because i do.
and i would crawl through the coffee and the
scattered glass like a dead man does through hell,
trying to get to something better
but knowing they never will.

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
i am not crazy.
well, i am crazy.
but i’m not crazy here.
here, i need you to hear me.
don’t just say you do-
actually do it.
pull my heart out and look how it
pulsates with love.
every beat was made for you
and you just won’t look.
you won’t listen.

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
i have put my hands
through blazing fire to
soothe your enormous ego
and you can’t pick me up
from the ******* bus stop.
****! what’s a girl got to do
to find a man that will
lick her wounds and devour
her fears? am i not worthy of love?
should i just **** myself?

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
i’m a mistake. i am unlovable.
i am a ruined being left alone by God to
suffer in this hell we call life.
everything he says about me is right.
i’m difficult. i cry too much. i’m too depressed.
i’m crazy. i’m crazy. i’m crazy.

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
what was i thinking?
i don’t need a man. i don’t need anyone!
i am more godly than anything up in the sky
or beneath the earth!
i am the vacuum of space
and i’ll suffocate those who think
i’m anything less than perfect.
why won’t he pick up
the ******* phone?

the bus is coming
and it’s raining outside.
i check my phone.
it’s 7:11pm.
the bus isn’t coming.
i don’t think it ever was.

It's raining.
And people are dying.
Somewhere. Everywhere.
Nowhere. On television.
And I don't care.
And their life is static
stuck in the waistband
of some dude's underwear.
And he scratches his *****.
He's shocked and ****.
He calls himself a "God".
He sent his son to die
as a guilt trip
and to spike book sales.
But he's scratching his *****.
And his wrist brushes
against his waistband.
He's pinched by the shock
of electic death.

It's raining.
I'm sitting on the edge
of my bed.
Closing my eyes
and pretending
my feet are hanging off
a shopping cart.
My parents are pushing me
and I'm facing my mother.
She looks young enough
to avoid
   every thing.

I don't care. I don't care.
There are snares
  hitting the cymbals.
And there's
a jazz musician. He's
nodding his
   head
back and
   forth.
   Back
and forth.

I don't care. I don't care.

It's raining.
And we zoom in on God.
And, clearly, I have a vendetta.
Have I been subtle?
He answers, "No."
Did I meet a jazz musician?
He shrugs, "Yeah, I guess."
And the room slows down
to a jumbled vibration.
And he smiles. Smiling.
Smiley-smile smiles.
There is no ******
like the second hand.

It's raining.
I don't care. I don't ******* care.
My dad yelling.
You have daddy issues!!
You ******* *****!!
And the room slows down
to a jumbled vibration.
What's true is a tumor
and it grows and grows.

It's raining.
Music is the shout
in a raindrop.
The wrists we forfeit
is the church of
an eternal solitude.
And we is I
and the mixture of
animal-speak
that swallows my
   brain.

It's raining.
There are joggers
in the park.
Their feet are smashing
the cement.
Slow down.
They don't care.

Then seven billion
joggers enter the park
and smash the cement.
My family is unearthed:
the swallowed inertia
of an undying thought.

It's raining.

It's raining again
A lone soul with no friends
It's raining again
Living a life with no ends
It's raining again
The sun never descends
It's raining again
It's raining again

Honey, it’s raining,
From the skies,
Big shiny drops,
Heavy
Make a loud plop
As they drop
I gaze out the window
My special one,
That I use
For time travel
This time,
I go back
25 years

Honey, it’s raining,
From your eyes,
Big salty drops,
Heavy
Make a loud plop
As they drop
Right on my heart
I hold you close
They disperse
Equally
On both of us
Mingling with the rain
Leaving a stain
So Indelible
Several washes
Couldn’t remove

Time erodes
Mighty rocks,
Changes courses
Of Mighty rivers,
We were destined
To hear
Each other
Speak again
Across
A chasm
Half way across
Our new world
To find
The stain erupt
A dormant volcano
Time could not silence
It’s raging in my ears,

Honey it’s raining,
From both our eyes,
Big sweet drops,
As we meet
At this time warp
Just lean across
Touch me
With Your hands
Your lips
Your eyes
Wipe my stain
Even as I wipe yours
With our memories
Same old Stories
Growing kids,
Spouses
Is it better
To have loved and lost
Than to have never loved at all?

Honey, it’s raining,
From the heavens,
Great big morsels,
Manna
That Soaks
Two hungry souls,
Eyes skyward
Open wide
With gratitude,
Silent in awe
Thanks lord,
Harsh thorny gates
Melt into vapor
We hold hands
Our spirits mingle
Bodies merge
Undistinguishable
Two rivulets
Turn to single
Silver Shard of ice,
Head bent
In thankful prayer

you asked me to come:it was raining a little,
and the spring;a clumsy brightness of air
wonderfully stumbled above the square,
little amorous-tadpole people wiggled

battered by stuttering pearl,
                                leaves jiggled
to the jigging fragrance of newness
—and then.  My crazy fingers liked your dress
….your kiss,your kiss was a distinct brittle

flower,and the flesh crisp set
my love-tooth on edge.  So until light
each having each we promised to forget—

wherefore is there nothing left to guess:
the cheap intelligent thighs,the electric trite
thighs;the hair stupidly priceless.

