bisexual, any pronouns, disabled, white, twenties | playing dice with my small corner of the universe | reblogs from @diceystealstheinternet

63 posts

Day 3: Bait. To Reel 'em In. Another Poem To Go With My Sketch And I'm Falling For Inktober. Hook, Line,

Line drawing of a fish hook with three sharp barbs and a piece of string twined thought the eyelet. Underneath is a haiku: 'My heart on a hook, / Sweet bait to catch a crook. / My soul on a string.'

Day 3: Bait. To reel 'em in. Another poem to go with my sketch and I'm falling for Inktober. Hook, line, and sinker.

/

My heart on a hook,

Such sweet bait to catch a crook.

My soul on a string.

/

AKB 2019

  • ambroseharte
    ambroseharte liked this · 5 years ago

More Posts from Diceydeals

5 years ago
Line drawing of a handgun, seen side-on, angled slightly down. Underneath is a haiku which reads: 'Bright noise, Loud lights flash. / Freeze! Hands up, Down on the ground. / Mess of cops and kids.'

Day 4: Freeze. Couldn't get this out of my head today.

/

Bright noise, Loud lights flash.

Freeze! Hands up, Down on the ground.

Mess of cops and kids.

/

AKB 2019


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5 years ago

"That's my psychological support husband!"

- actual quote from my mother who has no clue about memes or the internet or but sir, that's my emotional support anything... so,,, I guess everyone now and then humans go and reinvent well know tumblr phrases huh?


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5 years ago

Rock Climbing

/

Bruised knees purple like my nail varnish,

chipped and jagged like the fingers of mountains

carressing the clouds,

callouses where I grip at the rock face like it's your hand.

I hold myself up on you but my wrists ache and my arms spasm and I fall.

You are not my safety mat.

Not basecamp but heady heights.

I climb and retreat. You are unmoved.

There is no give when I crash into you.

No mitigating yourself for my presence.

I cannot live my life where you are.

The air too thin, the sights so dizzy, the light bright enough to make my eyes blink

and I have to look away.

No space for mortals in these craggy halls open under the sky.

Just the risk of exposure. No tent,

No shelter here.

/

AKB 2020


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5 years ago

Words From Before

/

Women power my body:

they are neither consumed for calories

- eat their love and labour -

nor burned for fuel on pyres

- their bodies have always fueled hatred -

yet they are the force behind

every action, each choice.

/

My mitochondria: powerhouse of the cell.

We consist of cells and stars and oceans;

we subsist on truth and tales and lies.

My mother told me I have in me

my grandmothers' mitochondria

- I don't know who told her -

but she wants to believe it so I believe it too

- my mother told me so I want it to be true...

/

Being a woman is just:

[inherits mother's dreams and trauma][inherits grandmother's trauma and mitochondria][inherits great-grandmother's dreams and trauma][inherits]

...

I never research for poems or I start writing essays;

I just listen to my elders,

listen to my ancestors,

and get lost there instead.

Listen to my self and my body and the 'verse.

/

In the shower I let my body be

itself

its curves not hidden by tucks and layers,

not displayed in heels and high-waisted jeans,

not stuffed into bras

and smuggled into knickers;

I just let the water run, let my calloused hands smooth my soft body, wash and stroke away the hurts I've caused.

My hair tangles, it wants to be short.

But my body just is

as it is

as it is.

/

Powered by the mitochondria of my grandmothers

and their grandmothers

and theirs

and the 'verse.

/

AKB 2020


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