install theme

A Dose of Strange

therosesign:

The light drew
A line for me to follow.
It turned into a cross.
Then unfolded its arms
And darted upwards
To meet the light lines
Of a million others
Who may or may not
Have found the key
To the pattern
Of our underlying
Existence.

~Nanaya

, #reblog #poetry

A Play of Illusions

We were like a camp fire
Asleep and burning
Within fantasies.
That’s what made us
Foolishly dangerous.
We bit whoever
Dared to wake us up
From the warmth
Of degenerating passion.

~Nanaya

, #poetry #creative writing

Heart’s Lore

therosesign:

The golden fire
Djinn know where
All the wells lie
In the desert.

Secrets seek
Their eyes that
Offer the unknown
The solace of knowing.

~Nanaya

, #reblog #poetry

The Cure has Gone Wild

Poison leads
To more poison.
Then into a revolution
Of expression that spits
Truth like fire.

Weighed down
By the absorption
Of bullshit, but still
Believe in alchemy
So I make gold
Out of sick wounds.

~Nanaya

, #poetry #creative writing #poison
givemesomesoma:

Matteo di Giovanni
 St. Bartholomew holding his own skin
ca. 1480




This speaks to me on so many levels…A few minutes ago, I wrote in my journal how ‘I want to come out of my own skin.’

givemesomesoma:

Matteo di Giovanni

St. Bartholomew holding his own skin

ca. 1480

This speaks to me on so many levels…A few minutes ago, I wrote in my journal how ‘I want to come out of my own skin.’

(Source: deathandmysticism)

I sometimes hold that a poem…is a person, a living human being, belonging in bodily presence and real fleshly existence to another world, into which our imagination throws him, his aspect to us, as we read him in this world being no more than the imperfect shadow of that reality of beauty that is divine elsewhere.

- Fernando Pessoa + (via mythologyofblue)
, #yes

Flame to Wind

therosesign:

We were only
Able to lit candles
After the passing flood
Left us longing for a sun
That would swallow death
Swiftly like…smoke.

Has our wish
Been heard?

~Nanaya

, #reblog #poetry
^