sometimes i think about gay people who lived centuries ago who thought they were all alone who imagined a world where they could live openly as themselves who met in secret spoke in code defied everything and everyone just to exist and i’m like..i gotta sit down. whew i gotta sit down
If this little book should see the light after its 100 years of entombment, I would like its readers to know that the author was a lover of her own sex and devoted the best years of her life in striving for the political equality and social and moral elevation of women.
“The Great Geysers of California” by Laura De Force Gordon, 1879, unearthed from a 100-year-old time capsule in San Francisco, 1979.
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if all our letters could be published in the future in a more enlightened time. Then all the world could see how in love we are.”
it’s a mix of published poets, blog excerpts, and internet poets, covering themes of love, grief, living, butch-femme, LGBT, nature and justice! - full list of contents in read more :)
it’s free since it’s not my own original work, but if you wanna tip for making the PDF then it’s much appreciated!! 🧡
(sidenote: if you/your work has appeared in this and you want it removed or edited, let me know and i’ll do so immediately!)
finally finished a painting i've been cooking in my mind for a few years! shadowgast as The Devil, one of my favorite tarot cards and one of the three cards i associate with their relationship
i'm not much for divination but i love the story-telling aspect of tarot, and one of my favorite visual metaphors of The Devil is how loose the chains around the two figures' necks are. they're not kept bound. it's that possibility to choose that i find so significant, and so fitting for the story of these two wizards. to say you're not defined by your past is to say you're born with all the choices you make; but to say you are forever defined by it is to deny yourself the right to change. the chains around your neck might be very heavy, but the choice to shrug them off is always yours to take.
heated rivalry has nothing on gerard ways real life on stage corpse play or when frank iero in real life asked to be tied up and stepped on and covered in blood
I was thinking of my memaw today and how much i miss her storytelling and singing of old folk poems/songs - and then it occurred to me that this is becoming a lost art for a lot of us in the west (and i'd bet probably for most of the developed world at this point) and I'm doubtful many gen z and gen alpha will have heard these things in the ways we Elders had during our youth. so how about we share some?
i'll start, with the "two dead boys" paradox poem!
Ladies and Gentlemen, hobos and tramps, Cross-eyed mosquitos and bow-legged ants, I'll tell you a tale I know nothing about. The admission is free, so pay at the door, Now pull up a chair and sit on the floor.
One bright day in the middle of the night, Two dead boys got up to a fight. Back to back, they faced each other, Drew their swords and shot each other. A blind man came to watch fair play, A mute man came to shout "Hooray!" A deaf policeman heard the noise And came and killed those two dead boys. He lived on the corner in the middle of the block, In a two-story house on a vacant lot. A man with no legs came walking by, and kicked the lawman in his thigh. He crashed through a wall without making a sound, into a dry creek bed and suddenly drowned. A long black hearse came to cart him away, But he ran for his life and is still gone this day. I watched from the corner of a big round table, The only eyewitness to facts of my fable. But if you doubt my lies are true, Just ask the blind man, he saw it too.
moveslikekeithrichards
jarchivistsims
l2g
mortuarybees
phantom-tail
katherinebarlow
damejoansutherland
vintage-tigre
cowboy-heart
horrificgoth
ALT
ALT
ALT
zmeess
dragons
moki-dokie
pimpom-ns