You know it's been raining, it´s been raining for ages
We have been stuck here while the world has been going places
You know we've been failing, we've been failing a century
We have been stuck here while the world has been free

We talked about it away from the storm
Away from the raindrops so we could keep each other warm
You´ve been wanting to leave, but now you won´t go
Don't ask me to stay now that I can only say no

For hours into the night I listened to your voice
In the peace and silence we felt like there was a choice
You´ve been wanting something more, I hear it in your tone
Don't ask me for it when it's something I do not own

You know it's been raining, it´s been raining for ages
We have been stuck here to dry tears of our faces
I will walk with you outside and down the road until its end
Soaked to the skin under the open sky, I don't think I´ll be warm again

He would’ve explained how it was still raining,
near dusk one evening, the sky a bright shimmering pink.
The fog made things seem hollow and unattached,
his life was still a constellation of possibilities.
You could let your hair grow, he said.
Some things you can feel.

He would’ve explained how it was still raining,
leaning forward, head down,
wading across the field to the river
and then turning and wading back.

He would’ve explained how it was still raining
as the sky went from pink to purple,
across that dotted line between two different worlds,
a place where your life exists before you’ve lived it.
The vapors **** you in.

He would’ve explained how it was still raining;
he should’ve taken one look and headed for higher ground.
The rain was the war and you had to fight it,
no time for sorting through options, no thinking at all.
He remembered trying to crawl towards the screaming,
and the bright pink sky, and the war, and courage.
You come over clean and you get *****.
He was part of the waste.

Outside, a soft violet light was spreading out across the eastern hillsides.

It was raining
One night
In a little girls heart
The torrent inconsolable
The storm did thunder part

It was raining
One night
And she didn't
Want it to stop
She liked the feel
Of the drops on her skin
When she began to sob

It was raining
One night
The water kept flowing
Down the cliff of her nose
Tides gently brewing

It was raining
One night
And you brought
A coat
And I'm still
The same little girl
Whom you saved
When she needed you
The most

by God, I don't know what to
do.
they're so nice to have around.
they have a way of playing with
the *****
and looking at the **** very
seriously
turning it
tweeking it
examining each part
as their long hair falls on
your belly.
it's not the ******* and *******
alone that reaches into a man
and softens him, it's the extras,
it's all the extras.
now it's raining tonight
and there's nobody
they are elsewhere
examining things
in new bedrooms
in new moods
or maybe in old
bedrooms.
anyhow, it's raining tonight,
on hell of a dashing, pouring
rain....
very little to do.
I've read the newspaper
paid the gas bill
the electric co.
the phone bill.
it keeps raining.
they soften a man
and then let him swim
in his own juice.
I need an old-fashioned *****
at the door tonight
closing her green umbrella,
drops her green umbrella,
drops of moonlit rain on her
purse, saying "****, man,
can't you get better music
than that on your radio?
and turn up the heat..."
it's always when a man's swollen
with love and everything
else
that keeps raining
splattering
flooding
rain
good for the trees and the
grass and the air...
good for things that
live alone.
I would give anything
for a female's hand on me
tonight.
they soften a man and
then leave him
listening to the rain.

(via phatphilosophers)

(via phatphilosophers)

(via phatphilosophers)
jeffrey-lebowski:

Untitled by Yayoi Kusama.
Acrylic on canvas, 45.5 x 38.0 cm. Signed and dated 1993
jeffrey-lebowski:
Untitled by Yayoi Kusama.
Acrylic on canvas, 45.5 x 38.0 cm. Signed and dated 1993
(via phatphilosophers)
“
These are the days that must happen to you.
Walt Whitman, from Leaves Of Grass (via violentwavesofemotion)
(via phatphilosophers)
18 HOURS AGO / LARMOYANTE
axiatonal:

Canola Flowers Field, China
axiatonal:
Canola Flowers Field, China
(via awaveofbliss)

(via awaveofbliss)

whatisadvertising:
What would modern technology and social networks look like if they were vintage ads
This is a post gathered Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, Skype, iMac, Nintendo Wii and Sony Playstation as if they were vintage ads.
(via thebronxisburning)
aplacetofindlife:

Someone Should Start Laughing
I have a thousand brilliant lies For the question: How are you?  I have a thousand brilliant lies For the question: What is God? If you think that the Truth can be known From words, If you think that the Sun and the Ocean Can pass through that tiny opening Called the mouth,
O someone should start laughing! Someone should start wildly Laughing Now!- Hafiz
aplacetofindlife:
Someone Should Start Laughing

I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:
How are you?

I have a thousand brilliant lies
For the question:
What is God?

