Martin Bauendahl

Real life vs Societal expectations


Portland Poetry Slam - “Choose Your Own Adventure”

"Every morning starts with a dark room and an ominous door."

Brenna Twohy, Alex Dang, Doc Luben, and Leyna Rynearson, performing at the 2014 National Poetry Slam. Subscribe to Button on YouTube!

"What is a poet? An unhappy person who conceals profound anguish in his heart but whose lips are so formed that as sighs and cries pass over them they sound like beautiful music. It is with him as with the poor wretches in Phalaris’s bronze bull, who were slowly tortured over a slow fire; their screams could not reach the tyrant’s ears to terrify him; to him they sounded like sweet music. And people crowd around the poet and say to him, “Sing again soon” — in other words, may new sufferings torture your soul, and may your lips continue to be formed as before, because your screams would only alarm us, but the music is charming."

Søren Kierkegaard, Either/Or (via ontologicalshakedown)
"Now, It can be scary and make us all feel small, but the world is so exquisite and filled with so much love and moral depth, that there is no reason to deceive ourselves with empty comforts. Far better is to look death in the eye and to be grateful every day for the brief but magnificent opportunity that life provides. Every one of us is, in the cosmic perspective, precious. If a human disagrees with you, let him live. In a hundred billion galaxies, you will not find another like him. Marvel at the realization that the nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, and the carbon in our wedding rings were all forged inside the hearts of of collapsing stars. We are all of us made of starstuff. If that too leaves you alone and afraid, there’s only one thing we’ve found in all of our searching that can make the emptiness bearable, and that is each other. For small creatures such as we, the vastness is only truly bearable through love."

Carl Sagan (via mymangotree)

1. What would heal my world?
Acknowledging is the first step,
And that is not a fear of madness.
It is Great Anxiety thats splitting my body and mind.
You and I.
It is my spirit submerged between moonlight.
It is the earthly smell in the air today.
It is the dirt under my fingernails.
It is the grass that I lay on,
It is the distress from an ending summer
That wishes for you back.

2. How can a body bear such longing?
Borne on fulfilment, as if reality weren’t dense enough. Even atoms enclosed in their vast spaces
Hide from nothing.

3. I wish for you here,
Because the air won’t turn black this time.
The air will be the chariot of certainty,
Crushing the physical structure of the confused.
And when you peer into my eyes,
My tears will not enclose in Destructions of ambiguity.

4. My tears
They are nourishment,
Softening the ground.


"and all i know of silence is that
when people go, they leave these great cold
and all i know of space is that 
humans can’t survive in it."

inkskinned (via inkskinned)

19. BC. Nuturing seeds to my own true nature.