moonemojii: When someone lies to you but you already know the truth

Wednesday, December 5th, 2018

moonemojii:

When someone lies to you but you already know the truth

image

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/180820725732.

All We Have Is Now — SPC ECO

Thursday, November 22nd, 2018

All We Have Is Now — SPC ECO

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/180370848491.

SPC ECO – FoundAnd find a way And find your way back home Sea…

Wednesday, November 21st, 2018

SPC ECO – Found

And find a way
And find your way back home
Sea front and run down
It’s far away

And don’t be shy, I know it’s alright
I’m all over for now

When you get lost and found
And when you get lost for a noun
Like I lead you there
I will lead you there
When you get lost and found
And when you get lost for a noun
Like I lead you there
I will lead you there

And don’t be shy, I know it’s alright
Im all over for now

When you get lost and found
And when you get lost for a noun
Like I lead you there
I will lead you there
When you get lost and found
And when you get lost for a noun
Like I lead you there
I will lead you there

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/180337359909.

“And the shame was on the other side”

Wednesday, November 7th, 2018

“And the shame was on the other side”

Bowie, “Heroes”

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/179852717052.

swforester: “Lets talk of Graves, and worms and Epitaphs, Make…

Tuesday, November 6th, 2018

swforester:

“Lets talk of Graves, and worms

and Epitaphs, Make dust our

Paper and with Rainy Eyes,

Write sorrow in the bosom 

of the Earth.”

inscription on a grave

bennington vt 2016

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/179817848481.

politicalprof: “Neither let us be slandered from our duty by false accusations against us, nor…

Thursday, October 25th, 2018

politicalprof:

“Neither let us be slandered from our duty by false accusations against us, nor frightened from it by menaces of destruction to the Government nor of dungeons to ourselves. Let us have faith that right makes might, and in that faith, let us, to the end, dare to do our duty as we understand it.”

— Abraham Lincoln, “Cooper Union” speech, 1860

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/179443664173.

biggest-gaudiest-patronuses: fire-stone00: biggest-gaudiest-patronuses: writing-prompt-s: You, an…

Saturday, October 20th, 2018

biggest-gaudiest-patronuses:

fire-stone00:

biggest-gaudiest-patronuses:

writing-prompt-s:

You, an atheist, have died. All the gods that have ever been line up to offer you their version of heaven if only you believe in _them_. Turns out souls are currency and yours is up for grabs.

There are many Gods. They speak, and I am tired. A mass of voices coiling around me, each telling their own tale. They speak over one another, they talk to me, they do not listen. And I am tired.

Currency. Is this what I am to them?

They will not stop speaking. They offer me things. They will take me to my loved ones. They will gift me joy and music. They will have me serve, in their armies, in their choirs. Some tell me stories of how they made me. From clay. From nothing at all. Some tell me they love me, small as I am, that I am their creation and so their child.

Above all, they repeat their stories. They talk incessantly of their power, their battles, of the ways and reasons they are feared. How long will they talk? Time does not happen here. It is so much effort to stay. Effort to maintain. Effort to exist.

So many Gods. Gods whose names I had already heard. Modern Gods whose human disciples still speak their names. Obscure Gods whose stories were written on tablets, on scrolls, thousands of years before, whose only proof and records were discovered underground, in caves, in ancient lands. Every God there ever was. They are all here with me. They have been talking for years. They repeat their stories. Their stories are important to them. They demand, plead for my attention.

I died knowing I was dying. I died as I lived, believing in no Creator, no great demiurge, and no final salvation from death. Knowing that gods were stories we told. I believed only in the universe. That it existed before me and would continue without me.

And it has.

The voices scream their stories. Why are they so desperate for me? Despite their insistence, I know what I knew before. My truth is unchanged. My truth is of the universe, of its physics and particles, of its probable beginnings, of its possible ends. Of the simple fact of existence.

