❝ When they handed me
the instruments of my
was it by my doing
or theirs
that I submitted
and believed in my
own inadequacies?
These bars are made of
their words but I forged
and set them
myself. ❞
❝ I used to be afraid of meeting with beasts
but I dreamt too many stories where
Ariadnes loved their bull-brothers and
princesses took their dragons to heart
and now there is a desperation in me
for teeth and claws and anger.
Leave me in the maze stringless and
dazed and let the monster chew me up
and spit me out bloodied and hardened.
I will learn vengeance and I will learn
rage and I will be eaten up until I am
tough enough to face a world that would
keep me soft and helpless.
Let me not just meet with monsters
but let me love them also. ❞
Sunday, 6th of July with 1,347 notes
Poetry   poetry   my poetry  
❝ Which is sadder—the old grave, dilapidated and crumbling and forgotten? Or the new grave, fresh earth covered in bunches of flowers and the second date too recent to bear? ❞
Wednesday, 18th of June with 335 notes

grimm | e.h. 

Monday, 16th of June with 379 notes


Here is the twenty-first century:
A slack-jawed generation shuffling dim-witted
from fast food joint to nightclub and back again
beholden to the technology they clutch in
grubby hands and determinedly ignorant
no matter how far they went with their education.
Newspaper headlines keeping us up-to-date
on the latest Gen Y transgressions from selfies
to not spending enough money to drinking
too much.

Here is the twenty-first century:
Young people bottoming out.
No jobs, no money, no positive outlook.
Told to bankrupt themselves to get an education
then told an education is not enough to secure
them a job. Told they are entitled for wanting more
than the scraped-up leftovers of those who have gone before.
Trying to keep up faced with a media system determined
to keep them down.

Here is the twenty-first century:
Anger and apathy.

But here it is also:
Simmering, burning hope. The determination
to do better, to build more and destroy less
and to learn to listen to each other.
To stare down the advertisements that tell us
that our looks are lacking and to take selfies
at all hours of the day because beauty is a
human condition and we will not let it
be taken away from us anymore.

I am beautiful and you are beautiful
and we are beautiful and we are here
and loud and angry. WE ARE HERE
and you know what? An entire generation
bottoming out, that’s a dangerous thing.
The only way they’ve got left to go
is up.

Sunday, 8th of June with 204 notes
❝ We are wolf and fire and shades of sunset.
I have watched the sky bleed out over your hands
and kissed your sorry cheeks and the downward slope
that rounds off your mouth and four hours from the end
you swung your legs out of bed and found your shirt—
when they ask me what became of the first person
I got bold enough to love I’ll draw them
rising crescent moons and empty cloudy beaches;
talk about distant galaxies and looming constellations.
An entire universe inside your eyes and I
was not equipped to be even its smallest star. ❞
Thursday, 29th of May with 186 notes
my poetry  
❝ i know you don’t believe in fate
but i’ve got to tell you
that shaking your hand that first time
felt like the end refrain
of some grand cosmic blueprint.
i’m not trying to say we were always leading up to this
(except i can’t shake the feeling that we were) ❞
Sunday, 25th of May with 271 notes
my poetry   love  
❝ In 2014, we are exposed to roughly 3500 adverts a day. Someone out there is figuring out how they might start beaming ads
onto the Moon. The world spends half a trillion dollars a year selling us things we don’t need and didn’t know we were supposed to want. They say half the anxieties we are trained to feel today were cooked up by admen in the 1920s. On the list of the world’s top 100 economies there are more corporations than countries. The richest 200 companies make more combined than 80% of the world’s population. I guess I’m trying to say: please wake up. Wake up and wake me up with you. The world has tried to teach us that we are worth nothing without what it can sell to us and I’m tired. I’m tired of being told I need to buy to be beautiful. So here’s a quiet call to arms: believe in your own power, believe in your strength and your beauty and your ability to change the world. Consume your media with a critical eye and paint the billboards over with poetry. The night sky’s a canvas but for dreamers not advertisers. Take my hand. It’s time we all said no. ❞
Thursday, 15th of May with 141 notes
❝ in the unsalvageable dregs
we agreed on one thing
at least: i was something
made of glass (you meaning
fragile and smudged with fingerprints
and i meaning shattered
and sharp and dangerous)
you’re a mess, honey -
you never know
you’ve broken something
until you’re
dripping red and lonely. ❞
Wednesday, 14th of May with 252 notes
Poetry   poetry   my poetry