50% Enchanted Read the Printed Word! Poems, Prose, and Song

schizophreniatic:

Jenny Han, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before

schizophreniatic:

Jenny Han, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before


aseaofquotes:

Lisa Ann Sandell, A Map of the Known World

aseaofquotes:

Lisa Ann Sandell, A Map of the Known World

(via raynman)


bring in the light

Driver: So where do your travels take you?
Judd: Miami.
Driver: Miami! An exuberant place. What takes you there? Business or pleasure?
Judd: Well, neither. I'm visiting a sick friend.
Driver: Oh. I am very sorry to hear that. You know...you're carrying a lot of darkness around you.
Judd: Sorry?
Driver: Darkness. You're carrying it all around you...that's NOT why you're going to see your friend. *You're* there to bring in the light. *You're* there to bring them up. Okay? UP! Y'hear?
Judd: I hear ya. Up.
Driver: Good! 'Cause y'know...you got to give back what you've been given, my friend.

schizophreniatic:

a man standson hishead oneminute—
then hesitdown alldifferent
—Aram Saroyan. Art: Hossein Zare.

schizophreniatic:

a man stands
on his
head one
minute—

then he
sit
down all
different

Aram Saroyan. Art: Hossein Zare.


schizophreniatic:

— Rainer Maria Rilke

schizophreniatic:

— Rainer Maria Rilke

(via raynman)


Travelling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things — air, sleep, dreams, the sea, the sky — all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it.
Cesare Pavese (via darkinterludes)

(via deliciousinterludes)


backroadshaiku:

fireflies…

we can all be stars

for a few seconds

    ____

summer breeze -

the last song

of a hay field

    ____

drying hay -

a hawk

circles lower


victim-of-convenience:

Behind the bomb
we planted a garden
said we’d grow old there
instead grew too wise
Roses were just roses
to nettles to dust
Nothing lasts forever, love
least of all us

Over the garden
we carved out a city
a fortress of fear
and doubt in disguise
of fountains for pennies
prayers for the poor
and billions to finance
tomorrow’s new war

Beside the water
we buried our bones
under blankets of roses
pennies on our eyes
and followed the ocean
to river to stream
to bloom from this battlefield
Nature redeems


Here is a poem about a boy with a mouth like glass and a girl with a body like a ghost. She has hands like sand. The curve of his neck resembles the curve of a wine bottle. Maybe they are made of the same material, one broken and one invincible.

Here’s what I know: New York is one of the few cities that looks dreamy while swimming in a cloud of pollution. I need to stop making decisions while medicated. The goosebumps on your body in December resemble the ghost of a lost city and I am swimming in your ruins.

Home is not a place, and it has no address. It has ears and a shoulder and most days that’s good enough. Home changes locations as much as I do. I feel lost but sometimes we find each other.

I am using the word ghost in too many of my poems because that is the only way I know how to tell you that I am here but not really here.

I am not sure what to do when my own body no longer feels like a home.


Things I Promise Myself:

i. I promise to never tell someone the ending of a book or a movie unless they really ask for it. I don’t want to spoil the future by telling them what will happen, for most of the fun lies in the journey to getting there.

ii. I promise to never hate myself to the point where I will hold a razor blade in my right hand and a bottle of pills on the left. I will make sure that there is some kind of faint hope left in me. And I will spark the fire myself even when it burns out.

iii. I promise to never shed my skin for someone else. I will only do so when I am ready and when I want to.

iv. I promise to never love someone who only wants me on Friday and Saturday nights and never calls back on Sunday morning.

v. And I promise to never fill up the voids and empty spaces people left in others. I will make a home instead.

vi. I promise to never take my past experiences and place them as a burden on the future. I vow to make my decisions instead of letting bad experiences dictate my thoughts and feelings.

vii. I promise to continue to swim even when it feels like I am drowning. But I also promise to never swim towards the sharks or things and people that fool me into thinking they are lighthouses.

viii. I promise to be good to people even when they are not good to me. I will give them a smile even if they are murdering me with their eyes. And I will be compassionate, loving, nice, and genuine to the rest of the world even when it is only raining on me. I will still love the sky even when it storms.

ix. I promise to stop trying to control everything. Life is uncontrollable and that is a blessing, even when it does not seem like it at the moment. Soon, it will all fall into place and even if some things have no reason for happening, I will end up somewhere beautiful. And through it all, I will enjoy myself through the moments that make me bawl and the moments that make me laugh. It will all be worth remembering one day.

x. I promise to never give up on the beauty in life and the sincerity in people. Most importantly, I promise to never give up on myself. I acknowledge my worth and know my value, and therefore, I promise to let myself be happy.
M.D.LA Story A Day #177 (via mingdliu)

(via kararawrbear)


Hearts are wild creatures, that’s why our ribs are cages.
(via veedeerlee)

(via paper-trees)


Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life.
Fernando Pessoa; The Book of Disqquotes

syntaxandsemantics:

we grass away the day, spring forward
two-feet toed out likingly,
and the world encyclopaedias around us,
catalogued we are alphabetic
and mazed between the pages, wander
lolling tongues to sticky paper
fall doored open and windows shut,
we night blinking together
break waves and field light,
make shadows, you word 
my skin almost poetry.