These gods are not my creator. I was created by a long line of life, of unlikely Life happening and colliding and continuing. Eons. Three, four eons, billions of years all lined up behind me, all of my predecessors, their lives and their stories, they are my chapters and I am their sum. I am the story of Life, in all its improbably glory. And gods are as old as humans, but I am as old as Life, and Life is much older.

I think I’ve solved it. I think I know why they seek us. They want what Life wants. To exist. To continue. They need their legends told, at any expense, because:

We wrote them. I said before: gods are stories that we write and tell. We are their Creators. And this is why they scream for me, for my ears, for my attention. Stories exist only so long as they are told. Gods exist only so long as they have a listener. And I know they have nothing to offer me. There are no rooms, there are no gates, there are no hallways, no crowds for me to join. They only keep me here to listen. If I accept an offer, what then? Will they stop speaking, disappointed, and leave me? Will they keep delaying? Will the god of my choice sweep in, desperate, and keep me here as long as I can be convinced?

All of my being is tired. Life is not meant to persist this long after it is through. My presence and existence, temporary from the start, is loosening and loosening. All of my pieces beg to be released. I was not made to last.

I am through. I have given these voices enough.

So I do what life does when it is finished. I dissolve, and return to the world.

Have you ever considered being a writer first and a shitposter second?

absolutely not

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/179269523575.

Genesis, “Undertow”If this were the last day of your life, my…

Wednesday, October 17th, 2018

Genesis, “Undertow”

If this were the last day of your life, my friend,
Tell me, what do you think you would do then?

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/179171888403.

virgodura: sespursongles: And speaking of Sophia Tolstoy, her diaries are just so depressing.  “I…

Wednesday, October 10th, 2018

virgodura:

sespursongles:

And speaking of Sophia Tolstoy, her diaries are just so depressing. 

I am to gratify his pleasure and nurse his child, I am a piece of household furniture, I am a woman. I try to suppress all human feelings. When the machine is working properly it heats the milk, knits a blanket, makes little requests and bustles about trying not to think […].

She wrote this when she was 19, one year into her marriage to Leo and as she was pregnant with the first of his 13 children.

A few years later, when she was 25 or so:

I am so often alone with my thoughts that the need to write in my diary comes quite naturally … Now I am well again and not pregnant—it terrifies me how often I have been in that condition. He said that for him being young meant “I can achieve anything”. For me […] reason tells me that there is nothing I either want or can do beyond nursing, eating, drinking, sleeping, and loving and caring for my husband and babies, all of which I know is happiness of a kind, but why do I feel so woeful all the time, and weep as I did yesterday? I am writing this now with the pleasantly exciting sense that nobody will ever read it, so I can be quite frank with myself […].

During her 12th pregnancy she wrote about taking scalding baths and jumping from high pieces of furniture to try and miscarry.  And at one point while reading her husband’s diary (which he told her to read) she found the sentence “There is no such thing as love, only the physical need for intercourse and the practical need for a life companion.” In her own diary she wrote “They ebb and flow like waves, these times when I realise how lonely I am and want only to cry…

A few years before her husband’s death, she published a cycle of prose poems titled “Groans”, under the pseudonym “A Tired Woman”.

the most depressing quote from her diaries:

“I have served a genius for almost forty years. Hundreds of times I have felt my intellectual energy stir within me and all sorts of desires – a longing for education, a love of music and the arts… And time and again I have crushed and smothered these longings… Everyone asks, “But why should a worthless woman like you need an intellectual or artistic life?” To this question I can only reply: “I don’t know, but eternally suppressing it to serve a genius is a great misfortune.”

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/178942644106.

“Be Better at Listening,” Pomplamoose

Wednesday, October 3rd, 2018

“Be Better at Listening,” Pomplamoose

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/178721685396.

This WorldI would like to write a poem about the world that has in itnothing fancy.But it seems…

Thursday, September 27th, 2018

This World

I would like to write a poem about the world that has in it

nothing fancy.

But it seems impossible.

Whatever the subject, the morning sun

glimmers it.

The tulip feels the heat and flaps its petals open and becomes a star.

