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#golapri
vizthedatum · 2 months
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recalibrating people-pleaser (2024)
I used to be really soft and forgiving Muttering "I'm sorry" for all my supposed sinning
I gave an enormous benefit of the doubt I wanted to be friendly no matter the route
I didn't know how much resentment lay inside I pushed all my sadness and anger aside
People usually liked my nature Until I wronged something major
I apologized and wanted to fix it all No matter the cost, no matter how small
People were trying their best with what they had It's not like they wanted to be mad
But I watched as I got hurt without repent My needs and thoughts brought so much dissent
I didn't always know how to be direct When I tried, I was faced with neglect
The little hurts, the big hurts - really, all of it Peacekeeping only goes as far as people want it
The apology and the changing behavior program Only works when I am being true to who I am
Now, I'm speaking up more about my needs I am discerning of people's deeds…
When did I become someone who gave up on people anyway? I love people; I don't want them to go away
But the more I accept what I can't handle I see myself becoming more substantial
I am now more selective of those in my life And I find myself with health, strength, and less strife
My close ones tell me that I'm not that upsetting But my initial attempts at advocacy were offputting
I've upset people with my unrelenting rejection I said unnecessary words borne of disconnection
I've hurt people by turning them away Because I felt as if it was too painful for them to stay
Not repairing relationships can cause pain Yet I am doing it over and over again
Still, I don't regret letting people go They weren't helping me grow
I'm getting better at being able to release I'm thankful for the lessons in forgiveness and peace
But I look back to my soft past self, now obsolete, And I wonder, am I still lovely and sweet?
--
- Rose the artist formerly known as she her Pri ~ গোলাপ্রী
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vizthedatum · 3 months
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bold-faced liars (2024)
Love, I would rather push you away.
Then to be heartbroken as you lie to me
and painfully watch you beg to stay.
--
- Rose the artist formerly known as she her Pri
~ গোলাপ্রী
@ila.sudyumma
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vizthedatum · 5 months
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some thoughts about love (2023)
some thoughts about love!
that it’s not a lack
it’s not about you
doing this or that.
it’s about… hello <3
I uh did a thing
“I liked that a lot”
and hearing hearts sing.
a team meeting
to do some life things.
people being
free to fly with wings.
respect, empathy
tell me how you feel?
boundaries, not walls
growing while we heal.
consideration,
accepting changes.
compassion abounds
for life’s hard stages.
willingness to trust,
knowing it could hurt.
working in tandem,
repairing the hearth.
it’s easy to love!
you can leave or stay.
I am whole enough 
to love either way.
- Rose the artist formerly known as she her Pri
~ গোলাপ্রী
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vizthedatum · 9 months
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limerence or love? (2023)
limerence or love? don't act like you're above.
i sure am not. so i often get caught.
this particular conundrum is so hard to run from when all you have done is beg to be won.
so let me tell you the difference! use my mistakes as your reference.
are y'all entities in orbit or are you acting absorbent?
are you molding or fixing in hopes of connecting? did you put them on a pedestal? convert red flags into something credible? or maybe you're avoiding all the ways your life isn't providing. love is alignment not an assignment.
it's not a yearning addiction. your body will know the contradiction. they can't give you what you want! and love doesn't haunt. it's okay to be afraid, just know that self-love is homemade. recreate your foundation. because love is not a ration.
they're not the answer. but you are. you are your greatest romancer.
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vizthedatum · 3 months
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softness is a strength (2024)
I finally love how soft I am.
I used to resent it.
My voice's flim-flam.
My dysphoria wanted to quit it.
The weight of my body rolls, going, "Wham!"
I wanted to hide it.
The meters I swam.
What if luck had a lot to do with it?
The way I wanted to go on the lam.
Without a change, I'd always come back to it.
No, look in the mirror, fam!
Yes - me, you, can we get with it?
Surrender to your inner jam.
I'm begging you - we're dying without it.
Grab yourself and go, "Damn."
You know you're worth it.
Release your throat and open your clam.
Go forth and speak it.
I love how soft I am.
Let me fill your world with it.
--
- Rose the artist formerly known as she her Pri
~ গোলাপ্রী
@ila.sudyumma
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vizthedatum · 3 months
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I'm somewhat of a magician (2024)
I know my love was unfortunate
when I saw that you dared
to make your hatred proportionate
instead of letting yourself be spared.
What can I say?
I'm deeply flattered
that you made the play
to make me scattered.
A part of me wants to say:
Fuck with me harder
so that I can make you pay
by letting your time squander.
"As above, so below."
I'm selfish while I pray.
Your smite will lead me to my glow,
learning my lessons as you pave the way.
