#virtualink

I live my life in polarity

The desire of wanting to be known and wanting no one to know me

Constantly torn between which version of myself I should commit to

The first choice usually satisfies me until I’m full

And then I have to climb the ladder until I’m hungry again

I almost always scrape my knees on the way up, and I get angry that I can’t seem to do anything without bloodshed

Why can’t I do this neatly?

My hands are always getting dirty with nothing to show for it

Balancing on the tight rope of self doubt and overwhelming certainty

My interests are always at odds and I’m ready to wave the white flag

Yet, I want to be a paradox, an oxymoron,

Easy to swallow and hard to stomach

Mostly, I want to feel still while I’m moving

Does that make sense?

I want to be stagnant

I think in my past lives, I climbed mountains and captain ships

I think I spoke five languages, and learned how to love others and all of them

I probably orchestrated symphonies and painted in the fields of France and ate fruit under the cypress sun

And I probably felt grief the size of the Mediterranean and drowned in seas of self-doubt

I probably failed, over and over again and buried countless versions of myself

And I probably carried my body back to the water and let the waves wash off the dirt and put myself back together again

Then I got back on my feet

And I climbed more mountains

And captained more ships

Dropped a Stargate on my foot.

Step 9384). Drop black monolith

on surface. Induce the use of tools

among indigenous                        Martians.       Commence        trippin.

Protists vs Conifers #TheProsAndCons

I just saw my doppelganger,

one of the Russian gymnastics coach. 

                                  these field theory equations don't solve themselves.

Oh      wait...

 That     would      explain     all      the       chalk 

#RejectedOlympicEvents Tatum Channing     =       Big ol' sardine fight

a semicolon is too much, consider using a millicolon.

You wake to find a spider spinning a web

directly across your face. You can't move.

                                                                              The web spells out "YOLO"

 It was Emilie du Chatelet, who showed Newton's guess (mv) was wrong 

It's somewhat bittersweet that I'm at the peak

                                              of my breakdancing career

"hollow earth" legends --

earth is a shell, & you could live on the *inside* surface

if you could get there

Asymptotal Recall #moviemath 

{ #WhatSoundWouldAHashtagBe Charlton Heston opening mail + Synchronized racoon greasing #TerribleOlympicSports } = The Latin term 'sic', used after written quotes, now means "dude that quote was totally sic eh bro???"

The forsaken neutrinos plunge into drugs & depression.......#Factwad

"If you can exist in the same quantum state as your mother in law... you might be a boson!"

                          Blame it on rounding errors #terribleAlgorithms

written by @timeblimp

curated from twitter feed by @deja_raconte

Courage    does     not     always    roar      

NOTICE: Thank you for noticing this new notice. Your noticing it has been noted. And will be reported to the authorities

cosmic    giggle     factory               ...shouldn't we be running the other way??!

crossroad    of     mythic     proportions     You said it's only a one off, only a line But now it's    a     circle, all    of    the   time

Toujours    stupéfié    Par ce manque      de direction          

parce    que    tout      le monde       est une étoile         dans ses yeux

my    mortal     body    just     happens       to be     

You didn't save my life,           you     ruined    my    death!

Reason's  final step     is to realize that there are an infinite       number of things

which surpass it 

Behold   the   happy      idiot

laugh   hard   at            the absurdly evil

time's just a pillow between our knees and      I      can't     decide

if      that's a good or a bad thing

Hail / Praise / Ia / Fuck / SMILE / Eat Lasagne / "Bob" / Cthulhu / The Conspiracy / Moksha / Spam 

all

of

a

sudden

I

miss

everyone 

written by @PansyTheLion

curated from twitter feed by @deja_raconte

Your heart is an experiment.

Starve the sponge in you

   Ethereal in our sense of disconnection.                     We grew up all bright.

Turn the metal of the knife that stabs, into

the hand that pats.  Substance-free

transcendental           slip-streams. 

Black and white, the fractal selves fight

Use your emotional alchemy.

Let me be the veins in your wings

I don't know the plural of paillette.

Your birthday is purple.  

Anthro, poda              Unnece-Siri

Gang of wolf gardeners.                    Give me luxury love.

Your sticks and stones. My chains and whips.

A sky that mirrors                   your neuro-pathways.

                                                             This will never work.

You are fructose, I am xylitol.

We are heady scents but our base notes clash with each other.

written by @Trillionaire

curated from twitter feed by @deja_raconte

An Experimental Weekend Virtual Writing Workshop on twitter called #VirtualInk. [ run by @deja_raconte]

Theme for Workshop : Outside My Window

Crows hold a black mass around a crimson carcass

  feet from the deadman stretcher

  The neighbours who carried their deadneighbour out

  wear white and silence

  A bush sings praises to the rain gods as it sacrifices

  its leaves to a kitten’s claws

  The deadneighbour’s Rottweilers howl their mourning song

  And the kitten won’t wash its ears

  The things that are living there must not be disturbed

  A sparrow warchirps;

  beakstabs a brownorange butterfly with blind spoteyes

  I sit behind my window

  watching a spider balloon away to an elsewhere life.