If you think that the Truth can be known
From words,

If you think that the Sun and the Ocean
Can pass through that tiny opening Called the mouth,

O someone should start laughing!
Someone should start wildly Laughing Now!

- Hafiz
(via cosmic-rebirth)

meditationsinwonderland:
Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche, We Should All Be Feminists
How could I not reblog this?
(Source: bakongo)
1 day ago – 234,004 notes

artismyempire:
gentledom:
A wonderful analogy.
What I shall do today.
(Source: boyqueen, via thebronxisburning)
1 day ago – 30,054 notes

(Source: maryhadalittleblunt, via awaveofbliss)
1 week ago – 81 notes
beachsloth:

SYNESTHESIA by Joshua Espinoza
                God watches everyone’s first kiss. Although God used to be an awesome God He’s been a bit lazier as the years have progressed. Long ago God felt that raining frogs on Egypt was cool. People were turned into pillars of salt for looking at the destruction of their towns. Now God isn’t into that whole vengeful thing. Rather He realizes the importance of free will and understands it is more important than any instruction manual.
                Dreams are the ultimate instructional manual. Sub-conscious hates being a sub. Sub-conscious wants to be dom-conscious. Unfortunately such things do not happen anymore. Drinking dreams from people is potentially delicious. Flab is the hallmark of a family man or woman. Their dreams have become realities. Mere impulses of creatures become vaguely self-sustaining then fully self-sustaining. Right in the heart is where the familial love lives. Floaters in the eyes are more than floaters. When one sees floaters they see ghosts. Floaters are ghosts for the vision-impaired.
                Afterlife is big into God. Death brings people closer to God. They live in God’s domain hoping for the best. From on high the angels live on the down low. Beneath angels are the exciting ones, the ones they can and do mess up. Humans are interesting for their ability to mess up all the time and somehow remain completely loved. Every human is made in God’s image. Once people come back to God they realize how much of their decisions were good, how the evil was more than counterbalanced by the good. Living in Earth tends to make people forget how fortunate they really are.
                The world hates leaving people behind. In Heaven everything is fine. From Heaven people can see themselves from light-years away. Such distance makes it easier to see what the right and wrong decision was. Death takes the people away. Online presences remain long after the body has left. Everything has a digital footprint entirely different from their real life footprint. Sometimes it is bigger and sometimes smaller. It depends on the lust for life.
                Kissing is a form of lust. Lips love each other. Lips like locking together. That is where the key to the heart comes from, from the lips. Words flow from the mouths of babes. Life means the words work well but the tones work better. Even babies understand the importance of tone. Words are meaningless. Tones are tender. People wrap themselves up in tones, in the environmental sounds that surround them for that is what it means to be alive: it means to interact.
beachsloth:
SYNESTHESIA by Joshua Espinoza
                God watches everyone’s first kiss. Although God used to be an awesome God He’s been a bit lazier as the years have progressed. Long ago God felt that raining frogs on Egypt was cool. People were turned into pillars of salt for looking at the destruction of their towns. Now God isn’t into that whole vengeful thing. Rather He realizes the importance of free will and understands it is more important than any instruction manual.
                Dreams are the ultimate instructional manual. Sub-conscious hates being a sub. Sub-conscious wants to be dom-conscious. Unfortunately such things do not happen anymore. Drinking dreams from people is potentially delicious. Flab is the hallmark of a family man or woman. Their dreams have become realities. Mere impulses of creatures become vaguely self-sustaining then fully self-sustaining. Right in the heart is where the familial love lives. Floaters in the eyes are more than floaters. When one sees floaters they see ghosts. Floaters are ghosts for the vision-impaired.
                Afterlife is big into God. Death brings people closer to God. They live in God’s domain hoping for the best. From on high the angels live on the down low. Beneath angels are the exciting ones, the ones they can and do mess up. Humans are interesting for their ability to mess up all the time and somehow remain completely loved. Every human is made in God’s image. Once people come back to God they realize how much of their decisions were good, how the evil was more than counterbalanced by the good. Living in Earth tends to make people forget how fortunate they really are.
                The world hates leaving people behind. In Heaven everything is fine. From Heaven people can see themselves from light-years away. Such distance makes it easier to see what the right and wrong decision was. Death takes the people away. Online presences remain long after the body has left. Everything has a digital footprint entirely different from their real life footprint. Sometimes it is bigger and sometimes smaller. It depends on the lust for life.
                Kissing is a form of lust. Lips love each other. Lips like locking together. That is where the key to the heart comes from, from the lips. Words flow from the mouths of babes. Life means the words work well but the tones work better. Even babies understand the importance of tone. Words are meaningless. Tones are tender. People wrap themselves up in tones, in the environmental sounds that surround them for that is what it means to be alive: it means to interact.
(via bluishtigers)
1 week ago – 74 notes

(Source: samsaranmusing)
1 week ago – 78 notes
maymonsturr:

My mantra.
maymonsturr:
My mantra.
(via cosmic-rebirth)
1 week ago – 568 notes
foxxxynegrodamus:

***
foxxxynegrodamus:
***
(Source: lnpfeed, via awaveofbliss)
1 week ago – 1,635 notes
cosmic-rebirth:

Live joyfully, make your life a dance, all the way to the grave.
cosmic-rebirth:
Live joyfully, make your life a dance, all the way to the grave.
(Source: cookiecarnival)
2 weeks ago – 22,305 notes
“The point is not to pay back kindness but to pass it on.”
– Julia Alvarez (via cosmic-rebirth)
(Source: amandaonwriting, via cosmic-rebirth)
2 weeks ago – 275 notes

(Source: diawf, via awaveofbliss)
2 weeks ago – 2,799 notes
bl4ckhippie:

Fly.
bl4ckhippie:
Fly.
(Source: rootsrukkus, via awaveofbliss)
2 weeks ago – 750 notes

(Source: lizzlizzcomics, via bluishtigers)
2 weeks ago – 110,456 notes
meditationsinwonderland:

ॐ flower child in Wonderland ॐ
meditationsinwonderland:
ॐ flower child in Wonderland ॐ
(Source: vegan-hippie)
2 weeks ago – 139,177 notes

(Source: jrich103, via cosmic-rebirth)
2 weeks ago – 4,848 notes

pleoros:
Helminadia Ranford - Guilin,China
(via hungryforworld)
2 weeks ago – 329 notes
designgather:

Oak Room
Andy Goldsworthy
designgather:
Oak Room
Andy Goldsworthy
(via cosmic-rebirth)
2 weeks ago – 286 notes
miguu:
don’t be afraid.
lean into your genius.
let your own brilliance support you.
you are something
we have all been waiting to know.
please.
(via bluishtigers)
2 weeks ago – 339 notes

odditiesoflife:
Amazing Jabuticaba Tree
This is an incredible tree that bears its fruit directly on the main trunks and branches of the plant, lending a distinctive appearance to the fruiting tree. The jabuticaba (Plinia cauliflora) is a fruit-bearing tree native to Minas Gerais and São Paulo in southeastern Brazil. Otherwise known as the Brazilian Grape Tree, the jabuticaba is grown for its purplish-black, white-pulped fruits. They can be eaten raw or be used to make jellies and drinks, including juice and wine.
They are wonderful trees to have and are fairly adaptable to most environments but they grow extremely slow. Jabuticaba flowers are white and grow directly from its trunk, just like its fruit. The tree may flower and fruit only once or twice a year, but when continuously irrigated, it flowers frequently and fresh fruit can be available year round in tropical regions.
Common in Brazilian markets, jabuticabas are largely eaten fresh; their popularity has been likened to that of grapes in the US. Due to its extremely short shelf-life, fresh jabuticaba fruit is very rare in markets outside of areas of cultivation. So if you are ever in Brazil, be sure to try the incredibly tasty fruit called jabuticaba.
source 1, 2
(via hungryforworld)
2 weeks ago – 1,462 notes

(Source: samsaranmusing)
2 weeks ago – 118 notes

(Source: rorycwhatsyourthesis, via samsaranmusing)
2 weeks ago – 130,113 notes
oecologia:

Star Trails over Matterhorn (Switzerland) by Felix Lamouroux.
oecologia:
Star Trails over Matterhorn (Switzerland) by Felix Lamouroux.
(via samsaranmusing)

burningveins:
multicolors:
benskid:
Know where you stand.
Wow
This is kinda creepy..
(via hungryforworld)
“
Do not think you will necessarily be aware of your own enlightenment.
Zen Master Dogen - (1200- 1253) AD (via samsaranmusing)
2 WEEKS AGO
101fuymemes:

COLLECTION OF awesome CLOUDS
101fuymemes:
COLLECTION OF awesome CLOUDS
(via roslynoberholtzerbddd)

itscolossal:
Planetary Structural Layer Cakes Designed by Cakecrumbs
“
Do not resist events that move you out of your comfort zone, especially when your comfort zone was not all that comfortable.
Alan Cohen (via raeraenjma)
(via awaveofbliss)
4 WEEKS AGO / THE-HEALING-NEST
so apt
so apt
(via awaveofbliss)

(via awaveofbliss)
treewellie:

"The area between Kluane Lake and Haines Junction, Yukon, skirting the great cordillera of the Wrangell / St. Elias Mtn. range, is commonly productive of these stacked lenticular clouds … In late summer, as the sun begins to set around 11 PM, it’s beautiful to see these unique clouds, which are higher in altitude than their surrounding companions, catching the last peach coloured rays of the sun."
treewellie:
"The area between Kluane Lake and Haines Junction, Yukon, skirting the great cordillera of the Wrangell / St. Elias Mtn. range, is commonly productive of these stacked lenticular clouds … In late summer, as the sun begins to set around 11 PM, it’s beautiful to see these unique clouds, which are higher in altitude than their surrounding companions, catching the last peach coloured rays of the sun."
definitelydope:

BBQ on the balcony (by fernlicht)
definitelydope:
BBQ on the balcony (by fernlicht)
(via awaveofbliss)

Birth by Alex Grey
Birth by Alex Grey
(via receptive)

(via bluishtigers)

(via awaveofbliss)
“
There is a time and place for decaf coffee. Never and in the trash.
(via 17yr)
(via hungryforworld)
1 MONTH AGO / MIDWESTRAISEDMIDWESTLIVING
surreelust:

Man with His Skin by Peter Zokosky
surreelust:
Man with His Skin by Peter Zokosky
(via cosmic-rebirth)
“
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You have seen your own strength.
You have seen your own beauty.
You have seen your golden wings.
Of anything less,
why do you worry?
You are in truth
the soul, of the soul,
of the soul.
Rumi, from Who Am I?   (via bluishtigers)
(via bluishtigers)
1 MONTH AGO / VIOLENTWAVESOFEMOTION
xpudding:

xpudding:
(via cosmic-rebirth)

(via thebronxisburning)

(via cosmic-rebirth)
treewellie:

La costa de la luz by Francisco Mingorance
treewellie:
La costa de la luz by Francisco Mingorance

itscolossal:
Mirror City: A Kaleidoscopic Timelapse of Chicago, San Francisco, San Diego, Vegas and L.A. [VIDEO]

(via cosmic-rebirth)

awkwardsituationist:
gmb akash documents the 350 kilometre journey from dhaka to sylhet, bangladesh made by those who, unable to afford the price of a ticket or find room to ride inside, risk death by traveling atop and between train cars
(via suntochukwu)
purpleaggregates:

White Tara The female enlightened being of long life, wisdom and good fortune When I see the signs of untimely death, May I immediately receive the blessings of Arya Tara; And, having destroyed the Lord of Death, May I quickly attain the deathless vajra body. OM TARE TUTTARE TURE MAMA AYUR PUNAYE GYANA PUTRIM KURU YE SÖHA OM TARE TUTTARE TURE SÖHA
purpleaggregates:
White Tara
The female enlightened being of long life, wisdom and good fortune

When I see the signs of untimely death,
May I immediately receive the blessings of Arya Tara;
And, having destroyed the Lord of Death,
May I quickly attain the deathless vajra body.

OM TARE TUTTARE TURE MAMA AYUR PUNAYE GYANA PUTRIM KURU YE SÖHA
OM TARE TUTTARE TURE SÖHA
(via dancingdakini)

(via guerrillatech)
hungryforworld:

Monet’s Garden. Givery, France.
hungryforworld:
Monet’s Garden. Givery, France.

(via awaveofbliss)

(via cosmic-rebirth)
“
Internal and external are ultimately one. When you no longer perceive the world as hostile, there is no more fear, and when there is no more fear, you think, speak and act differently. Love and compassion arise, and they affect the world.
Eckhart Tolle (via samsaranmusing)
(via suntochukwu)
1 MONTH AGO / SAMSARANMUSING
malformalady:

The golden spiral of fungus. In geometry, a golden spiral is a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor is φ, the golden ratio. That is, a golden spiral gets wider (or further from its origin) by a factor of φ for every quarter turn it makes.
Photo credit: Devin Raber
malformalady:
The golden spiral of fungus. In geometry, a golden spiral is a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor is φ, the golden ratio. That is, a golden spiral gets wider (or further from its origin) by a factor of φ for every quarter turn it makes.
Photo credit: Devin Raber
(via deeperthansoul)
polaroidsf:

Welcome to Eden
polaroidsf:
Welcome to Eden

(via bouddra)
“
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of
meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for
your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me

I always feel sentimental when it rains,
So, on sad days like this I leave the house without an umbrella.

With my headphones in,
listening to our favourite songs,
I walk past your old house.
Or the cheap restaurant we always went to.
Just so I can let my heart feel close to you again.
I must be so pathetic.

but when the rain stops
You will exist only as another memory.
So, I embrace the droplets on my skin,
Even if I do catch a cold.

On sad days like this I cannot help but wonder
if it’s raining where you are,
if you think of me.

So, until the next time it rains, we walk our own paths.

why I love certain men


it’s a raining and writing Saturday,
a washout for the beach visitors who chose their
calendar lottery tickets poorly

but hurrah and huzzah for the poet
in the no-sun-today-room with
steam collecting on his face from his 20 oz. Canadian mug,
the rest of him cozied neath a
wooly mohair knitted and tasseled blanket,
from a now naked and shivering alpaca goat in Turkey or Tibet

perhaps we’ll make a tiny dent
in the 1319 poems,
in the ‘sorta started to do’ list

****.
new one sneaks in demanding immediate satisfaction
and threatening my mind’s incarceration unless,
serviced and unleashed as the Frenchies say

Frites, immédiatement!: (french fries, now!)

