messed-up rhymes, jumbled lines

apoetreflects:

“When you use the word ‘flummox,’ for instance, your tongue is rolling across the same territory of every person who has ever spoken that word. It carries every sentiment every person has ever meant when speaking that word, plus your own. They say that every third breath you breathe contains at…

Remember this kid from Stuart Little? Reblog and click the picture to see him now.

heyfunniest:

Bored? Click here and you’ll be entertained.

(Source: michael-saunders)

the-absolute-best-posts:

 Submitted by easycome-easy-go

Follow this blog, you will love it on your dashboard

lilyandthegiantsquid:

CAN WE ALL JUST APPRECIATE POTTER’S HAIR IN THIS

THIS IS HARRY’S HAIR, NOT THE SHIT DO’S HE HAD IN THE OTHER MOVIES

HE IS HARRY POTTER HERE

BLACK MESSY STICKING UP IN EVERY DIRECTION HAIR

RIGHT HERE

(Source: listenlikespring)

fuckyeahpoetry:

Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook.
Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication.
Not the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the…

Chiaroscuro

As the last faint glimmer of sunlight

dissapears from the horizon,

we are filled with this unexplainable dread.

We turn the bulbs on

but still,

there seem to be so many corners

still begging for light. Now,

It is night

and the secret elements

told to shelter in its brooding shadows

 are playing their games-

We feel their invisible laughter,

the silent reverberation of their footsteps

bouncing off walls

and echoing through the dark.

A certain heaviness creeps in 

and burrows through skin.

Our bones shiver and

Suddenly rattle in fear.

 In this endless void 

that seems to stretch through time,

We crave for more light,

More light.

Yet sometimes,

 it is better this way:

that this dark shroud is around,

that there are still secrets untold.

Light exposes too much truth

and there are some truths

better not discovered.

-2011

eatsleepdraw:

A while back I sent a very unfinished version of this painting, and I realized I never posted the final product. This was my first portrait!

If you wanna see more of my “firsts” with art click the photo. Thanks for the inspiration juice people

someday when i’m braver i’ll paint faces..

thereisafish:

You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.

And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.

And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.

And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.

• Aaron Freeman

(Source: NPR)

ahuntersheart:

I’ve always wanted to begin a poem
with the line, “I’ve always wanted
to begin.” Now I have. Best to end here,

but then the universe is expanding
back into its black beginnings,
and space, aware of its own looming demise,

is singing of possibilities. I’m almost over, it sings,
it’s almost over…

wow!