--
- Rose the artist formerly known as she her Pri
~ গোলাপ্রী
@ila.sudyumma
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vizthedatum · 9 months
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Transmute the pain
Feel your suffering
Grief is gain
Rage with all your being
Intuition isn’t a shame
Being crazy is king
True wisdom will rain
Soon you’ll be winning
Again, again, and again
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vizthedatum · 8 months
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Thoughts on names OR Pri was verbose, and so is Rose (2023)
I loved who Pri wanted to be.
I really loved that bub!
Pri decided to be me.
Let me be Pri when I grow up? 
I loved how spiteful I became,
when my friends told me in the 3rd grade 
that Pri could not be my nickname.
A girl a year ahead of us already had Pri claimed.
I became Tika instead.
I laughed in grudging acceptance.
It didn’t sound right in my head.
I went along with it with reluctance.
When Pri was little, 
She dreamed of being a mathematician and an esoteric writer!
Pri was also very superficial.
She wanted to wear pretty dresses with sweatpants underneath instead of a petticoat liner.
Math and words were not really my joys.
It was just what I was good at.
Mostly I wanted to kiss girls and wrestle boys.
I always loved how Pri dared herself to do that.
Wait, hold on,
Maybe wrestle girls and have boys worship her?
Why did it all feel like a con?
Why did being a “she/her Pri” feel like a slur?
Pri was super weird. 
She called herself “intense” and “chaotic.”
Wanting to be the girl that she appeared,
A cis-woman with a touch of the homoerotic.
“I’m Pri,” I insisted when I started college.
“Oh, I get that my name is hard to say - call me Pri.”
People did not question this knowledge.
Besides, it was nice to feel a little free.
I longed for people to learn my whole name. 
Don’t you respect me enough to learn??
Most people’s efforts were highly lame.
Causing me to be in endless yearn.
It wasn’t enough to be just Pritika,
It felt foreign as if I were playing out a fantasy.
Feeling worse than my former sciatica.
Being Pritika was just a convenient chastity.
Pri would make jokes, you know. 
Laugh when she/they wanted to die.
Kept pushing through to continue the show.
Becoming prime fodder for narcissistic supply.
I think Pri could have fallen in love with anyone.
Better than loving myself, I thought.
Who cares if she/they was a horrible daughter and not a son?
I was really good at being a respectable thot.
I cried whenever I felt something so strongly.
Like at lavender graduations or when I suddenly announced I was non-binary.
I wanted to be a creepy old man (jokingly).
Or maybe be monogamishly gay with Bill Nye, despite society.
And even though I loved how babies would yell my chosen nickname,
And how lovers who didn’t know me would whisper “Pri” in my ear,
I wished someone would have interrogated my game,
And ask me, “Well, what do you want to hear?”
It’s not part of my culture or even that “masc”
I resisted in my head.
Was it me or was it just Pri’s whimsical mask?
Maybe it was better left unsaid.
“What's in a name? That which we call a rose,
By any other word would smell as sweet.”
I am lovable and me; a Rose writing their prose.
Of course, I have every right to label my meat.
My name deserves a thousand and eight poems.
And even that would not be enough.
I chose it, and my name is the least of my problems.
Being a feminine man who isn’t a woman/man is far more rough.
Wild roses can often be hosts for disease and pests,
So, they must be protected with treatment and care.
Separately, I can be Rose with or without breasts,
A topic with which I have much despair.
I guess my mind is currently a happy scramble, with so many threads of thought,
I am so many things, and being called “Rose” barely scratches the surface.
There is no need to justify my name to anyone or any lot.
I finally have a name now, and it fulfills its purpose. :)
- Rose the artist formerly known as she her Pri 
~ গোলাপ্রী
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vizthedatum · 8 months
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abuse in exchange for a crisis (2023)
“You’re always in a crisis!”
And it’s true; I am.
My crisis is like a virus.
Spreading like it doesn’t give a damn.
Or is it more like arthritis?
A pain overflowing regardless of a dam.
Does its presence cause a bias?
I ask, I plead, I cry, like a broken lamb.
Is my crisis a dispensation for your abusive license?
I clarify as your words echo in my head like a battering ram.
I so wished for your love to be pious.
I honestly thought we were a fam.
I mistook your concern for niceness.
When it was nothing more than a scam.
- Rose the artist formerly known as she her Pri 
~ গোলাপ্রী
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vizthedatum · 10 months
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roseboyrose (a series, 2023)
Credit to “effeminancyboy” on Tumblr who made this roseboy pride flag free to use. :)
I redrew this flag to make the colors wavy to represent my fluidity, evolution, and flow!!! 
Happy International Non-Binary People's Day! (July 14)
I’m Rose, and I’m totally a roseboy. I identify a lot as a sapphic femboi - very gender fluid and feminine but with a lot of ties to being a boy!
In these series of pictures, I’m wearing a non-binary heart crop top with a flowy duo-tone mini-skirt - my hair is flowing out behind me because I’m magical - and both my vulva and my intromittent apparatus are roses!
