A most beautiful space ~ St. Petersburg art studio of Arkhip Kuinji, a 19th century Georgian artist.Ā Who wouldnāt be inspired with this kind of natural light?
*Photographer Pieter Estersohn
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@im-not-a-muggle
A most beautiful space ~ St. Petersburg art studio of Arkhip Kuinji, a 19th century Georgian artist.Ā Who wouldnāt be inspired with this kind of natural light?
*Photographer Pieter Estersohn

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A poem should be a house, the door unlocked. You let yourself inside. You hear, in some room down the hallway, whispering. A piano. Laughter. Muffled crying. You walk to the room. You open the door, and inside is the thing you always feared. Inside is the person you love. The person who never loved you. The person who died. Yourself. Hanging flowers. A box of melted snow. Inside is the thing you did not know you were going to find. It surprises you. The poem is the journey down the hallwayāthe heart, thudding; the mystery, the anticipation, the hope, the unknown, the unknown. Itās purpose is the thing behind the door.
Joy Song
I will lead you to the river so you can remember how beautiful it feels to be moved by something that is out of your control.
Emery Allen (via catjoyy)

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Literally every diaspora kid ever: āI was caught between two worlds; unaccepted in each. I was a foreigner wherever I went, only partially belonging to any land or people. The monsoon rains shed the tears that I cannot. I bite into my mango, letting the juice drip down my chin. The sticky sweetness of it clinging to me like my grief. I am a wanderer, belonging nowhere and everywhere. I blast the latest Coldplay, wondering what will become of me and the dissonance I was born intoā
Roses are red, that much is true, but violets are purple, not fucking blue.
I have been waiting for this post all my life.
They are indeed purple, But one thing youāve missed: The concept ofĀ āpurpleā Didnāt always exist.
Some cultures lack names For a color, you see. Hence good old Homer And his āwine-dark sea.ā
A usage so quaint, A phrasing so old, For verses of romance Is sheer fucking gold.
So roses are red. Violets once were called blue. Iām hugely pedantic But what else is new?
Beta Carotene by Reuben Wu
I know, I know and you know, we knew, we did not know, we were there, after all, and not there and at times when only the void stood between us we got all the way to each other.
Paul Celan, from So Many Constellations (via commovente)

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Abandonment issues, Marchand Meffre
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The Tumblr Poetry Aesthetic, or: the stars, the sea, Icarus, dark suburbia, and the (un)intentional pandering and ungrowth of the well-established
this conversation was initiated for me (madina) personally by giana @syrupbrat and stefan @travelingsalesman. epoch discussed this extensively in our discord chat, and the content of this post is mostly pulled out of that discussion.
When browsing through the usual tags used to promote oneās own writing on Tumblr, such as #inkstay, #spilled ink, #poets on tumblr, etc, we seem to drown in the sameness of everyoneās writing styles that it all is indistinct. It boils down to a haze of blah blah blah stars, blah blah blah yet another comparison to a Greek mythology figure, more love poetry, girl as dangerous, boy as god, alcohol is the only way weāll survive.
These themes originated in what one might call the heydays of Peakā¢Ā tumblr poetry (this is starting to sound like a school essay & smh I canāt let this post go that direction), circa 2013(?)-2015. Most of it was documented in @nosebleedclubās āMemories of a Certain Spring: A Workbookā ā Nosebleed Club was, in fact, what you would point at if you were asked in 2014 what āTumblr writingā is (cue the emphasis on was, the evolution of NBC continues until now & I feel like a proud daughter about it). Multiple networks and groups have then spanned from that model, some which are still going until now, some abandoned and left to the dust ā just so that you could be part of that āelite cool kids clubā, whether the original one or not. the writers in the original collective also had their writing styles copied and/or plagiarized to capitalize off how prevalent and popular this aesthetic is but nvm thatās not my place to extensively rant about
I do love the stars. The sea, mythology, dangerous teenage gods, I love them all and I honestly would die for them (yes, the planets, ocean, and those tragic myths included) ā but when people write about them just because they think itāll be popular, just because it fits into the predefined box of what is proven to be well liked ā an aesthetic that has since consumed us ā exploration and experimentation dies, and thatās when it becomes dangerous. Everything posted will only be the product of rehashing and emulating what has been written and consumed before ā shallow imageries without anything to say, without anything to make it yours. It got over-commercialized fast and crumbled. Letās not even mention those who made a fake persona to make their poetry feel more ārealā and authentic, those who write about drugs and alcohol w/o experiences backing them up and only stereotypes & what other people have written about it.
This phenomenon is further supported by Tumblr itself being a bad site in general bad platform for writing on its own ā those notes, those likes and reblogs, really do shape up to define you, whether youāre conscious of it happening or not. We all crave for that feeling of being noticed because thatās just how it is. I myself canāt even say I never wrote something just for those notes, and Iām sure others that started out writing in Tumblr can say the same. If you donāt realize it yourself; if you donāt become self-conscious of the fact that really, Tumblr is a bubble, and do not actively seek out for anything new because you donāt see the need for it ā you get stuck in it. Even if you wrote with the aesthetic that we all fell in love with, thereās a chance that you wonāt get the recognition you think it deserved ā it crushes you, and the cycle repeats again.
(this aesthetic, in turn, bled and drenched almost every tumblr roleplay until they all became the same and unrecognizable individually, whether with the usual tropes of characters: Sad Rich Girl With A Heart Of Gold. Bad Rich Boy With A Heart Of Gold. Gay Guy With A Bad Past So Heās Hypersexual Now ā or situational: your edgy Welcome To This Small Suburban Town Where Everyone is a Supernatural Creature, or perhaps your This Is A Simulation of a Real Life Town for People Who Have No Lives)
Personally, I do believe in the existence of Bad Poetry ā though āunderdevelopedā is the word I prefer to use (maybe itās just because Iām a softie and I canāt say outright that itās bad, but letās be real, bad poetry is bad poetry). No soul and nothing else to offer than just a few pretty words and fleeting concepts. Pseudo-profound bullshittery. u wanna get off it?
internalize the fact that we unconsciously seek for approval
get off tumblr for a while and write in your solitudeĀ
consume more than u write.
explore & experiment upon different themes and structure. get out of your comfort zone in writing
write about your own memories and experiences, whether good or bad or interesting or not interesting, not what is deemed is consumable
turn to your culture and read up those local myths
ā Honestly, I donāt know how because it cannot be forced.Ā But recognizing that this exists will in turn make you think even more critically about your writing.
oh, thatās it ā be critical. To the words that surround you & the words that come out of you.
To close this off: āits Everywhere like i get it . u wanna be a vampire cheerleader with a smile too big. i Get it . lets do something elseā - @arckhaic
Mt Bromo, Batuk and Semeru by Reuben Wu
never stop being a good person because of bad people

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I want to be so fearless in the face of death that if the atomic bomb ever explodes near me I will be able to enjoy the pretty colors before I vaporize.
#goals