An Experimental Weekend Virtual Writing Workshop on twitter called #VirtualInk. [ run by @deja_raconte]

Theme for Workshop 1: A Body's Geography

The past is a foreign country. So is my body. I am fifteen years old, standing naked in front of a mirror. I’m searching for something across this intimate wilderness. Lips curled contemptuously into a lonely oxbow lake. Wonder flares. A lost comet in the nightsky of my open mouth. In time these square, broad jaws would scare away meek seekers. They saw an unflinching fortress, not my shy bastion. Nothing like His. I grip my face and suggest to unyielding mandibles, consider something narrow and pointed. I was not narrow and pointed. I would never be. The force of His resolute, unbending discipline is the challenge set in these angular barricades. These eyes catch the shadows of a scowl twisting the landscape of my face. Unlike those flat, corn-growing prairies, sinister in their openness, mine is a place where I lay down a trick of weapons. There is no vulnerability to be exploited here. But if there is courage, why be unsure of strength? Lying on my back in an open field, arms spread, eyes half open to the sun. I sense the heft of the planet and the lurking threat of it folding into itself. A strange, sticky force in the bowels of the earth demanded it come back home at 6pm, or like Persephone destined to inchoate thrills. In the future these angry eyes would be the subject of love and dissection. So intense. Are you Bengali? And then came jilted lovers with sharper phrases. Wicked. Kohl-girl. One day in the future a woman would say a beautiful thing about these eyes. They're like dark, irresistible aureolae. At fifteen I could only be angry at why - despite their size and depth - those unlit, roiling seas refused to offer any answers. Even then I wondered if there was an awful secret beneath the surface. I trace a line from neck to hips gently flaring like the nostrils of a monster in repose. One day in the future a man would skillfully trace that very journey but taking a more meandering path. I had no way of knowing that those hips were capable of turning on themselves to stack a firm, full trunk and baggage of legs and adventures into the air like a weaving, conniving totem to freedom.Or that they could hoist hungry travellers onto cliffs to throw themselves off of into wondrous freefall. I watched in amazement as they expanded with every passing day. Briefly, palms flat against what I would eventually come to refer to as hara, tan tien, I think about babies, blood and tubes. And seeds. Do they float in the murky mucosa weightless and playful? Are they Saturnine and heavy with the terrible knowledge of what power they hold? Why do they refer to the uterus as a muscle? I would spend many years wondering if I should exercise it or fill it up with political rhetoric, learning very late that both are indeed possible. Again, Him in the legs. The knees arcing back like bows, taut and thrumming with a desire for release and reach. I could sense their strength but didn't know what it was for. I bemoaned the broad feet, the tree-trunk legs.I never made the connections between those legs and the effortlessness of childhood gymnastics, teenage dancing, and fearless adventuring in life. Of course, I didn't know about the adventuring. I was filthy-impatient to start. A hands slips into the familiar territory of down there. I cannot not go there. Or can I? Volumes of storytales would come to supplant the fairytales. Years later I saw something called a Website about something that grew on exotic islands in the ocean – coco de mer. Down there was salt-studded, coco-de-mer. And the sea it came from reflected the stark, precious mystery of lunar landscapes above. Ars erotica is in the unspeaking, the undoing, and I glimpsed that spit reaching out into the sea through sheer curtains shifting in a breeze. I am still fifteen years old, standing naked in front of a mirror. I’m cutting out little starshapes from silver foil saved from chewing gum wrappers, glueing them to the unknowable sky of my body. I am sitting underneath a damask sky, wishing on silver-stuck stars.

raven, the verb.. 

Good morning shapeshifters and survivors.

   Courage donc à toi aussi ma belle.

            Crescenty mountain moon just rising, peaking through pines.

                Granny, who in her youth had been a famous card shark courtesan in gay               

                                                                                                   Pareee, dies!

                              I miss the hush of snow. I shall go out and count sunbeams.

                                        I [velvet blindfold] you.  the struggle not to harm. 

                                             you are ten billion stars. could there be one color,

                                                could there be one star, never enough it would be,

                                                            not even a splinter of what you are. a tertulia of stars   

                                                               I [Best Original Screenplay] you. 

                                                    Elementary, my dear Frodo. I [Daenerys] you

                                           your genres are showing...*does not compute*

                                                                       cama sweet cama.... I got lost in a rainsong.

                            @deja_raconte And yes, I know I'm speaking to you as a                    

                                                                                                         mirror of myself

                         @deja_raconte The Navajo call it 'The Beauty Way' we havé nô

                                                                                                                answers

           que he hecho para merecer esa

     May your edges be sharp and your whispers be tender 

dry leaves skittering out of reach, wind & fatigue claim them before fingers ever can

just saw a prostitute with a row of lit candles as decoration across the top

of her van's dashboard. Romance. I love it.

'You should get some sleep. It's going to be a long war.

written by @aliaena

curated from twitter feed by @deja_raconte