used to be // beach house
Book, wine, snack - all my night’s missing is sodomy.
Vincent van Gogh, Self-portrait with pipe (detail), 1886
Where is Morrissey to make obnoxious, hilarious political statement’s in a time like this?
No group of people can ‘own’ a concept, or group of ideas, no matter the significance thereof; and though certain groups may find tokens of what they consider their tarnished by a superficial fashion trend or whatever you may - get the fuck over it. Nothing is unequivocally sacred. Accusations of cultural appropriation is just over-intellectualised whining of ‘Hey, that’s mine!’ It’s bullshit.
— Carl Jung (via rabbitinthemoon)
Perhaps, as was said, what shall happen
will not come by verse; and I am expecting of
poets the quick, short-breathed kisses of Gods,
where my enduring, dutiful attention is due.
But I am nodding pillow-ward,
what matters now? Deep in the trenches
of the mind, our causes and declarations
may be shunned for a prototype peace.
If I am to dream of the firm-clenched hold
a lover takes of me, I should ask
none wake me. And only clocks of our
maintenance of Earth should rouse me;
for poetry is not of our dreams.
It is, should I be asked, the eternal Watch,
A Namer, a pure-spent voice
that by pursuit of Man, hard-fought tells
of the unreasonable seasons of Life that are
something of our Heavens and our Hells.