Explanation from creator of the flag (and I totally vibe with it *tears up*):
“Roseboy: a soft, overly feminine boy who typically dresses in soft, flowy skirts and dresses and things of the like. Roseboys can be cis, transmasc, transfem or nonbinary, as long as theres a connection to being a boy. They can also be gay, straight, bi or any other sexuality.
Hot pink: Femininity, and how we preform it for ourselves.
Peach: Love, for ourselves and for our community.
Light pink: Softness, and how our gnc/femininity isn’t for anyone to fetishize or sexualize.
Light green: Acceptance, and how it’s not a bad thing to be a feminine boy!
Dark green: Ties to be a boy, whether we’re 100% boy or 1% boy!”
(Let me know if you want any of the prints without the Bengali signature)
- Rose the artist formerly known as she her Pri 
~ গোলাপ্রী
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vizthedatum · 10 months
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worth
Worth is immutable
A part of creation
It means that you’re valuable
No need for explanation
I think we are all a miracle
Regardless of reputation
Innately desirable
If we can let go of the placation
Go ahead and heckle
It’ll still be there after any ruination
Call me sentimental
Your worth persists with every iteration
- Rose the artist formerly known as she her Pri ~ গোলাপ্রী
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vizthedatum · 10 months
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sharp memories
I must have also left a fragment inside of you
Can you feel it like I do?
You are all stuck inside of me
Never releasing me from your facsimile
Pieces of you tear through my flesh
The pain makes it stay fresh
— ~~~ —
Sometimes when my life is in uncontrollable disarray
It frustratingly progresses even when glass shatters as a segue
I neglect to pick up the tiniest shards of broken glass on the floor
And I step into one and it all enters me raw
They never believe me in the ER when I tell them
“It’s there!” I point, ignoring the ableism
I guide them to pick it out - the minuscule particle
Finally, its visibility makes me credible
Oh, that? That little thing? 
As if its size would reduce the sharpness of its sting
My blood trickles out in confirmation
Well it’s out, and they stitch me up finishing the operation
— ~~~ —
I wish it ended there
That you’d just disappear
And… I’d be stitched up brand new
Gluing up my wound and seamlessly moving through
Instead, the pain makes me confront my truth
I’ve learned that forgetting does nothing to soothe
I’ll get stronger with time, you’ll see
Feeling you still, even when I recover my glee
- Rose the artist formerly known as she her Pri ~ গোলাপ্রী
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vizthedatum · 10 months
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How many kisses would it take? An earnest plea. Feed me silphium, and make love to me.
Something better than hing?
I would not have thought of it lest for the use of asafoetida in everything.
Did it have to smell so bad but make everything taste so good?
I guess that is how it is with food.
But what’s this? Something else that could be better?
Ancient and possibly extinct, but somehow cooler.
Silphion, silphium, laserwort - its mericarps that gave rise to the expression of love.
After all, contraception is something that man cannot be sick of.
Did it disappear due to human greed?
Or was it deemed too dangerous when control and power lie in the breed?
Or perhaps it was the incompetence of harvesting
Or early climate change that led to its ultimate cutting.
But please, someone worthy take me to Turkey forthwith
And acquire some Ferula drudeana fairly and justly with grit.
How many kisses would it take? An earnest plea.
Feed me food with silphium, and make love to me.
- Rose the artist formerly known as she her Pri
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vizthedatum · 3 months
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~ sometimes my best ~
~ needs a lot of rest ~
- Rose the artist formerly known as she her Pri
~ গোলাপ্রী
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vizthedatum · 4 months
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Resentment is a poison
It seeps in the cracks of our ill nourished love
It nestles in deep
And refuses to cease despite our efforts to shove
Shove it away
Shove it under the rug
Shove it for later
Until later comes pouring from above
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vizthedatum · 4 months
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Break into Rawness (2024)
The rawness of all my loss and the what-could-have-been makes me sob with such force that I wish "Never again!!" I know it's getting easier, but facing rawness breaks you. Your life just keeps getting busier while all the trauma wants to burst through.
The breaking isn't the worst part, even though you must let it happen. It's seeing the pieces of your heart and allowing yourself to treat yourself with compassion.
You can glue the pieces together however you'd like, but you'll wonder, “What other grief will I have to weather?” “When will the next time strike?”
The answer lies within the strength of the glue you use as frustrating as that might sound at the moment. The more adhesive you produce, then maybe the next time might not be so potent.
I'll tell you a secret that's even more frustrating to hear: It's always going to be hard. Unfortunately, grief is everywhere. But look at how you've treated your heart with such regard... Don't you think you'll be able to do that again? -Rose the artist formerly known as she her Pri
~ গোলাপ্রী
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