a study of the soul:
My hands
have forgotten
how to turn themselves
into poetry.

A.Y // a stutter of the heart
August 22, 2014
277 notes
filed under: (YO IDK IF U WANNA CALL THIS STATE I'M IN A WRITER'S BLOCK)(OR IF IT'S JUST PLAIN OLD SELF DOUBT)(BUT IT'S SHIT AND I WANT OUT)(my writing)(26)
Anonymous asked: Do you have any books of poetry or poets you'd recommend? :)

I recently read and fell in love with sarah kay’s latest book of poems called “no matter the wreckage” :-)

Anonymous asked: You should sell more poems on ur etsy

My friends and i have actually been planning/working on a little project involving my typewriter series poems!! That’s if i can get my shit together and start working on it :~)

Anonymous asked: Hello Anthea, I hope you are well. I wanted, no. I had to tell you how amazing you are. Every single word of yours, all your replies to the asks, and everything has such a distinct beauty that it draws me in. I find myself using your phrases so often. You are incredible, I hope you never ever forget that. Have a very nice day and even nicer life. Love.

shhh my darling dearest, come here; you’re melting my heart, let’s just stay like this for a while. 

Typewriter Series #136

August 20, 2014
740 notes
filed under: (my writing)(typewriter)

11:02 PM // 11:20 PM

I feel like i haven’t been myself lately. Whoever that is. There are moments in the day where i’ll catch myself staring at a wall or in the mirror and i’ll suddenly be surround with this air of unfamiliarity. It’s an odd feeling because i feel like i am consciously aware of the unfamiliarity of my entire existence. I have been feeling uneasy. For a whole week, all i could feel was white noise underneath my skin. You know that feeling when something bad is about to happen and you can’t explain it except for this tingling sensation in your hands? A whole week. And i prepared myself for the worst because i have learnt over and over and over again that all good things must come to an end. I practiced fire drills in my head, memorised prayers for the broken, learnt how to resuscitate myself back to life. So here i am. A brick gets knocked out of place and everything crumbles down. But i refuse to believe that this is the end. This is only an end, which means there will be another beginning. Another moment of clarity amongst the dust. A fresh of breath air in a cloud of smoke. And i’ll start again from there.

August 18, 2014
145 notes
filed under: (man life is weird)(and death is inevitable)(and i have to go to sleep)(anthea)

// bye //

August 18, 2014
230 notes
filed under: (also i have missed doing these handwritten posts)(my writing)(journal excerpts)(??)

two steps forward and one step back is still progress. i’m still moving forward, that’s what matters.

August 18, 2014
123 notes
filed under: (progress no matter how slow is still progress)(i have to keep telling myself this)(otherwise i'm going 2 self-combust)
Anonymous asked: what kind of people are you drawn towards?

commovente:

there are a lot of people who want things from one another, who want to take parts of each other and claim them as their own. it’s draining, like you’re being hollowed out slowly, slowly, burned out and carved into a boat for their use. but there are few people, there are a handful of people who i have met in this life, who i have loved and who have loved me so symbiotically. it’s not a matter of who i am drawn to. to build a criteria for my ideal whatever would be to narrow the choices down to what i know, and leave out all the rest of what i have to learn, what i have yet to see in a person. but passion. passion! the terrible and wonderful desire to be bigger than oneself, to leave a mark, however small, on this earth. i love those who are always running, who are full of movement, who appreciate those empty streets at five a.m., those who i can call up for an adventure and they’re always down. bring me to your beautiful places. to your mountain peaks. to the places you grew up. and let me do the same for you, and understand that it’s important, all of it, not so much the stories that we tell each other but the ways we tell them, the ways we move together, yes. fucking dance with me, dude. climb to the top of things with me and see what kind of open sky we can find together. find meaning in everything, and i’ll love you. i’m not very good at people. i mean, in a very shallow plane i am. i’m good at instant things, good at touch-and-go, at making a brief and wonderful impact and then running the other way, laughing, but there are those who get it, and who will stand still with me in a moment and just look out, together, at this world, and it’s like, sometimes you meet a person and you can just feel it, this connection between the two of you. like the air between you is thicker in a way. it makes me so nervous and i crave it, i crave it endlessly. it’s happened a lot lately, and i’m grateful for it. and you can’t explain it, really, but you feel it in your heart so deeply that it must be real, right?  there are so many kinds of people in this world, so many colors of humans that i have yet to experience. i fill my life with people whose colors eddy with mine in such a way that we create a new color between us, a color that can’t be replicated with any other. good people, kind people, hardworking who are in tune with the pulse of things, who can talk me into a frenzy, who don’t shy away from their hurt, but who let it deepen their sense of being, who will look me in the eye without either of us turning away. the crazy ones. the ones who make me shy. the ones who make me small and then large, who stretch my boundaries. the ones who are so loved, but so difficult to understand. the ones who are not afraid to tell me i’m wrong, who will fight for what they believe in, who will not let me walk all over them, because i can. i have been dehumanized - and so many of you have been dehumanized by people who think of us as ideas instead of flesh, who aren’t willing to look at the same stone from a different angle. keep it real. keep it real with me, and if we can create new stories together instead of just retelling the ones of our past, if we can move through our ideas and put them into action, if we can move, together, then yes. you are in my heart. you are in my heart, you are.

