‘dʒoʊz 🌙 [jose]

If your household income is high and you are doing ok you have 2 options in life:

1) shut the fuck up OR
2) loudly advocate for things to change to everyone can do ok too

considering it’s been more than half my life since I actively listened to classic rock, I’m quietly delighted I was able to clock the new fridge’s opening sound as a GNR riff (night core mode)

at least it’s the season for it?

It's just words and you're just meat and nothing actually matters. Now go write your book.

I took Chumani out on a date and she got id checked, and then my 15 year old niece roasted her for looking like a teenager 😭

Image of mayhem literary journal issue 11, 2024: a black book with yellow writing, with a central image of the NZ $2 coin overlayed on the face of a retro television, over a collage of frogs, traffic cones, lambs, kowhai flowers, lavender, a kawakawa leaf, an image of the moon, a banded snake and a sculpture of clasped hands.

I also was published in Issue 11 of Mayhem Journal 🥺 it feels like a literal lifetime since I first read Mayhem, and it was such a privilege to be included in their 2024 collection: www.mayhemjournal.co.nz/shop/product...

Now that I’m back to posting publicly, for NZ poetry day last year I wrote a number of poems after the soundtrack of my fave film, The Wicker Man (1973)! Here’s the one I submitted for the @badappledotgay.bsky.social mixtape: badapple.gay/2024/08/23/i...

sometimes I listen to the music my mates made like 5-10 years ago and I just weep my guts out like how are all these beautiful humans so talented ?!

can you develop face blindness with age?

😭🥰

I am v excited for all the fit checks I absolutely expect you to provide 😌🥰

I have two poems out in the seventh edition of Tarot! Feeling honoured to published alongside such an incredible collection of poets 😌 check it out here: tarotpoetry.nz/tarot07/

soph you already do!!

omg soph 😭

unfortunately I keep forgetting about bsky but from the river to the sea Palestine WILL be free — don’t stop sharing don’t stop feeling don’t stop thinking don’t stop being angry whānau 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

Today is a great day to join your union if you haven’t already.

new (old) poem out with graphic violence lit today!

graphicviolencelit.wordpress.com/2023/11/17/l...

unfortunately I keep forgetting about bsky but from the river to the sea Palestine WILL be free — don’t stop sharing don’t stop feeling don’t stop thinking don’t stop being angry whānau 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

happy Halloween to all who observe 👻

yeah huge, true! this has not been my experience of late but that may just be the people I follow and the algorithm clicking that I am mostly interested in plants, crafts and puppies 😅

extremely fair tbh! I like that there’s a close friends option for stories and I am more and more drawn to visual or auditory mediums as my brain fog takes over my life, but the demon tweet machine has always been my poison of choice also

an icon and a masterpiece

I’ve been playing bubble games but 🤷
get on Insta Soph, share your fits 💪

Conversely, "Kill more people" pretty much sums up right-wing politics these days. No matter what the issue, they support more human suffering, environmental destruction and death.

I am not sure if it’s the migraine talking but I see no reason to ever write messages that make sense again if making sense requires even a modicum of effort in that moment do you feel me

hand embroidered cloth with floral border, the text is a Hera Lindsay Bird quote which says ‘god DAMN this stupid milkloving piece of shit dumbass mean spirited sale at briscoes 40% off deck furniture piss country’

love 2 craft

Running Orders BY LENA KHALAF TUFFAHA They call us now, before they drop the bombs. The phone rings and someone who knows my first name calls and says in perfect Arabic “This is David.” And in my stupor of sonic booms and glass-shattering symphonies still smashing around in my head I think, Do I know any Davids in Gaza? They call us now to say Run. You have 58 seconds from the end of this message. Your house is next. They think of it as some kind of war-time courtesy. It doesn’t matter that there is nowhere to run to. It means nothing that the borders are closed and your papers are worthless and mark you only for a life sentence in this prison by the sea and the alleyways are narrow

and there are more human lives packed one against the other more than any other place on earth Just run. We aren’t trying to kill you. It doesn’t matter that you can’t call us back to tell us the people we claim to want aren’t in your house that there’s no one here except you and your children who were cheering for Argentina sharing the last loaf of bread for this week counting candles left in case the power goes out. It doesn’t matter that you have children. You live in the wrong place and now is your chance to run to nowhere. It doesn’t matter that 58 seconds isn’t long enough to find your wedding album or your son’s favorite blanket or your daughter’s almost completed college application or your shoes or to gather everyone in the house. It doesn’t matter what you had planned. It doesn’t matter who you are. Prove you’re human. Prove you stand on two legs. Run.

Lena Khalaf Tuffaha’s poem “Running Orders,” published 2017.

as is pumpkin’s!!

yeah my partner has nearly cracked her teeth grinding bc libi’s big dumb cute face