I love most men; certain men more than others,
not because they are soft to the touch,
look great in thigh highs, can fix a backhoe,
lay hands on animals, just as they do upon their grandchildren,
or write better poetry than me,
because
they make me weep from zealous delight at
their capricious unprecedented constancy of their
honorable actions

they are soft to the core, which is itself
wrapped in a leather soldered steel,
which defines them by their self-questing constant,
asking themselves preface and postface,
doing it well, in between,

what is the honorable thing?

this honor idea of which writ previous
doesn’t dissolve - indeed grows crescendo stronger,
like the miracle of the Yom Kippurs rams horn
crying out to heavens at the concluding end  
on the holiest judgement day,
a shofar miracle for it inhumanly grows ever louder,
ceasing only when nightfall marks a new day begun,
reminding both sinners and saviour each,
to inquire of their colluding selves on this forgiveness-giving day,

what is the honorable thing?

some are borrowers and some lenders,
of anything, the substance or the whom matters not,
but the bonding bonfire from which the deal is done,
is of a uncharted organic chemical matter unrecognized
but millennium ancient


here I stop

the call to breakfast must be obeyed,
for it’s with lovely made, menu man-poet requested,
this is too an honorable thing to do,
and the 1319 half blood~half writs poking my eyes,
can be faced with new courage afterwards
on a perfect raining and writing Summer Saturday
for the next one hopefully and woefully

may not come till the September (Rosh Hashanah/Jewish New Year) when acorns fall

certain men will greet that fall Sabbath/ New Years Day,  
when Atonement begins, a ten day process to the final conclusion,
by asking of everything living and of every act human performed,
for the forgiveness requested inherent in the absolute bar setting of

what is the honorable thing?

which by the by,

is why I love certain women too...

and all who are honorable
will read this honorific and remain
clueless as to whom it is addressed...

oh god, I do so love that best!

what could signal honor even more...

So I've been talking to a few nice people on the internet. We had casual small talks. What's your name? How old are you? Where do you live? I've been telling you that they annoy me, but they keep me company. Some of them are English, one is French. I've been learning languages including French, by the way. You've just been so busy, too busy.

Where do you live? And I can't help but think of how you wanted me to take you home that night but it was so late and we were in our uniforms and I needed to go home; I declined. I let go of your hand, your tiny hand (calling it tiny makes you frown, and you're cute when you frown). I let go of those hands that could only fit with mine. That night... That night, up there, where we watched the sun take its last dreadful glimpse on us. That beautiful night when we felt the wind turn from hot and sticky to warm and nice. That night when you took a mental picture of me laughing. You told me that that night was enough to make you happy for the rest of your short life. You said you are almost certain that you would leave me first. You said that the last one who will die would grow old and visit that same place and cry. That night... That night, up there, you asked me once to not let it end. But it did. I live there.

How old are you? It was raining. It was pouring, so **** hard. Was there a storm signal, I'll never know. I didn't care. I used to sit by the windows and count every raindrop. There was a moment in my life where I thought that playing while it is raining is childish but dancing in the rain is adult stuff. I used to imagine how couples kiss under their umbrellas and how it is possible to forget that they have umbrellas. I used to picture it in my small, childish and immature head that I will someday, hopefully, have someone who could be silly with me. The adult type of silly. It was raining. It was raining so hard. But your hands were light and you were a feather. Gliding with me through the courses of those strong winds. Your hands were in my hands and I finally know why men feel like they could conquer the world all by themselves. We were laughing, like those lovers in the movie under the streetlights. And we were holding hands. You were pulling me and you were holding my hands and we were running and it was raining and I lost track of how many raindrops have poured now because I think it's not raining anymore but I do know that you're still smiling giddily like we did something that is only ours to know and I think I have seen my rainbow and it's running and it's pulling my hand towards our silver lining and it's so ******* beautiful. It's so ******* beautiful. It was magnificent. And I didn't realize, I didn't realize this until that moment --- that astounding, outstanding, amazing, tragamagazingzing --- that marvelous, marvelous moment: I was childishly, hopelessly, truly, madly deeply falling in love with you (yes! like that song! from that silly old movie!). I was falling in love with you over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over --- That was a lot of raindrops. I was sixteen.

