play it cool, text me when you walk out

adele-rolling in the deep (jamie xx remix) ft. childish gambino

found poem

by Mike Essig




The days piled up too high and then collapsed.
Everything was sadder than it used to be.
What we are concerned with here is unhappiness.
It is not a question of enlightenment, but recognition,


that chameleon of vapid, disinterested change.
What does it all come down to in the end?
Feeling furtive needs isn't living;
you weary of feeding your needy, mammal body.
We must extricate ourselves from this repugnant spectacle.


The gates of the world open and close to no end.
The cosmos uses your own voice to complain.
The summit sings what is spoken in the depths.
The boulevards of your brain become smaller.
The wars are far away and oddly peaceful.
The lamps we light at dusk are for nothing.


I found this poem in the flea market of old words,
paid for it with the sorry shards of my memories,
and offer it to oblivion with whatever else I have stolen.
Consider it a final toast to everything that didn't happen.

carver

by Neil Hilborn




 

Accordin to our maps
we were more than halfway there. 
My hands were frozen into claws 
around the climbing rope. The cold 
was crawlin into my legs, bitin me 
through my clothes, and I just knew
that if I let go I’d slide all the way down the mountain 
back to New York. Shiverin in the cold I opened my eyes 
and all there was was that rope 
disappearin into the blizzard. 
   
Let me take you back three years. 
I was workin for Sam Carver, 
puttin up posters for his speeches: 
Sam Carver! Adventurer Extraordinare! 
Has seen all known continents of the world! Now, 
Mr. Carver said that Americans had a right to everything 
to the West of us–he called it Manifest Destiny 
and I just couldn’t get it out of my head 
like it was a hymn to the lord and Sam was the mouth of God, sayin 
“Go west, my son. Go west.”

So when Mr. Carver said he was going to California, 
I told him I was the kind of woodsman 
that could chop down a tree with a stick and a sharp rock. Hell, 
I could start a fire with a piece of wood and some wet moss. 
Y'see, I grew up in the mountains of Kentucky 
where just breathin is like pullin a tornado into your lungs 
and spittin out the debris, where sunset is like all the gunpowder in the world 
goin off in reverse on the horizon. 
Mr. Carver said the sunsets in California 
were like the Pacific closin its eyes, and when he talked 
the distances collapsed until China coulda been as close as Baltimore 
and he talked all the way from the eastern seaboard, 
shrinkin the Great Plains into a patch of dirt under our feet.

Accordin to our maps we were more than halfway there 
when Sam said that God spoke to him, 
told him to turn south, turn south. 
Some of us thought we was goin the wrong way, 
especially when we started climbin that mountain, 
but he just kept repeatin: “South. We’ve got to go south.” 
And I’d'a trusted that man as long as I still had teeth in my head, 

but then there was that rope, disappearin into the blizzard. 
Manuel yelled back through the snow: 
“Richard! There’s blood coming out of my shoes!” 
I ripped off his boots and his feet were rottin 
from the bottom up, burnt black like firewood 
with coals glowin in the center. He asked us to shoot him right there, 
but a Christian man can’t kill no one, so we built him a fire and just left him there.

I was leanin back on the rope, 
pullin Johnson up an ice shelf, 
but when he came up over the lip his leg snapped. 
I ran up to Carver and said “Charles’s leg damn near broke off!” 
but all he said was “Well, 
he’ll just have to get it put back on when we get to California.”

Then the meat ran out. 
I caught myself starin at McNabb as he laid down in the snow. 
I’d never been so hungry. 
When Sam smiled I saw the gates of heaven clangin shut 
and he said providence wanted us to eat, 
wanted us to have this 
and we bit into his raw and frozen thighs 
and his blood tasted like every single word of Manifest Destiny 
spit out in a howl from the devil. 

The last thing I saw before I passed out was Carver, 
headin west, with two human legs slung over his shoulder. 
He was just whistlin, walkin to California.

alone with everybody

by Charles Bukowski




the flesh covers the bone 
and they put a mind 
in there and 
sometimes a soul, 
and the women break 
vases against the walls 
and the men drink too 
much 
and nobody finds the 
one 
but keep 
looking 
crawling in and out 
of beds. 
flesh covers 
the bone and the 
flesh searches 
for more than 
flesh. 

there's no chance 
at all: 
we are all trapped 
by a singular 
fate. 

nobody ever finds 
the one. 

the city dumps fill 
the junkyards fill 
the madhouses fill 
the hospitals fill 
the graveyards fill 

nothing else 
fills. 

swimming pool full of liquor then you diveee

Kendrick freakin Lamar- Swimming Pools

archangel

burial-archangel

deadliest gang in russia

                                                                               

Brb installing dashcam on my bike :D

awesome!

His poem are so freaking long. In fact the whole talk itself consists of two poems! How the fuck nevermind. this guy is really really good tho

we depend on you

porter robinson- sad machine

the more loving one

by Wystan Hugh Auden

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us, we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,

I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

worth while

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox





It is easy enough to be pleasant
  When life flows by like a song,
But the man worth while is the one who will smile
  When everything goes dead wrong.
For the test of the heart is trouble,
  And it always comes with the years,
And the smile that is worth the praises of earth
  Is the smile that shines through tears.

It is easy enough to be prudent
   When nothing tempts you to stray,
When without or within no voice of sin
   Is luring your soul away;
But it’s only a negative virtue
   Until it is tried by fire,
And the life that is worth the honour on earth
   Is the one that resists desire.

By the cynic, the sad, the fallen,
   Who had no strength for the strife,
The world’s highway is cumbered to-day—
   They make up the sum of life;
But the virtue that conquers passion,
   And the sorrow that hides in a smile—
It is these that are worth the homage on earth,
   For we find them but once in a while.

surrender

billy talent-surrender

once upon a time

rise against- this is letting go