The ants bore into the peony bud and there is a dark

pinprick well of sweetness.

As for the stones on the beach, forget it.

Each one could be set in gold.

So I tried with my eyes shut, but of course the birds

were singing.

And the aspen trees were shaking the sweetest music

out of their leaves.

And that was followed by, guess what, a momentous and

beautiful silence

as comes to all of us, in little earfuls, if we’re not too

hurried to hear it.

As for spiders, how the dew hangs in their webs

even if they say nothing, or seem to say nothing.

So fancy is the world, who knows, maybe they sing.

So fancy is the world, who knows, maybe the stars sing too,

and the ants, and the peonies, and the warm stones,

so happy to be where they are, on the beach, instead of being

locked up in gold.

– Mary Oliver

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/178535215940.

Photo

Wednesday, September 19th, 2018


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Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/178273313355.

cendaya: Zendaya on whether ignorance is truly bliss

Monday, September 17th, 2018

cendaya:

Zendaya on whether ignorance is truly bliss

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/178172022815.

Remove yourself from the pastWherever you are you don’t…

Wednesday, September 5th, 2018

Remove yourself from the past
Wherever you are you don’t have to stay

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/177793732041.

studyblr:prove them wrong.

Friday, August 24th, 2018

studyblr:

prove them wrong.

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/177368032196.

dendroica: “Life is tragic simply because the earth turns and the sun inexorably rises and sets,…

Saturday, July 28th, 2018

dendroica:

“Life is tragic simply because the earth turns and the sun inexorably rises and sets, and one day, for each of us, the sun will go down for the last, last time. Perhaps the whole root of our trouble, the human trouble, is that we will sacrifice all the beauty of our lives, will imprison ourselves in totems, taboos, crosses, blood sacrifices, steeples, mosques, races, armies, flags, nations, in order to deny the fact of death, which is the only fact we have. It seems to me that one ought to rejoice in the fact of death– ought to decide, indeed, to earn one’s death by confronting with passion the conundrum of life. One is responsible to life: It is the small beacon in that terrifying darkness from which we come and to which we shall return. One must negotiate this passage as nobly as possible, for the sake of those who are coming after us. But white Americans do not believe in death, and this is why the darkness of my skin so intimidates them.”

— James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time (via bonesache)

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/176399005026.

trainthief: idroolinmysleep: Aaron Copland, Fanfare for the…

Thursday, July 26th, 2018

trainthief:

idroolinmysleep:

Aaron Copland, Fanfare for the Common Man, London Symphony Orchestra, Aaron Copland, cond.

Just found out one of my favorite composers of all time and everyone’s go-to for the classic American sound was gay and Jewish! Hope you’re all having as good a day as me. 

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/176329105405.

Inspired by the sight of Bowie’s producer/engineer Tony…

Wednesday, July 25th, 2018

Inspired by the sight of Bowie’s producer/engineer Tony Visconti embracing one of Bowie’s backing vocalists by the Berlin Wall, the song tells the story of two lovers, one from East and one from West Berlin. Bowie’s performance of “Heroes” on June 6, 1987 at the German Reichstag in West Berlin was considered a catalyst to the eventual fall of the Berlin Wall.[4][5][6] Following Bowie’s death in January 2016, the German government thanked Bowie for “helping to bring down the Wall”, adding “you are now among Heroes”.[7]

“Heroes” (David Bowie song), Wikipedia

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/176293068755.

bericdondarrion: “When we are asleep in this world, we are awake in another.” — Salvador Dalí

Wednesday, July 18th, 2018

bericdondarrion:

“When we are asleep in this world, we are awake in another.”

Salvador Dalí

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/176048114089.

gayred5: gracetowns: romeo and juliet (1.4) – william…

Saturday, July 14th, 2018

gayred5:

gracetowns:

romeo and juliet (1.4) – william shakespeare

romeo: i had this intense af dream last night bro
mercutio: oh so did i
romeo: what did u dream dude
mercutio: that ur full of shit

Reposted from http://lies.tumblr.com/post/175873691349.