Welcome to the Fort

It’s fine.

Maybe you can make it ironic.

Something that feels like a girl in a short skirt at a party.

Offending her sensibilities with her own humour.

Daring you to love her and playing never-to-get.

Pretend there’s a joke that only her and the people who like the poem know.


Maybe you can make it angry.

And tell a story of how how strong your mother was.

She raised you all on her own.

Or how drunk your father was.

Act like you were born on railroad tracks.

Maybe your father was a train.

Get someone to play an 808 in the background.

Maybe you can put it in the middle of the road.

Pontificate a little.

Become a vanilla paste of words.

Don’t say anything really.

Wonder about the nature of a pen.

Be clever.

Maybe you can make it impenetrable.

Be as vague as possible.

Slam your fist into a grapefruit and make a kind of growling noise.

Roll your eyes as soon as someone asks you what it means.

Snap your fingers to show you don’t understand.

Wear a beret.

Maybe you can make it a history lesson.

Talk about the plants and leaves that grew around you.

Tell me something about a smell you remember from a kitchen.

Shock me with some kind brutality either inflicted or received or witnessed.

Write one of the words in a language I don’t understand.

Put it in italics.

Maybe you can make it real sensitive.

Write words that kiss the skin.

Make them sound like the space between two drum beats.

Talk about what it feels like to breathe.

Or something.

Who cares.

Because poetry is the only art form that people naturally expect to be,


So it’s ok to write shit poetry.

It’s fine.

- Iain S. Thomas, 'Write a Shit Poem' (via soracities)


i never really liked

my name


until i found out

what it tastes like

when you write it in frosting

on top of a cake

(Source: your-scallywag)




People should only update their Facebook statuses with great stories like this one.

That was wild

from start to finish

sounds about right





the first female chinese immigrant to america was a sixteen-year-old girl who was part of a cultural exhibit where she sat in a life-size diorama and people watched her eat with chopsticks while wearing silk clothes and that’s really all you need to know about the commodification of chinese women

Afong Moy.  Her name was Afong Moy.  Say the names of people who should be remembered.

^ reblogging for name

The name.