BeachSounds

How inappropriate to call this planet Earth when it is quite clearly Ocean.

- Arthur C. Clarke

My name is Kerry Cox and I live in Seattle. This is a collection of photos, songs, links, quotes and poems I like. I post my original poetry and photos here:
http://kerrycoxpoetry.tumblr.com

Curious?
9:51 AM
May 20th, 2013



(Source: 19ninety2, via mydarlingocean)

6:34 AM
May 20th, 2013



3:17 AM
May 20th, 2013
landcaps:

China by yyz! on Flickr.


landcaps:

China by yyz! on Flickr.

(Source: south-england, via mydarlingocean)

7:43 PM
May 19th, 2013



(Source: itsawolf, via mydarlingocean)

4:25 PM
May 19th, 2013



1:08 PM
May 19th, 2013
infinite-paradox:

By Sako Tchilingirian


9:51 AM
May 19th, 2013



(Source: heartsea, via daddyfuckedme)

6:34 AM
May 19th, 2013
nevver:

Bookshelf porn


3:17 AM
May 19th, 2013
lostinaforestofambiguities:


Photo by Andrea Hübner 
Make-up by Eva Gerholdt

Someone art on my face.


lostinaforestofambiguities:

Photo by Andrea Hübner 

Make-up by Eva Gerholdt

Someone art on my face.

(via survivablyso)

1:57 AM
May 19th, 2013

rendered


now, as if I had roses underneath

ordinary skin, i have come to blossom

into tears and whitewater rapids

full

.

ghostly, the wishes of underlying

thoughts, watery films of 

the way we kiss.  cool

time and machines 

to transport 

the mind to its

own excuse.

.

this is a grave, too

this evening light, this

slow tempo.  this is a 

remembrance of all

the sand that’s ever 

been made.

.

call me a lover

and that is words but

more in your mouth.  call me

sorceress because I want

to make magic for you,

again.

.

these are still pillows stained

with blood, sometimes.  these

are still stories meant to scare 

children, or 

those too innocent to know better.

.

climb me like roses on trellises

will grow towards sunlight.  i have

a busy way of making myself

buzz from inside that

sings itself to sleep

when your music melts

inside me.

.

call it capture, release

a new script for 

an old movie because

acting is unheard of

in scenes this raw and ready

in houses made of 

cards and campfires.

.

but I am not glass anymore, 

listening for stones slipping

down mountainsides.  i am back

to ocean, back to salt

back to waves of petals

soaked with

scent.

my latest. :)

(Source: kerrycoxpoetry)