Collage by Furkan Ozketin, 2014

Kaledo Art

Janaina Medeiros
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Stranger Things
sheepfilms

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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Show & Tell
Mike Driver
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Xuebing Du

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Misplaced Lens Cap
ojovivo
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JBB: An Artblog!
Sade Olutola
Monterey Bay Aquarium
RMH
Keni
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@ehrengarde
Collage by Furkan Ozketin, 2014
There are Gods amongst us in these ghettos so black, so fierce, so brown, so beautiful, Their time on earth may be as oppressive as ignorance limited to the demons flowing in their blood but after safely passing over back to the clouds the wind will still carry their auras and prophecies their bones will still beat drums for their children to dance the phoenix will still rise from the flames of Paris with hope in womb There are Gods amongst us in these ghettos so brown, so fierce, so black, so beautiful, That if you spend too much time caught up in yourself You just might miss Him that is goddess, she that is god, they that are legends Working the runway as if walking on water Reaching the stage to that promised land where ‘peace’ is not ridiculed and the only war worth fighting for is protecting your child from the terrorist acts of a mainstream America where 'reading’ is an act of learning not degrading words used to disguise fragility and fractured dreams where 'shade’ is a shadow you walk in to avoid the light but who wants to stay out of the warmth of the sun? If you waste your time trying to be a false prophet robed in attitude and labels to obscure the insecurity you may fail to recognize their divinity and miracles parting the crowds, resurrecting from the floor, scoring tens of commandments, because trophies will not feed the hungry, coat the homeless, hide the scars, Grand Prizes will not bring Lazarus or LaBeija back from the dead they will just sit in your closet, fake idols gathering dust,
before the gold paint chips away You cannot sell them for freedom You cannot trade them in for love There are Gods amongst us in these ghettos so black, so fierce, so black, so beautiful, so brown, so fierce, so brown, so beautiful, Watch them carefully and say your prayers as they enter the ballroom angel wing feathers decorating skin recrafted over silicone and martyred colors See the Gods dream, see the Gods give, see the Gods live, They exist in the spaces where white is not the only hue that represents purity They will not battle to your rhythms and beats click, spin and dip simply for amusement They will not teach those who share their souls and names to hate Their heartbeats are louder than the blaring speakers You want realness… look at your hands are they red from the revolution or from the blood of your own sisters There are Gods amongst us in these ghettos so black, so brown, so fierce, so beautiful, so bright Look up towards the heavens and pray then look at yourself in the mirror and say 'Stars are not only found out in the sky but in ourselves’ Emanuel Xavier
Screen Cap: Legendary From Legendary: The Spoken Word Poetry of Emanuel Xavier
After years of making sure he was left alone, he is suddenly afraid to be alone, afraid not to hear, afraid not to feel, afraid not to notice.
“This Book Will Save Your Life” - A.M. Homes (via anjo-da-guarda-me)
Dog Roses and Honeysuckle ~ Edith Holden
Fear is a reasonable response to life.
Welcome to Night Vale: A Novel (via dailynightvale)
Hobbit Trail by Jeff Hobson
Lúthien Tinúviel
I love you more than I hate everything else.
Rainbow Rowell, Landline (via larmoyante)
London’s full of angels 👼🏻 #regentstreet #London #decorations #angel #angels (at Regent Street)
Sanctuary noun | the part of the chancel of a church containing the high altar; the inner most recess or holiest part of a temple; a holy place
Sanctify by JasonEngle
I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday.
Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters (via thelovejournals)
@anjo-da-guarda-me
@tycatz
by Sidney Sime
Forgiveness is just another name for freedom.
Byron Katie
(via
naturaekos
)
Grace
(via oldfarmhouse)
Fiction is a portal, A way out or a way in, Looking for reasons and for seasons, I am in a book that is on hold at the library. A story of accepting the parts as non-linear, There are no truths here, nor are there puzzles to clues, Or everything that exists outside of the frame. There could or might be, a door or an escape Or an entering. Hidden fears and motivations, Seen and recognized, acknowledged and absorbed, into the other realms. There are strict scientific standpoints Distorted randomness, healing and growth Change and breakthroughs, encounters or fearsome beasts. Radically alone and seeking detachment Following the warriors way into an ancient tombs Containing an alphabetic script, letters to myself, That are meaningful only to me and are shared, inscriptions Or divination’s Editing and reworking, positive signs and promising omens. A completed afterword.
Thoughts of the Morning (via anjo-da-guarda-me)