What's your name? Oh god. Oh ****. Oh god. Oh ****. ****. ****. ****. ****, ****, ****, ****. What do I say? I could tell you a lot of things but all I do is listen to country songs and go to that country singer's concerts... Oh well that was lame. Was that lame? Did I really say that out loud? I think I did. I don't think I look like your best friend though. I'm usually quiet. Yes, I have a scar on my face. Oh you don't like my name? Why so? Sure you can call me by my other name. I have a nickname, but only close people call me--- Okay. You can call me by my nickname. No, I don't know him. Am I really that quiet? He must be nice. Yeah I like brown eyes too but I'm trying to seek other colors now. Oh that's why you don't like my name. I'm sorry, but I promise you that's not how love works. I met this person once and she was my heaven and hell. But yeah, you know, I wasn't enough. Nah, you don't have to tell me that. She already made me feel like ****, anyway. It's okay. Ah, yes I write. Do you want to see? It's okay, but I don't really like showing these to people. I showed it to that guy though. He's really nice. Yeah you can read them. I write random stuff. Alright, I'll see you later. Good morning to you too! Hello. You seem a bit off. How are you? You okay? I don't believe you. Define okay? Oh you have a nice smile. I guess it's okay, dimples aren't that cute to me. I've had this scar since I was in prep-school. I didn't really notice those freckles before, but thanks. Oops, hey careful there. Oh sorry I held your waist. It's okay. Are you okay? Define okay? Alright, laters. You're really cute when you smile (and I swear I could hear my heart flutter when you say metaphorical things.) Wait what? Did I really just say that out loud? Oh thank God. Wait, no. Oh. ****. ****, ****, ****, ****. Let me write this down. Let me write about this. Uh. Sure. You can read it. I won't mind. Okay maybe read it later when you're at home. Yes that's a better idea. Read it at home. When I am not there to watch your reaction and probably make a fool out of myself. Hi. Good morning to you too. I know. Yes that's what I said. Hello. Was it weird? I know. Yes, sweetheart, that was for you. You said that already. Hi again. I'm okay. I'm yours.

I wish we could have our casual small talks again. I guess I'll never be too busy to remind myself, and to remind you, that you are missing from me.

It's raining outside
and
These beautiful things
shining through my tears
will feel the drops
but never know my fears
how could they if I don't?

Rain drops
Falling from the trees
into the sky
and you never ask why
ignore the dots in the sky
they're not there

Rain  falls
on tattooed tough guys
littering sidewalks with spit
say they're trying to quit
cigs for the sixth time
and he's tired of lie
tied together to hide
his head when he cries
from better eyes

It's raining outside
Slight stirrings before sunrise
split seconds of conscientiousness
before slipping into a sea of dreams
I always have the most vivid dreams
while the sun is rising

It's raining outside
but not in here
not in my head
not in my bed

That pure innocent smile,
Your childish face and that side profile,
Your silky hair and that perfect hairstyle,
Would never forget you.
**** I miss you!

The touch of your smooth skin,
That beautiful little chin,
Your blushy cheeks and that grin,
Still I adore you.
**** I miss you!

Those big dope eyes,
That Stupid nose ,
Those size 7 feet and pinky toes.
Your medications and Ayurvedic dose.
Wish again to feel you.
**** I miss you!

Baby I still remember,
that freezy December,
The day we fell off the scooter,
Your stupid buggy computer.
Our first date and the perfect kiss,
That raining night we spent in balcony
When you burnt the toast and macrony,
That birthday card you made me,
Helping in projects and assignments,
You taking care when I got sick,
I recall all those perfect memories of you,
still there's a place for you,
**** I miss you!

I wish you would have waited,
I would have come back,
But I can't blame you,
It was me who needed the space,
The fault is my OWN!
So I am the one left ALONE! :'(

Tomorrow came,
And it kept on raining.

I thought I saw the soft edges of the clouds part
I thought I saw the sun pushing its way to the surface of the sky.
That day it seemed like we had moved forward.
We had pushed past—
We really could be storybook friends,
Hand in hand,
Forever.

Then tomorrow came
And the sun retreated.
The small slice of sunshine reverted back behind the clouds.
Dark,
Unforgiving,
And undercover.

It kept on raining.

The sun came out
With wispy clouds
That tickled at its face.
I wasn’t ignored
I wasn’t acknowledged.
We went from close
To comfortable
To something less
Than acquaintanceship.

The sun battled to keep its face shining,
But the clouds outnumbered the sun;
They turned dark and maroon,
They screamed through thunder
And thrashed through lightning.

The sun gave in
Beaten and defeated.
And the days just kept on raining.

I guess nothing matters now
Squealed the swine to the cow
Free fields of daffodils
Laughing their fate is sealed
I am a lot like them
See life but I'm fenced in
Just a taste of her skin
I fell in love again
Raining down, Raining down
RIP the Omega Wolf running the town
Raining down, Raining down
Bless the poor Beta Fish swimming around

it was raining on the sun.
it was raining on the sun
this sun had 13 moons

it was raining on the sun
at 3 am.
the sun had lost it's way
only to find it's Madness
13 moons. 13 oceans
13 oceans of god knows what ?
13 dead gods on 13 dead lawns
the sky had gone where skys get very, very lost
where dead worlds sing
in the sick pink *******
of a host of slaughtered angels
typhoons of awful
like clots of mindless rage
fed only violence and dominion
only sacred cows and baby teeth
and darkling blasphemy
come from the ruptured lungs
of Agony and Thorns

Only you.

only you would.

Only You

could.

