Midnight Toker @midniighttoker - Tumblr Blog

横濱衛生展覧會立版古

I am sick of writing this poem but bring the boy. his new name his same old body. ordinary, black dead thing. bring him & we will mourn until we forget what we are mourning & isn’t that what being black is about? not the joy of it, but the feeling you get when you are looking at your child, turn your head, then, poof, no more child. that feeling. that’s black. \ think: once, a white girl was kidnapped & that’s the Trojan war. later, up the block, Troy got shot & that was Tuesday. are we not worthy of a city of ash? of 1000 ships launched because we are missed? always, something deserves to be burned. it’s never the right thing now a days. I demand a war to bring the dead boy back no matter what his name is this time. I at least demand a song. a song will do just fine. \ look at what the lord has made. above Missouri, sweet smoke.

Danez Smith, “not an elegy for Mike Brown” (via oofpoetry)

poetsandwriters

The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other’s welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Derek Walcott (1930–2017), from “Love After Love” in Collected Poems (via poetsandwriters)

hellanne

art-creature

secrets / brush pen & gel pen

birdasaurus

Taylor McKay

glittertomb

George Barbier, 1916.

faroofash

beyoncegiselleknowles

Ashton Sanders for Vulkan Magazine (January 2017)

northmagneticpole

Woman Who Lives in the Sun, 1960-Kenojuak Ashevak

mounak-s-deactivated20170517

Untitled (Rejoice!), from Inflammatory Essays Jenny Holzer, 1979

redlipstickresurrected

Sophie Lécuyer (French, b. 1987, Épinal, France) - Picking Water, 2015 Lithograph

okayoverthink

These paintings, filled with traditional abstract Aboriginal iconography denoting nature, spirits, and a way of life that has been passed down for generations, are a wonder.

hustlingforhealth

Muscle is created by repeatedly lifting things that have been designed to weigh us down. So when your shoulders feel heavy, stand up straight and lift your chin – call it exercise. When the world crumbles around you, you have to look at the wreckage and then build a new one out of all the pieces that are still here. Remember, you are still here. The human heart beats approximately four thousand times per hour. Each pulse, each throb, each palpitation is a trophy engraved with the words ‘You are still alive.’ You are still alive. