#incthoughts

79 posts
  • davinci 1d

    perhaps it is that the story has been told for so long that it holds the most consonant truth
    or perhaps it is that the story has been told so many times that it holds the most cozen lie
    ©davinci

  • davinci 2d

    a song of storm emanates from the horizon
    howling winds rage and waves bellow in cold fury
    lightning ignites the stygian night while roaring thunder portray a thausand drumbeats
    and we; the children of night,
    dance to the cascading rain
    ©davinci

  • davinci 2w

    no star in the sky stirs
    the sea is still
    no wind dares blow
    the moonlight dimmed
    no blood through her veins flow
    the puddle round her cold
    ©davinci

  • davinci 2w

    herald thy muse
    acclaim the moonlight
    for they rouse the poet

    oeuvre - a work of art
    panoptic - all-seeing, comprehensive, invlusive

    #incthoughts
    #poet
    #muse
    #wod

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    a motley of emotions inflaming ardent desire
    panoptic lexicon inciting an enthralling oeuvre
    a poet evoking a poem
    ©davinci

  • davinci 7w

    on this blank canvas
    i bleed a medley of ardent ichor and esoteric cosmos
    i cry a motley of soundless tears and poignant silhouettes
    ©davinci

  • davinci 10w

    The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake

    “Most people don’t know how to starve,” said Ezra. 
    Silence.
    “I guess that’s a weird thing to say, but it’s true. It’s something you learn. People think they have to be born one way, with resilience built in or some incapacity to burn or whatever. Either you are or you aren’t, that sort of thing. Like some people want naturally and others want nothing, but it’s not true. You can be taught to want. You can be taught to crave. You can learn to starve.”
    Silence.
    “The issue is when you eventually get fed,” Ezra continued. “You’ve heard about the stomach pains when vegetarians eat meat for the first time? It feels like dying. Prosperity is anguish. And of course the body adjusts, doesn’t it? But the mind doesn’t. You can’t erase history. You can’t just excise the wanting, and worse—you forget the pain. Eventually you grow accustomed to excess and you can’t go back, because all you remember are the aches of starvation, which you took so long to learn. How to give yourself only as much as you need to continue—that’s a lesson. For some people it’s lifelong, for others it’s developmental if they’re lucky and eventually it fades. But still you never forget it, how to starve. How to watch others with envy. How to silence the ache in your soul. Starvation is dormancy, isn’t it? The mind still hungers even when the body adjusts. There’s tension, always. Survival only requires so much but existence, completion, that becomes insatiable. The longer you starve the more haunting the ghost of starvation. After learning to starve, when someone finally gives you something you become a hoarder. You hoard. And technically that’s the same as having, but it isn’t, not really. Starvation continues. You still want, and wanting is the hard part. You can learn to starve but you can’t learn how to have. Nobody can. It’s the flaw in being mortal.”
    Silence.
    “We’re all starving,” said Ezra. "but not everyone is doing it correctly. Some people are taking too much, making themselves sick, and it kills them. The excess is poison; even food is a poison to someone who’s been deprived. Everything has the capacity to turn toxic. It’s easy, so easy to die, so the ones who make themselves something are the same ones who learn to starve correctly. They take in small amounts, in survivable doses. We’re immunizing ourselves to something—against something. Everything we manage to have successfully becomes a vaccine over time, but the illness is always much larger. We’re still naturally susceptible. We fight it, trying to starve well or starve cleverly, but it comes for us eventually. We all have different reasons for wanting, but inevitably it comes.”
    “What does?” asked Atlas.
    Ezra smiled, closing his eyes in the sun.
    “Power,” he said. “A little at a time until we break.”