I graduated from high school today. Just a couple of hours ago, in fact. 

But I don’t feel any different. I didn’t look forward to it, like all the people who signed on my yearbook or my classmates’ yearbooks, “OMG I can’t believe we’re graduating!!!!!” or something along those lines. 

The teachers said that sometimes it doesn’t hit you until the speeches at the commencement ceremony, and then you realize what a checkpoint in your life this really is, and how amazing it is that you’ve gotten this far, and how proud you are of what you’ve done and who you are and what you will become or do in the future. It’s an amazing accomplishment, you think. 

But none of that happened. I went through the motions. 

I’m not even that excited for college, which is a little sad, because I can always start out super excited, enthusiastic, and wide-eyed, and then become less excited and wide-eyed in the future. I’d rather be disappointed than have no expectations at all, and never be disappointed. If I’m not excited now, when will I be excited? I won’t become excited after being there for a long time, that’s for sure. (How do I know that? I just know.) 

It’s really easy to see things as black and white, and as good or bad, but I’d like to remember both some good things and bad things about both high school and college, as I’m remembering it and experiencing it, respectively. 

There are so many things that are going on, it just feels sort of like it’s too much for me. It hasn’t hit me yet, the importance of these various ceremonial rites of passage. Senior Ball: of asking a guy and being both semi-rejected and accepted at the same time, of going to an actual high school dance and dancing with everyone, of seeing some of my friends for one of the last times ever, of dressing up, partaking in a meal, and of taking pictures with everyone at the Rose Garden.

We’re all abuzz, desperate to make everything work out, with yearbook signings and promises of visiting each other in college and every seasonal break or chance we get, promises of visiting teachers and classrooms and underclassmen/women. It’s this static energy, where we’re trying to preserve everything we have now, exactly the way it is and exactly the way it should be, but we’re exaggerating and forcing everything in the process. Taking pictures with everyone, even people we briefly knew and became friends with, friends and friends of friends of friends, just so that we can feel like high school has amounted to something, friendships and relationships, and so that we can feel fulfilled. So that we have lots of pictures to look back on, tons of memories to be had, even though we might not even know any of the people years from now. At least the feeling of fun and excitement and friendship remained, right? 

But it’s not real! Many of us won’t see each other again. (Some of us don’t even want to see each other again.) All those new friends we made senior year of high school don’t and won’t compare to the friends we’ve had all throughout elementary, middle, and high school. I feel like we’re all trying to prove to each other and ourselves that we’re having such a great time, and that we’ve made so many friends and made so much happen in high school. 

I may sound really disillusioned, but I promise, I’m not trying to be negative or pessimistic. It’s like we’re trying to document friendships that don’t always exist or have any substance behind it. It’s more like we’re trying to prove to people that we have friends now, we know how to make friends, and when we’re in college, we will have tons of friends. A lot of it is self-gratification, and primarily for self-fulfillment and for show. 

In many ways, I think college will be fun and a positive experience for me, in both opening up and getting to know more people. But I don’t think I accomplished that much in high school, and it’s disappointing to know that the new friendships I made in senior year or any of the other years in high school won’t always last. Actually, I think none of them will last. Only the friends I’ve always had will still be there, and even those will be stretched thin, as new, stronger friendships are forged in college, and as distance drives us apart. 

I don’t want to talk to the people from Leland who are going to the same university as me. I’m afraid I’ll fall back into the same rhythms, of being uncomfortable in every class and awkward and quiet. If I’m with them, I feel like I won’t be able to act outgoing or make friends or break out of my shell. And I don’t want to hold anyone back or rely on anyone, by tagging along with semi-familiar people. If I want to change, I have to lie to myself and everyone I’m with. I can’t have anyone seeing through me or knowing who I was in high school. 

Basically, college is a chance for starting over, for being born anew, and any change in a person’s life is daunting and scary and exhilarating, and hopefully even fun. “It’s an adventure!!1!1!1!!!” Only I say that with a lot of hesitancy and doubt and a tint of cynicism. But, “fake it ‘til you make it,” right? Maybe if I keep saying it to myself, I’ll start to believe in what college has to offer. 


Why do you gotta be so goddamn loud all the time?
It’s like you need the whole world to be aware of your presence
And I won’t be aware and I can’t
Whenever you come into the room, the feeling changes,
The conversations change
It’s a flood and the rest of us, just minding our lives, can’t help but be submerged