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NASA
Sweet Seals For You, Always
tumblr dot com
pixel skylines
izzy's playlists!
The Bowery Presents
Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
KIROKAZE
🪼
hello vonnie
Product Placement
#extradirty
Love Begins
untitled
oozey mess
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
sheepfilms
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Today's Document
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@disturbmyequilibrium
Where Do All The Kids Go Now?
Where Do All The Kids Go Now?
The last 5 years has seen me work with a variety of young people, in South London specifically, and working with young people whilst being a young person myself has given me an incredibly in-depth insight into how institutions work with us and how they continue to fail us.
Something that was magical about youth clubs and services alike, were the personal relationships built on trust and…
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Jnr.
Ibeji.
You point with bold chest and empathy, and your face looks like the days you tried to lift me to prove your strength and I tiptoed to meet your efforts.
You beam pride,
like dad, every time.
And in one, you stood four-foot tall and spoke our life into significance;
Of the chipped mustard wallpaper and sticker fridge, of the inherited fat face and big teeth, the Bobi’s and Jay’s and many…
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The Earth as a House
The Earth as a House
South is Basement.
The ecosystem that blossoms against moulded wallpaper and race car carpet
tracing bass running down cracked wastepipes and 1980 cassette tapes.
Grime Jungle clings heavy in deep corners locked between power sockets and discarded freezers,
Breeds and spreads;
Children lose their footballs here and pretend they do not care.
Back home is Hallway through to Kitchen –
Memorabilia…
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When Stars Die
We are here in all our insignificance.
Small and dotted and finite, we sit on small water islands in universes among galaxies stealing breaths from trees and pride from Earth.
We are nebula, and spinning, and Giant, and Red, and supernova, and all at once.
And when we spin it is like dusted curtains wrapping around toddler feet, tripping pigeon-toed against tall creases like skyscrapers between…
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Ashantiba
He told me, he is in love with himself and he ought to be. If I had ever seen his feet twist against the monocot plant how mirrors catch sunlight and house them; How he would steal his body in his shadows: curving, and dipping, and perking. He told me, he is in love with himself; the way his right shoulder slinks lower than his left, and his mouth reads more than his eyes, and when the brilliant…
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ok (at Hermannplatz)
💙💚
Latitude Festival '15.
🌘
sky looked nice today
So I've been a broccoli head for a while.
Black Boys Don't Cry
Don’t cry, black boy. You were never known for it. Instead, hang these here in silence, Catch your tears in the sag of your pants, Spell your anger in colloquialisms woven with ghettoised indignation; you hug every cracked street corner with a pocket knife. Don’t cry, black boy. You were never known for it. You are as angry as your skin; Blackness swallows light and ego, All that is left is male absence and smoke, and when you die, die still. Do not move the Earth. They will bury you in hoodies and handcuffs, and say all you knew was how to be like the streets, and rest your body in more systems than you had bones. Cut your eyes sharply; Your tears always fell in handfuls of shrapnel from disintegrated homes, tethered education, landing in black-soiled reputations. So don’t cry, black boy. You were never known for it. Instead, hang these here in silence. With these names stapled to your bleeding chest.
