A view from high above (Oh Canada)


"All colors are the friends of their neighbors and the lovers of their opposites." — Marc Chagall 

"All colors are the friends of their neighbors and the lovers of their opposites."
— Marc Chagall 

(Source: iamlamour, via so-realism)

Eating NY pizza in LA… getting dropped anonymous happy notes from tumblrites after a long day in the race…
Doesn’t get much better than that :D

Thank you, lovelies!

Tossing and turning… stop

Tossing nights
No angel choir
Heavy breaths
A bed, afire

The morning shook me awake and despite my grumbling face, asked for time to reconnect….

Life is music.. I was told… each tune played to the tempo of its soul… a thought a note.. each chord sublimely said.. when played in rhythm.. not jumbled in your head.

Peaceful sleep
Rested morn
Say your peace
A destiny born

The remains of sunset skies
Harvest moon reminds
Your eyes

The bounce

A belief born from comic books of yore/ that the beaten return/ more powerful than before
The bounce off the trampoline of will/ after one descends/ to own their hell
Stronger now/ having survived/ multitudes of nights/ the world felt fried
Victory tastes sweeter
From the lips of past despair

For every Daddy’s girl

A back erect like a fortress wall/a model spine/ straight and tall
Ears that listen/ from either side/ arms that stretch/ foreign wide
Quick to laugh/ or dab at tears/ a long embrace/ to still those fears

Fathers, please show your daughters what it’s like to be loved. Men do learn from watching their fathers.
alwaysthegrieve:

I often
feel like 
a rose 
in a field
of ash

alwaysthegrieve:

I often
feel like
a rose
in a field
of ash

alwaysthegrieve:

I had a friend once.
A friend.

She clipped them
wings
moth to falcon lips.
and left the hum
of shifting lips
for me to heed
on shoulders low
and cumbersome.

I had a friend once.
A friend.

She read my
palms
and summoned
the dead
for me to heed
in sudden speak.

She left a fool of me.
A fool.

Bemused by the slight
of my reflection,
to question the wind’s
direction.

I ignored too many calls that were storming and colliding
Sinked in the voice of electricity
as a neutral music

The electricity was turned off
The light extinguished
Everything inside of me
Mixed and intertwined

A light longing
Carries me and i carry it
Singing ..It does not sing
It does not play the role of dewdrops

We carry each other towards
An autumnal parting point

Where I can go back , again,
to the depths of my body

And my longing is the autumnal cloud
Will hasten to dissolve in paleness of evening that extends to … to where ?
Take off the head of this question ..
Let it go ..Just go

—   (via meandthebirthofmywords)