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#hashtag for poets
eyesofhellabore · 1 year
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He Wears Dirt
There's a little creature
In the yard
Working hard summers
Building forts
Landlord's sun
Using scraps 
To build his hobo city oasis
Landlord's child taken up to two rivers
In cold Michigan water
Building sand castles
Father's round point spade
Father's drain spade
Quickly they learn
They're much better tools
Than the square point
He forgets to feed them
No breakfast
No lunch
Now 3 pm
Finding a random sub place
Chow down
Landlord's child 
A yes ma'am,  yes sir kid,
Unfortunately,
Way too sensitive
Way to timid
A bit too dense
And silly
A bit too much soul
For this father
Landlord's son
Gets tired
Of hiding under the dresser
And lacing his journals and papers
With wishes to cross lake michigan
To where the horizon meets nothing
Landlord's son’s sun
Grows darker
As son realizes
His father is no better a parent
Than his father was,
An abuser
Father's child is tired
Lacing hatchings
Landlord's son is tired
Nights numb and silent
Aftermath of thunder
Broken man of glass
Pouring addiction all over himself
Landlord's son is tired
Making his forts of joy in deep echoing woods
They start to look less of forts
And more of insanity
Landlord's son 
is getting lost in the maze of trees
That claw to the sky
He is weaving this cloth of mud and riverbank grass
His eyes hollow
Wendigo eyes
Knitting fine clothes
Of dirt
landlord calling
Calling when time to be soft most needed,
raging
With threats and anger
As though hatred bellows would beckon a deer
From hiding
Landlord's son is wearing dirt
The finest ever seen
Landlord son is one with
The evergreen
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western-fence-lizard · 8 months
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rah rah healing from trauma etc (wip)
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imfullofworms · 1 year
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Somewhere between sleep and slumber
I stumbled, like a suspicious lover, on my mind
Counting—
                                1
                                  2
                                  1
                                2
                              1
                            2
                             1
                                2
                                    1
Horror a haymaker, struck me awake
They weren't just numbers; a finger's rhythm
Idly tracing the ghost of your spine
by me :)
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diaryofsheets · 5 months
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January 5, 2023
As it turns out, to avoid sadness is also to avoid LOVE.
Sadness lingered like a heavy coat i wore for years, unsure how to shed it. I hoped it would vanish on its own, thinking happiness should replace it effortlessly. But as they say, 'without darkness, there is no understanding of light' and 'without sadness, happiness remains a mystery.'
At first, I fled from sadness, cursing fate, pleading into the cosmic void to rid me of it. But in that pursuit, I lost touch with happiness, so I surrendered to despair, cocooned myself within its embrace, seeking solace in its shadows. I suffocated, submerged, crying out so loud but no one's heard a thing. I died, only to inhale a rebirth.
In that abyss, I discovered- i am pathetically intense. I feel everything deeply. It is overwhelming but I found beauty in it. I realised i possess the incredible power to feel. Once immersed in darkness, now i exhale light. Once consumed by pain, now i brim with LOVE.
~ diaryofsheets
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okay wait stop. okay wait for me, okay just- (steps around my mountains of garbage and slime)
Listen we all love Malorn Ashthorn (as we fuckin' should) but I just realized. okay, just how much undeserved mess that poor blessed soul went through
Like okay think about it for a second. He's introduced early on in the first arc as Malistaire's former top student and now impromptu Death Professor at Ravenwood, okay so we all know that. But the implications man. The implications, I didn't think about the IMPLICATIONS.
He's like this 12 year old kid, okay. Already even BEFORE his official appearance in the game, imagine being a straight A student, one of the very best (to the point where it's noted and revered amongst the other professors AND your fellow students), under THE Malistaire Drake, who, even before his villain arc, was also one of the most esteemed and powerful Death professors ever. Like I couldn't even keep a C in school that shit must be wild
AND THEN. And then, your professor literally commits several war crimes, causes irreversible damage and trauma, and becomes a national criminal against.... the universe???? Like Malistaite commits heinous terrible shit, and sinks the entire Death School along with him. And then it falls to Malorn Ashthorn, once again who's like a teenager, to PICK UP THE METAPHORICAL PIECES because he had no choice. He was literally the only candidate to fill in Malistaire's place, a legend turned monster, to teach and guide GENERATIONS of new children that are HIS AGE or even OLDER THAN Malorn is.
