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#elluno
elluno · 2 years
Text
And what can be said
of the jewel covered lady?
When the deaf man appeared
And tore her scale for scale,
left her bloodied -
Dead -
She lived to give him sound
And she screamed until his soul bled
For mercy.
(inspired by Jibaro)
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spiderversegf · 1 year
Note
Hey! Could you make a playlist for my name please? It’s Amaka 🖤
almost (sweet music) – hozier
the moon song – walker burroughs
august – akurei
kiss me – sixpence none the richer
anxious – hippo campus
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wnq-writers · 7 years
Quote
Love is not something we hold, we exhale it.
elluno 
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elluno · 1 year
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I am not my mother’s daughter.
I am her right arm.
cut off.
bone jagged.
bloodless.
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elluno · 2 years
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I want to crawl beneath his shirt
and sit there
- skin to skin -
breath bare on his chest.
I want to be near him.
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elluno · 1 month
Text
Mastery
of the mind
(kind)
Is more about
Choosing the thoughts
That do Good
Than anything else
Flowing out
In the Endless stream
and on those plains
moving From the back
Of my mind
Into the front of theirs
-words tied to water.
With age And time,
brackets widen and fill
With endless more
Whispers
Shouts
Moans and grumbles
And parallel,
Wisdom like naked wintered
oak,
Stretches it’s branches and retrieves
Thoughts of its own
Before placing them in
Our hands this way.
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elluno · 2 months
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How many times will you cut my heart wide open before I leave?
To be honest, I stopped counting a long time ago.
Wouldn’t it be nice if I could disappear?
Not forever forever, but long enough to outlive the pain,
Wouldn’t that be nice?
The sunrise doesn’t really mean much to me anymore,
I wish I could be by the sea instead.
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elluno · 4 months
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I’m still alone.
When no one is watching, the smoke rises from my lips and chokes me.
I scream out for light and it looks at me from within.
It knocks and waits and smiles and tells me everything will be alright.
Why don’t I believe it?
I still don’t believe it.
Why can’t I believe it?
You know the language of my tears, the song of my pain.
Surely it calls out to you day and night.
Though I drown in these waters daily, they look on, and my thrashing limbs are still, in their eyes.
In my dreams they stare past me; it isn’t much different from reality.
I wish my salvation was convincing.
I can’t even share it because I’m not even fully convinced it’s real, eternal.
My heart still hurts despite it all, but as much as I want to hate you, I can’t.
I cannot form it within myself. Every atom in my body rebels against the idea.
My bones know you, your voice, your presence. How can I pretend I don’t? It’s pointless, isn’t it?
So where does that leave us?
Me in your arms, bleeding, as you cradle me to sleep for another night.
I guess I’ll hope that somewhere in the unknown, a day exists where I’m no longer bleeding.
Maybe that day will be tomorrow.
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elluno · 8 months
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I plant my seeds as I cry,
I reap them all out in joy.
My laughter rings in the night,
My smile shines brighter than yours
And all the secrets within
They gather us and we all look out of the window.
I plant my seeds as I cry,
I reap them all out in joy.
You search my soul from within,
And gather me as I fall
And all the darkness in me
You cover up and we both look out of the window.
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elluno · 4 months
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I refuse to use my own hands to carve a price into my body.
I already see onlookers, voyeurs and bystanders doing the maths in their heads, numbers whizzing behind their eyes. I refuse to help them, make it easier for them to decide where I fit, where I belong.
You see, I like being elusive, mythical. I’ve never really fit in anywhere, anyway.
How many of you have been enticed by the system that steals lifeblood from your sisters, to give you glowier skin?
They know that it is the tears of other women they drink in their ginseng infused tea, yet they sip on, eyes glazed over, in love.
You will never achieve it that way. Those eyes and these eyes and the next, they are all dissatisfied in some way. One hundred becomes two, and then ten, it is never enough.
Perhaps it’s foolish of me to believe that we can escape this all on our own.
I don’t expect the individual to multiply themselves and overthrow their rulers;
I ask questions while fluttering my lashes, and sticking gemstones on my nails.
One thing community does is force you to look beyond yourself, and realise the decisions you make in your own life have a domino effect on the other lives you are involved in.
I want us all to truly feel the weight of that burden, run our hands over its surface and familiarise our eyes with its innards.
How does that make you feel?
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elluno · 8 months
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I used to lie in bed and journal in my poetry.
