Latest Posts by rococobean - Page 3
the impossible return
As far as animals to be afraid of, deer rank pretty low. From afar, a deer is harmless certainly. Docile, wide eyes, silent staring before they bound away. But if you’ve ever been up close, that likely means you’ve found one trapped. Wounded maybe. Only then will you realize what fear does to a prey animal. If you wander too near, the acrid smell of desperation and deadly will to live is pungent in each flare of its nostrils. Then all of a sudden that deer seems much bigger, and fiercer, and you really ought to back away, but your brain works slower than its instincts, and you’re about to discover that hooves are like rocks and like knives, and those legs are longer and your head is closer than you would ever like. And for a split second, you, apex predator, will understand prey-fear.
To all my darlings, and the ones I'll never know.
By @themararosa on twitter
Care in their caress
through pain pricked fingers.
Love in the weaving
of comings and goings
Pas de deux He was a mortician. She was a seamstress. They wove stories of coming and going. All the unanswered, the unclaimed, the unknown became secondary. There was a lot of rain across a parched earth and they only saw relief of the end of a dance. But one dance leads on to another and another. The joy is in the twists, the dips always righted.
Well that is my belief, so thank you for creating something so touching ❤️
"That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet." - Emily Dickinon - Not my belief honestly but it worked for the picture lol.
text version below (click on "keep reading")
Sanded by Kara
Daydreaming of the sea again Sitting on its sore shore Waves like a collar and chain Flowing with your tide As the moon nears the floor Devoted to its own time
April Prompts - 4/14 Smiling - @creativepromptsforwriting text version below (click on keep reading)
Smiling by Kara
I've a papercraft smile Pasted on with hotglue Cut with a technique Of perfected disarmament Hand stuck to my hilt At the ready yet shaking Then I met your smile You must've noticed the snips The jagged appearance of my mouth Caught up in the curl of your lips My body went still Ripped off the paper Learning I've forgotten How to smile
Perfect nightmare
Here they come into my perfect castle, eating up the walls of clay. Digging into it with teeth and muscle, making holes with sharpened nails. The dark night predators in shiny armor are coming deep inside of me. And now they're stealing all my power, taking everything I have to give. But it's their eyes that's magnetizing and their voices hypnotizing, I don't dare to wake up from this perfect nightmare
written by sadeast
Vintage wlw will forever own my heart. We have been here for ages, and we won’t leave.
shapelessflame on insta
The one picture I got of the eclipse was through clouds
The world may be in crisis, but the mulberries are ripe, and they taste just as good as ever.
The world may be in crisis, but the fireflies came out at dusk yesterday. And they will come out again tonight, and tomorrow, too.
The world may be in crisis. But today a breeze stirred my hair and cooled my face, and it eased the heat of the summer sun and I took a deep breath and I breathed.
The world may be in crisis, but a stranger smiled at me, and a dog found a good home, and a toddler told his baby sister he loved her.
The world may be in crisis, but the world still holds people who are working to heal it.
The world may be in crisis, but there is still a world. And the world contains us, the world contains love, the world contains beauty. And the mulberries are ripe.
There is still a world.
all of the sudden you’re twenty-nine, standing on the sidewalk barefoot before bed, and the crickets sound just like they did when you were seventeen, sleepless with the windows open. when you remember sadness ran through your body like a fever. nights you were so familiar with the dark—the kind you watched break into daylight around 5, and the kind of restless sinking that never quieted. you remember thinking long and hard through those unceasing nights, in the hidden journals written in your young handwriting, that you’d never live past 18. whether a goal or a prophecy, you weren’t sure, but something felt definite that this grief would be the thing to pull you under, if only hoping a small peace would follow.
the sidewalk is rough, but still warm under your feet. it’s been so long since you’ve thought about this; somehow both twelve years and a lifetime ago. the dog finishes sniffing around the trees and bounds back to you, a happy familiarity once he catches your eye. you’ll both go upstairs to the room you love and fall asleep, in the house you love and share with your best friend. tomorrow, you’ll spend the day laughing, fingers intertwined with your partner, in a loving relationship you’d have never imagined possible.
twelve years after. how easily you saw it over, and what friendships, trips and cross-country moves, published books, new talents, heartaches and bad hair cuts, gardens, and long indulgent breakfasts you’ve accomplished since. you forgot there was a time you couldn’t see yourself alive past eighteen. now, you can’t picture ever wanting to leave this.
Like a Darkness
Stitching wounds with words
the pain remains but we smile
and pretend the blood was always there,
.
Singing dirges forged from dogma
my breath is a stranger standing
on the back porch with screen door open
torn between the sunset and the silence
that waits in the shadows in the front room
because the trick is to learn how not to
hear feel hurt dream hope sing want need
the trick is to tell yourself that all of this
was what we wanted from the very start,
.
We live in a derelict wonderland
empty streets abandoned houses
cars rusting next to single wide trailers
boarded up stores the old school crumbling
more people but not here no not here
where rusted barbed wire remembers
but we don't
Ain't it strange?
TV antennas like ancient talismans
that failed their only task which was
to let the world in three channels at a time
and keep us all from losing ourselves
inside of someone else's dreams
in artificial worlds that fade
as soon as nobody watches,
.
Your favorite song is playing forever
a transmission eternally out of reach
turn your eyes up to the stars
they aren't there but aren't they beautiful?
If we're lucky someday somebody
will say the same of us
There are soft things in the world my child;
petals to soothe your thorn-scratched hands.
Warm houses, while the wind whips wild,
and friends who leap at your command.
enjoy my dog painting…
By Laura Gilpin
Someday will be better
One day you wake up and you live alone, even with two flatmates, and you buy your own groceries, when you can afford it, and you go to class and work and sometimes the gym. And you go to the doctor, and the dentist, and your therapist and your friend’s house, and you take the medicine that keeps you from killing yourself, and you get out in the sunshine and eat food that fills you and make barely enough money to stay alive anyway, and someday will be better, you know that, but someday isn’t today, and today your jaw is clenched and your thoughts are shrieks that hate your friends and someday will be better, but right now it’s all you can do to make ramen so you don’t have to use a knife because someday will be better and you better be around to see it, and your clenched jaw turns to gritted teeth and you can’t bring yourself to shower but damnit, you brush your teeth and think that someday will be better, and your gums bleed when you floss and you want to scream but you’ve been stopped up like a forgotten bottle of wine and you’re not sure you know how to anymore, and now you’ve been staring at your bleeding gums and the void in your gut aches and you --
collapse in bed.
You remember how to breathe.
Your heart is here. Your lungs are here. There is quiet between your thoughts.
You are here.
And someday will be better.
My shrine to Memento Mori by rococobean
Alphabet of pretty words
Ambivalent, Brine, Crone, Delinquent, Ever, Fervent, Gallant, Hollow, Iridescent, Jagged, Kalimba, Loom, Mosaic, Null, Opal, Petrichor, Quasi, Rescind, Solve, Timber, Undulate, Verdant, Wind, Xylitol, Yearn, Zonal
Santa Muerte, Our Lady of Holy Death
Rainbow with a Black Pen
Crimson flash of pain
rusty orange dried blood
golden sun on sidewalk,
edged by mossy mud.
Clear blue rolling tears;
I crumple to my knees.
Indigo grows twilight
and violet my grief.
First five years spent poor
Beaten, clawed by toxic stress.
A rough start, darling.
Gently I tuck another idea to rest in the mausoleum - an archived document, dead.
Melodramatic, I loudly intone that I had the best intentions to finish the work, and yet…
Damnit, it happened again.