Yeah, this is painfully me. Only I even do this for things I finished years ago.
Me : *finishes a book/TV show/movie*
Me : I must now go through the Tumblr tag for this and reblog everything.
My favourite spaceship: the Ancient (both in age and the name of its creators) ship Destiny. A ship that travelled across galaxies for millions of years, searching for meaning in the universe, until Syfy cancelled the show it was on. Such a beautiful design, and well thought out too.
A poem I wrote recently after starting to study Irish history:
I sit in class,
And learn of a past
That in many ways once was mine.
Though generations divorced, is it not natural to pine?
For a heritage too vast to grasp.
At home are pictures of a land unfamiliar:
Of faces, green spaces and castles.
And though their meaning escapes me,
And the memories long left me,
I know they mean much more.
In my mind's ear I hear fiddles,
But all I comprehend are riddles.
To follow is a rite of passage
From which I could only scavenge:
A path left but unearnt.
The waves of the coast call to me,
They beckon me back to the quay.
Again I hesitate to follow,
My connection only being hollow,
But now I have a chance to see.
To see revolutions rise and quickly fall,
The mistreatment and the brawls,
And the poets dreaming of a free home.
They tell stories of white horses- across the fields they roam;
A return to a culture stolen.
To discover the rural lands once more,
To grasp the many wars,
To comprehend the intricacies and allegiances.
The negotiations that devolved into grievances,
And the retaliations spun into tales of yore.
One image stands out in the mist:
A memorial of cold stone.
This one belongs to my grandfather, but I know of many more:
O'Connell; Parnell; Struck down by hearts broken, by causes lost.
The Banshees’ howls echoing around them.
I may not grasp the history, the language or the myths.
My blood may not be Irish like those before me,
But I have the chance to learn, to reconnect.
I know what I am:
An English boy thinking of the nation from which he got his name.
do you ever get confused about where your mental illness ends and where you being a piece of shit begins ?? like am i just being difficult or can i really not do that
It's been a rough few days on the run
A really sweet art of Sanders’ inauguration look.
Lily Van
Deadpool 3 perhaps? The pair have snogged before.
But what if they just happened to cast Andrew Garfield as the boyfriend in Deadpool 2, and someone in the movie is like, “hey, you look just like Peter Par-” but Deadpool tackles them before they can finish and then just looks directly at the camera and is like, “this is my boyfriend, Pete Parkley, and he is definitely not Spiderman because that would be a serious breach of licensing rights.” and then he just grabs Pete and tows him away by the suspicious red spandex collar poking out over the top of his T-shirt
A short poem I wrote relating to the lack of justice or transparency in politics:
Two Truths and a Lie.
Can you spot the falsehood?
Or have candour and mendacity become inseparable?
The snakes have danced their dance, and mesmerised the populace,
And now reality is a dream.
Or a nightmare.
Is there a binary anymore?
A distinct black and white.
Or is our world now made in endless shades of grey?
We have been left trying to pick out the minutia,
But when everything is a pencil sketch can differences be found?
The struggle for justice has lost its hue,
When the heroes you found are branded villains and questionedBy a media unable to speak.
Or scream.
The truth of the matter is that there is no truth now.
There are only lies to be found.
And truth.
When Orwellian thinking is the lifeblood of leadership,
Is there any solace to be found?
When the values so long encouraged and denied
Are diminished by the very people who defended, and coveted, those same values
Is there any future?
Will there even be an end?
Or are we trapped in an abyss of decline,
Until our very being is lost to thought so indecipherable and grey,
That we can no longer observe anything at all.
Can you spot two truths and the lie in a post-truth world?