August 17, 2014
645 notes
filed under: (i have so much love in my heart)(my oh my oh my)
Via: commovente

ologyjournal:

ol·o·gy -

  •  n. pl. ol·o·gies Informal: A branch of learning.

"Accordingly, the scientist and the poet seem to us to be perpetually at odds. To the poet, the scientist seems unimaginative and literal-minded — with his head buried in the ground of facts, incapable of comprehending the larger significance of what he does. To the scientist, the poet seems to have his head up in the clouds, indulging in fantastic visions of what might be and losing sight of the way things really are." - Paul A. Cantor

To the reader: we’re amalgamating the poet and the scientist. We’re opening the door for unpublished writers and artists to merge into writing + publishing society through our online literary journal, which is, as a bonus, hosted through Tumblr! 

Now accepting submissions, either through our submissions manager or through our email, at ology.journal@gmail.com. (Please read submission guidelines first.)

Go social: Twitter | Tumblr/Website 

We are the artists, the dreamers, the makers. Let’s do something noteworthy.

August 17, 2014
148 notes
filed under: (!!!)
I’ve been working
on a disappearing act:

1. I’m going to turn myself into
words on paper —
everything I didn’t know
how to say, every
sentence that got
stuck in my throat.

2. Strike a match and
let it kiss
my paper body
made up of
my paper dreams.

3. I will
disintegrate back
into the universe
and carry myself
with the wind. I will
turn into a thousand pieces of
What Could Have Been; vanish
and become the smoke
that makes up
your hazy past.

4. You’re going to
lose sight of me and
you’re going to forget.
But I hope every once
in a while, when you watch
the sun set, you’ll
find me there.

A.Y // a disappearing act for a paper heart girl 
August 16, 2014
504 notes
filed under: (goddamn it's been a while hey)(i love you guys A LOT)(my writing)(26)
Anonymous asked: You are the light of a comet, the passing mystery of the universe that I watch idly from my space among the stars. You move as if in a dance, one as ancient as my soul, and leave a trailing wake of dreams and hopes behind you. I have seen you so many times, but every time I see you, I see the universe anew. I hope one day to be the light you find familiar, a point in which your path has crossed before, as I pin my wish onto you, my shooting star.

oh. 

August 15, 2014
55 notes
filed under: (ask)(anonymous)

Typewriter Series #135

August 15, 2014
509 notes
filed under: (blah blah blah)(sorry i'm a shit)(typewriter)(my writing)

a gentle reminder that we officially have a website for -ology and are open for submissions! head over to our site for info on what we’re all about and submission guidelines. the theme for issue one is alethiology: the study of the nature of truth (take it as you will), and we’d love for you to share your thoughts and words with us! thank you for your love / support so far, these are exciting times!

August 13, 2014
9 notes
filed under: (thank u love u)(ology journal)

i am tired

and

nostalgic for something that hasn’t ended yet.

August 13, 2014
121 notes
filed under: (still have this funny feeling in my chest)(it's been a week)(stay tuned for more)(anthea)
(n.b.)