**** a Unicorn.

Cover up the moon and the stars
A hurtful veil over my widening sky
A vengeful malicious intent
A never reason

It should be raining

Listen to the murmur in the crowd
The way the thunder grows louder
And the skies grow dimmer
As we await the storm

Cover up the sun
The clouds grow gray in anger
And the atmosphere becomes thick
And the land becomes dark

It should be raining

A ****** shroud
All that dream are disavowed
The thunder claps grow loud
The clouds are angry

Because they never could be the sun

It should be raining........

He poured the coffee
Into the cup
He put the milk
Into the cup of coffee
He put the sugar
Into the coffee with milk
With a small spoon
He churned
He drank the coffee
And he put down the cup
Without any word to me
He emptied the coffee with milk
And he put down the cup
Without any word to me
He lighted
One cigarette
He made circles
With the smoke
He shook off the ash
Into the ashtray
Without any word to me
Without any look at me
He got up
He put on
A hat on his head
He put on
A raincoat
Because it was raining
And he left
Into the rain
Without any word to me
Without any look at me
And I buried
My face in my hands
And I cried

It's the same day again, another Monday, everyday is Monday
Monday, its Monday. Monday again, its Monday
The rain is pouring and its Monday, I have to go to work
I'm stocking shelves on Monday and the rain is pouring
I see the blonde girl and I avoid her eyes because its Monday
Perhaps on Tuesday I'll smile at her but its Monday and its raining
I'm taking a cigarette break on Monday and its raining still
Now I'm buying painkillers because its Monday
and the rain seeps through my hood on Monday
Monday, its Monday. Monday again, its Monday
"Is the bus late?"
"Yes, probably because its Monday."
Solemn faces on Monday
Crying children on Monday
Jaded skies on Monday
Will the sun be shining on Friday?
Who knows, I only exist on Monday
and its raining again.

They call her Truck Stop Tessie
Out I-forty a ways.
Usually you can find her there
Most sunny days.
And even if it’s raining
I am sure if you tried
You still will find Tessie
At the café inside.

She calls herself a housewife
But that would be a lie
She doesn’t ever clean the place
She can’t cook a pie.
She only gets dressed up
To go out on the town.
She a big old mess unless
She’s messing around.

They call her Truck Stop Tessie
Out I-forty a ways.
Usually you can find her there
Most sunny days.
And even if it’s raining
I am sure if you tried
You still will find Tessie
At the café inside.

She’s an old fashioned ******
In a new-fangled dress.
She makes out she’s a lady
But she’s a bit of a mess.
She dropped out of high school
To ride in boy’s cars.
If they make a round-heel movie
She could be the big star.

They call her Truck Stop Tessie
Out I-forty a ways.
Usually you can find her there
Most sunny days.
And even if it’s raining
I am sure if you tried
You still will find Tessie
At the café inside.

She was going with another guy
When it all started out.
He wouldn’t take her dancing
So she started to pout.
Then, he slapped her face a bit,
I stepped in to defend.
I probably should slap myself
Make this nightmare end.

They call her Truck Stop Tessie
Out I-forty a ways.
Usually you can find her there
Most sunny days.
And even if it’s raining
I am sure if you tried
You still will find Tessie
At the café inside.

It’s raining,
And I wish you were here.
Because, and I know it’s cliché,
But I’m falling a lot harder
Than this rain, and dear,
It’s torrential here.
But these sheets of rain
Remind me of the sheets we share,
And I’d just as quickly
Wrap myself up in them
If I thought you were in there, too.
It’s 101° there.
But here it’s raining.
And I miss you.

Why can't i do anything right
Everything i do just causes a fight
I can't see anything i can do to help
When in the end, I'm fighting myself

It's raining needles in my head

Thoughts keep racing through my mind
Seems as though I've run out of time
I've run out of words to say
Cat's got my tongue for another day

It's raining needles in my head

I'll take the next train that's leaving town
Won't let myself bring anyone else down
I'll drop out of sight, I'll never be seen again
I'll ride these rails 'til the very end

It's raining needles in my head
I can't feel them when i'm dead

It’s raining
In this place that doesn’t rain
This place that’s made of dust
Rocky and bright
It’s raining
And I’m crying
The trees are being watered
As I am withering
Life is being given to death
Barren land
Empty scenes
And I’m dying
In the rain where it shouldn’t be raining
Rain that is not like home
Let me go home
The home that I left
The dungeon I escaped
Let me go back
I want to go back
Where pain made sense
Where rain was supposed to rain
Where tears were supposed to be shed
I want my mother to hug me while she screams
Bruises and bad dreams
I want my father to leave me while I weep
Unwilling to see
I want that pain
Anything over my vacant brain
I want to feel again
Anything
I was invisible
Forgettable
So completely free
My mind was mine
It wandered and it dreamed
Please
Put me out of this empty misery
Take me back home where nowhere feels safe
I want rain where there should be rain
Pain where there should be pain