  • davinci 15w

    #incthoughts
    #death
    #wod

    i run from you
    you follow
    i crave you
    you debar me

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    darling death

    why do you shadow me
    only to vanish when i turn around

    why do i crave you
    only to flee at your slight whisper

    why do we run in endless circles
    spurning our divine embrace
    ©davinci

  • davinci 15w

    do i dare ask the question
    do i dare question my truth

    #incthoughts
    #question
    #questions
    #wod

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    what do you do at the end
    when all you are left with is a shadow
    when all you remember is a whisper
    when all you feel is the palsy
    ©davinci

  • davinci 18w

    set the universe ablaze with the tempest inside you
    watch it raze from the centre of your flames
    ©davinci

  • inc_thoughts 18w

    moonlight thieves we called them
    rogues who came down as stardust
    renegades who plagued us philoselene
    they enamor'd us and we were enchanted
    they purloined our dreams
    and we were cursed to deep and dreamless slumber
    ©inc_thoughts

  • davinci 18w

    aurora - Roman goddess of the dawn; equivalent of the Greek Eos. Sister of Luna and Sol.

    #incthoughts
    #katuata
    #wod
    #aurora

    5/7/7

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    as moon plays moonlight
    as stars grace divine starlight
    we dance to aurora's glow
    ©davinci

  • davinci 18w

    sitting in the corner of a round table
    i question silence's grace
    i remember her mistruths
    i kiss her silhouette
    all while her pirouette,
    draws blood
    ©davinci

  • davinci 18w

    sitting in the corner of a round table....
    ©davinci

  • davinci 18w

    W: why do stories end, little lamb?
    L: beauty fades dear wolf, that is why it is beautiful

    #incthoughts
    #stories
    #end
    #kindredvoices

    @heartsease

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    October knew, of course, that the action of turning a page, of ending a chapter or of shutting a book, did not end a tale. Having admitted that, he would also avow that happy endings were never difficult to find: "It is simply a matter," he explained to April, "of finding a sunny place in a garden, where the light is golden and the grass is soft; somewhere to rest, to stop reading, and to be content.

    : Neil Gaiman, Sandman

  • inc_thoughts 20w

    i found myself
    lost
    in
    spiralling
    circle
    lost
    in
    unceasing
    twilight
    lost
    i found myself
    ©inc_thoughts

  • inc_thoughts 20w

    she is hurricane
    a
    rage
    as
    tempest
    a
    wrath
    as
    inferno
    a
    hurricane she is
    ©inc_thoughts

  • davinci 20w

    excerpt from My Sisters Keeper by Jodi Picoult

    If there was a religion of Annaism, and I had to tell you how humans made their way to Earth, it would go like this: in the beginning, there was nothing at all but the moon and the sun. And the moon wanted to come out during the day, but there was something so much brighter that seemed to fill up all those hours. The moon grew hungry, thinner and thinner, until she was just a slice of herself, and her tips were as sharp as a knife. By accident, because that is the way most things happen, she poked a hole in the night and out spilled a million stars, like a fountain of tears.

    Horrified, the moon tried to swallow them up. And sometimes this worked, because she got fatter and rounder. But mostly it didn't, because there were just so many. The stars kept coming, until they made the sky so bright that the sun got jealous. He invited the stars to his side of the world, where it was always bright. What he didn't tell them, though, was that in the daytime, they'd never be seen. So the stupid ones leaped from the sky to the ground, and they froze under the weight of their own foolishness.

    The moon did her best. She carved each of these blocks of sorrow into a man or a woman. She spent the rest of her time watching out so that her other stars wouldn't fall. She spent the rest of her time holding on to whatever scraps she had left.


    #incthoughts
    #stories
    #wod
    #stars#moon

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    stories we read
    draw from the ethereal and the infinite
    and impart on us the joys and sorrows
    the struggles and triumphs
    the heartaches and laughter
    of true free souls
    ©davinci

  • inc_thoughts 22w

    dare to hold your dream
    against the sun?
    ©inc_thoughts

  • inc_thoughts 22w

    this eonian night sky
    weeps scintillating stars
    bleeds ethereal moonlight
    ©inc_thoughts

  • davinci 24w

    KINDRED VOICES: THE LAMB AND THE WOLF

    W: lamb, tell me a story.
    L: there was once a pale man with dark hair, who was very lonely.
    W: why was he lonely?
    L: all things must meet this man, so.. they shunned him.
    W: did he.. chase them all?
    L: he took an axe and split himself in two. right down the middle.
    W: so he would always have a friend?
    L: so he would always have a friend.
    L: what do all stories have in common, dear wolf?
    W: they end
    ©davinci