I didn’t have friends. I had no one to talk to. I was so used to being friendless. I’m not anymore, but I don’t know how to use them. Use them. That sounds wrong. It’s true though. I don’t call them when I panic. I self soothe. I don’t call them when I’m angry. I self soothe. I don’t call them when I’m excited. I celebrate myself. I am so used to being alone. I don’t know how to share with people anymore. I had ‘friends’ who were in name only. They didn’t care about me deeply. And it was a good thing back then. It was necessary. I was terrified of people seeing the real me. I was so used to being othered, outcasted. I became my own best friend. Sometimes i truly believe I don’t need anybody else. I know how important community is and I deeply appreciate it. The pain of the past can speak louder than reason at times though. I suppose I am being rather dramatic. I did have friends, they just didn’t take the form I expected them to. I’m working towards striking a balance. I’ve been living in too many extremes. Things are settling within me now. It’s about damn time. All glory goes to my Father. Through Him all things were made and all things are made possible. He is the One perfecting everything concerning me. I trust Him now. I didn’t really before, couldn’t really before. I was so broken. He has brought me healing and given me space to breathe. It’s exactly what I needed. He knows exactly what I need and He is kind enough to give it to me on every single occasion. Aren’t I privileged? Spoilt even? I have always had a friend in Him. Thank you Spirit, for being a friend to me when no one else would. For being a Father when I didn’t have one. For being my hope when I had none. Thank you. I know I have enemies. It’s ok. Because I’m safe with you. Everything will work out exactly as you have willed it because you are God. You are good. And you love me. It is well 🫶🏾
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elluno · 2 months
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Born in the midst of chaos,
so shall light shine unobstructed.
Say, what can be compared to it?
Who?
In truth, I have tried to source them,
dig them out of the earth with my own hands,
so when I smothered myself in that very earth
and burned,
I wondered why the smoke was so bright.
Neither grey nor black - radiant -
sweet smelling fragrance.
How can that be explained?
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elluno · 11 months
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Their eyes are sewn into the palms of my hands.
I put my hands together in prayer
and I feel their eyes on me,
on me.
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elluno · 5 months
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I can’t get away from myself.
Like Paul said, I am exactly what I don’t want to be, who I don’t want to be. The woman of my dreams seems so far out of reach.
I’m a fan of R&B stars and I hear myself in their voices. When I sing I struggle to hear myself. Who’s opinion is closest to the truth?
I’ve been told my poems sound more like lyrics, will you write me a melody? I can’t seem to figure one out when I try, but I find myself humming the ghost of a track here and there.
Why is it all so hard?
I want to be beautiful and I keep being told I am and I’m not and I am and I’m not. Which one is it? It’s always said in the room next door, oh this person said this about you when you weren’t here. Why don’t you just kiss me, instead of my shadow?
Sideways glances, hidden stares and whispers into the ears of others. Why do you devour hers and not mine?
I want it all and nothing at once. If it’s not sincere I don’t want it, genuine. I only want it raw, whatever, however you think that is.
So many missed connections, connections I’ve missed. Open heart surgery is terrifying, I don’t want your disease, but please infect me sir. I’m contradicting myself aren’t I? I can’t help it. What I want today, the me of tomorrow detests.
I listen to music for depressed people. Does that make me depressed? Oh well, there is no shame in being frank with myself.
I search the word and his skin for the same things and end up confused both ways, back aching, heart weeping.
Phantoms still follow me into my dreams and torment me there. In waking and in sleeping I am tormented.
It’s all a cycle I recognise now. I guess knowing ahead of time gives me the opportunity to prepare: ‘failure to prepare is preparing to fail’, they say. Nothing could prepare me for this.
I’m a little girl again, before these breasts of mine drew wandering eyes and my tongue misted with heat and contempt at once. Who doesn’t truly want to be carried?
I don’t have the answers yet and maybe I never will. Right now I live for the beauty of the changing leaves. Orange, maroon, yellows, burgundy, dying green. I live for the warmth of bodies at the central library. I live for laughter in the mouths of him and him and her. I live for you. What else can I say?
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elluno · 8 months
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Yes the crushing of my lungs, born in the curiosity of that boy’s gaze, even now still impairs the vacuuming of air in my chest.
In every tall dark figure, I see his gait.
In every bleached smile, his teeth.
In their hunger I see the blood on my uniform.
A little dove, wingless, sat on soft stolen thighs and a talking drum beat beneath the boy’s skin.
He spoke the language of the conquerors, the thieves and the murderers and blew gas-less wind into my little face.
I fell into him, inhaled as he exhaled. When I closed my eyes I could only hear the beat of the talking drum.
I began to hum along to the song of my destruction. For four hundred days, I hummed along to the song of my destruction. My throat became hoarse though, so I asked him to put his sticks away.
There was supposed to be silence
but the phantom of his song didn’t leave my lungs. Didn’t leave my lips.
Later, I was told of a specialist, a composer, who could rid me of that dreadful noise. I began to visit him.
Sometimes daily, sometimes nightly.
He taught me how to sing again, even with these broken lungs.
I am one shaky breath closer to forgetting the song of my destruction.
We are writing the song of my salvation.
It is sweet to the ear and refreshing to the soul.
I would like my final performance to be before an audience of two:
That boy with the talking drum and the wingless dove. I wish to take my breath back from his chest with my own hands and let the wingless dove take flight with my song.
Only then will I be free.
Only then will I be free.
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elluno · 8 months
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I wish we didn’t have to wear shoes.
Well, being barefoot isn’t illegal,
It just isn’t the done thing.
If I could free my toes, though it sounds weird to say,
I would walk on rocks and pavement braille and learn to feel the Earth breathe.
I think we would all be so much kinder if we took off our shoes.
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