And then the actual changes in the school. Malorn, former student, now has to learn how to become a professor with his limited knowledge of Death Magic. Like imagine filling in for the college astrophysicist teacher when you've only graduated 6th grade. He has to change his SCHEDULE, from waking up early as a student to get up and get ready even EARLIER as a professor to prepare the classes HE comes up with. Not to mention late nights grading hundreds of papers from multiple students??? AND he either is the ONLY tutor (which means more overtime and work for him, to personally help individual students with different Death lessons), or he has to actually call upon help from other students to help him get his job done.
And then there's like the relationship aspect of it. Malorn is literally just a child, like any other student, but adopting a role as a professor, an adult, means that he also has to adopt a certain mindset. Malorn literally HAS to be patient, HAS to be guiding and nurturing, HAS to be the adult in every situation in order to be a GOOD professor. Malorn has to train hard not only in magic to be ahead of the others in order to teach them properly, but has to retrain his mindset to be ABLE to handle to teach properly. Like you can't be a regular tween teaching other tweens.
And then it's just the pressure after that. The PRESSURE GUYS, of not only living up to one of the most talented and accomplished the school has ever seen, but deal with the fact that the very same person also became a tyrant and war criminal and left Malorn, his most promised student, in his place. Like I could easily imagine the rumors, the judgement, and the fear surrounding that boy, wondering if he would ever turn out to be the same as Malistaire.
No one asked for this. This soap opera I mean, nobody asked me about Malorn Ashthorn or this long ass post but I don't care because I'm crying. Girls I'm crying my entire bed is wet with tears of despair and snot. Malorn is literally a sweetie oh my God he does not, and never will deserve this shit I'm so sorry honey. Sweetie Malorn baby I'm so fuckign sorry, i'm so so sorry,
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Were you aware
Of how much you were hurting me?
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lynxiecrafter · 6 months
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If I were to hypothetically write a Dead Poet Society fanfic for the Christmas season what would y’all want to see in it? 👀👀👀
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dailymarie · 4 months
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DAY TWO
shes so cute... i love this art so much i need to finish q2
1-31-24
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dead Poets Society (1989) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Todd Anderson/Neil Perry, Charlie Dalton/Steven Meeks Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Neil Perry (Dead Poets Society) Lives, Neil Perry has bipolar, Discussion of suicidal ideation, Medication Summary:
“I don’t know what to do. He’s been gone all day. I just- He might listen to you.” “I’ll be over as soon as I can. Let me talk to Steven real quick, then I’ll be on my way.” “Thank you.”
Neil is off his bipolar meds. He doesn't think it's obvious, but Todd is worried. To be better, you have to want to get better. Charlie comes to help and gives Neil a talk he sorely needs.
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zuschauerblog · 4 months
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find it quite funny how, in order to express nothing, you must explain everything. paradox written in the margins of books and the on lines of my journals; how i am made up of the silence in between my heartbeats; this non-expression i'm circling with description,
grasping but never gripping.
i look to this vast existence:
the heavens sprouting from the ground; into my flesh; into the stars. it is infinite.
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anti-romanticerisfly · 8 months
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#I'mNotLazyI'mProductiveAtOtherThings
~ Nemo
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adalu38 · 6 months
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Daydreaming about watching classic who and holding hands with someone while we wait for our cookies to finish baking. Perhaps bread even. Wouldn't that be wonderful..
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Hashtag Haiku: "Boom" #Capitalism! #SnowFreezesOver(Again) #YesRuby'sSpecial
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imfullofworms · 1 year
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by me :) If you get shot with an arrow, Cupid's or otherwise, the first thing they do is pull it out, then dress the wound!
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diaryofsheets · 28 days
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Dear Taylor,
Though you may not come across this message, I want to express my heartfelt gratitude for "The Tortured Poets Department" and especially for the song "The Prophecy." Since the album's release, I've been immersing myself in this song, playing it on repeat through my earphones. As someone who hasn't been in a relationship for five years and witnessing others find what I long for, this song resonates deeply within me, piercing through to my core. There are moments when I wonder if you've somehow tapped into my innermost thoughts to craft this masterpiece. Listening to it transports me back to days when I pleaded with the heavens on my knees for a soulmate to enter my life. I could write volumes about the impact this song has had on me, despite not being a literary student. But words fall short in expressing my gratitude. Thank you, Taylor, for continually changing lives with your music. I adore you beyond measure, love you to the moon and to Saturn.
@taylorswift @taylornation
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73647e · 1 year
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proud supporter of the nico di angelo artist pipeline. that boy is a writer if i ever did see one.
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