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dichotomized: This poem, often attributed to an anonymous Native American, was actually written by Baltimore housewife Mary Frye in 1932. Mary was moved by the grief of a young Jewish woman staying with them whose mother fell ill and died in Germany.

Liked on YouTube: “Einar Selvik - Snake Pit Poetry (Ragnar’s Death Song Vikings Official)” https://youtu.be/d-KmqG_beNY

ellsworthsmelly: tooombz: Felix Gonzalez-TorresUntitled (Perfect Lovers) 1991. Clocks, paint on wall. Untitled (Perfect Lovers) consists of two clocks, which start in synchronisation, and slowly, inevitably fall out of time due to the failure of the

baseballcardvandals: I really do. Own this BCV Original.

Odin - King of the Norse Gods, God of poetry, battle and death. Chief god of the Aesir. Also known as the “all-father”, the “terrible one”, “one-eyed” and “father of battle”.

arkapatra: Death of love From the series- do not go to the garden of flowers. Featured in the @currymagazine (Grab your copy) https://arkapatra.tumblr.com/Do_not_go_to_the_garden_of_flowers #poetry #kabir #religion #roses #men #body #flowers #peace

visual-poetry: »with you inside me comes the knowledge of my death« by jenny holzer (+)

visual-poetry: »test« by mark flood (+)

visual-poetry:»raise boys and girls the same way« by jenny holzer (+)

visual-poetry: by neil faber & michael dumontierfrom the last billboard project by john rubin

visual-poetry:»this text is a painting« by sona safaei

visual-poetry: »untitled or: confessions of a post-post modernist« by benjamin carrick (+) [via]

visual-poetry: “learning never exhausts the mind.” — leonardo da vinci

hypnagogic-logic: “That’s what I do: I make coffee and occasionally succumb to suicidal nihilism. But you shouldn’t worry — poetry is still first. Cigarettes and alcohol follow.”— Anne Sexton

sadgirlophelia: i like art, and by art i mean music, poetry, sex, paintings, the human body, literature. all of this is art to me

japanese-poetry: “Yasurafadenenamasi mono wosayo fuketekatabuku made notuki wo misi ka na” I should have gone to bed without hesitating, but as the night progressed, oh, I still watched the moon till it tilted. (Courtlady Aka-zome Emon, Hyakunin isshu

11-9n: “What part of yourself did you have to destroy in order to survive in the world this year? But most importantly: what have you found to be unkillable?” — Arabelle Sicardi, from “The Year in Ugliness,” published in The Poetry Project

hypnagogic-logic: “That’s what I do: I make coffee and occasionally succumb to suicidal nihilism. But you shouldn’t worry — poetry is still first. Cigarettes and alcohol follow.”— Anne Sexton

hypnagogic-logic:“That’s what I do: I make coffee and occasionally succumb to suicidal nihilism. But you shouldn’t worry — poetry is still first. Cigarettes and alcohol follow.”— Anne Sexton

visual-poetry:»reality« by alexandre farto aka vhils

visual-poetry: by mobstr (+)[via]

visual-poetry: »ideally everything will turn quiet now« by laure prouvost (+) [via]

kontroverzno:James Dean reading poetry, 1955

visual-poetry: “the price of a work of art is now part of its function, its new job is to sit on the wall and get more expensive… suppose that every worthwhile book in the world cost ũm — imagine what a catastrophic effect on culture that would

visual-poetry: »where?« by anatol knotek[ homepage | tumblr | twitter ]

visual-poetry: »everything and nothing« by brian rea[via]

visual-poetry: by ben skinner (+)

visual-poetry: puppies puppies (jade kuriki olivo) at balice hertling

visual-poetry: by ryan carl

visual-poetry: »this is how i have chosen« by david shrigley (+)

visual-poetry: »i loved you« by richie culver

visual-poetry:»the ones you have lost push you gently forward« by india k

visual-poetry:»forever« by alicia eggert (+)

metaphorformetaphor: “I am overcome with the strangest anxiety as if I’ve left myself somewhere in the world.” — Shahrouz Rashid, from “Letter to Father,” Belonging: New Poetry by Iranians Around the World (North Atlantic Books, 2008)

dostevsky: “We do lose what we never had. Because we imagine.” — Beckian Fritz Goldberg, “Eros in His Stripped Shirt”, in Poetry from Sojourner: A Feminist Anthology

garadinervi: A. V. Harrison, from This Series, 1970-75, in ABC, Edited by Jeremy Adler, The National Poetry Centre, London, 1975, Edition of 200

thedeathofcool: …and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough 👁 @bluesnapper 🖊 Vincent van Goghhttps://www.instagram.com/p/CBPwGrLlkW0/?igshid=1ojlmo7itucjn

yidan: “We do lose what we never had. Because we imagine.” — Beckian Fritz Goldberg, “Eros in His Stripped Shirt”, in Poetry from Sojourner: A Feminist Anthology

visual-poetry:“the beginning of the war will be secret” by jenny holzer

visual-poetry: by todd norsten (+)

visual-poetry: by david foggo (+)[via]

visual-poetry: “one day i will find the right words, and they will be simple.” — jack kerouac

visual-poetry: by darren almond (+) [via]

visual-poetry: “a painting in a museum hears more ridiculous opinions than anything else in the world.” — edmond de goncourt

visual-poetry: by richie culver (+)

visual-poetry: »writings« by laurent lacotte

visual-poetry: by gabor toth[via]

visual-poetry: »is my body public?« by alicia framis

poetryatmost:“I didn’t tell him when his words kicked a hole in my chest. I just kept on breathing like I wasn’t losing air. I just kept on loving him like it wasn’t killing me.” — Poetry At Most

weltenwellen:Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry

weltenwellen:Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry

hypnagogic-logic:“That’s what I do: I make coffee and occasionally succumb to suicidal nihilism. But you shouldn’t worry — poetry is still first. Cigarettes and alcohol follow.”— Anne Sexton

The Hunted Girl by Dara Scully

Blood runs down my hands after the razors dance. An elegant waltz across the veins in my wrists. I dressed my skin in a royal dress, flowing red & delicate. Like my fading eyes. Death walked up took my hand, & we danced till the moon came crashing

Photo: Grave by Beyzayildirim77 http://beyzayildirim77.deviantart.com/art/grave-198362417 Death whispers softly in my ear, Singing a sweet melody only I hear. It calls to me, politely with calming peace, Oh what a proposition of terminal release.

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