poetry

poetry

Women who focus on style over substance usually find themselves in a big fucking hole, with other men who want to fuck the hole. Oh so smooth, and none sophistacted. Because, you know, how sophisticated can hole-fucking really be

Women who focus on style over substance usually find themselves in a big fucking hole, with other men who want to fuck the hole. Oh so smooth, and none sophistacted. Because, you know, how sophisticated can hole-fucking really be

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie,That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie,That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

To those who abuse: the sin is yours, the crime is yours, and the shame is yours. To those who protect the perpetrators: blaming the victims only masks the evil within, making you as guilty as those who abuse. Stand up for the innocent or go down with the rest.

To those who abuse: the sin is yours, the crime is yours, and the shame is yours. To those who protect the perpetrators: blaming the victims only masks the evil within, making you as guilty as those who abuse. Stand up for the innocent or go down with the rest.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

And would it have been worth it, after all,Would it have been worth while,After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor - And this, and so much more? -

And would it have been worth it, after all,Would it have been worth while,After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor - And this, and so much more? -

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Winter solitude-in a world of one colourthe sound of the wind.

Winter solitude-in a world of one colourthe sound of the wind.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

I am terrified by this dark thingThat sleeps in me;All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

I am terrified by this dark thingThat sleeps in me;All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Poetry puts starch in your backbone so you can stand, so you can compose your life.

Poetry puts starch in your backbone so you can stand, so you can compose your life.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

HereI'm here-the snow falling.

HereI'm here-the snow falling.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

You will recognize your own path when you come upon it because you will suddenly have all the energy and imagination you will ever need.

You will recognize your own path when you come upon it because you will suddenly have all the energy and imagination you will ever need.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

My eyes are vague blue, like the sky, and change all the time; they are indiscriminate but fleeting, entirely specific and disloyal, so that no one trusts me. I am always looking away. Or again at something after it has given me up.

My eyes are vague blue, like the sky, and change all the time; they are indiscriminate but fleeting, entirely specific and disloyal, so that no one trusts me. I am always looking away. Or again at something after it has given me up.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

The purpose of poetry is to remind ushow difficult it is to remain just one person,for our house is open, there are no keys in the doors, and invisible guests come in and out at will.

The purpose of poetry is to remind ushow difficult it is to remain just one person,for our house is open, there are no keys in the doors, and invisible guests come in and out at will.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

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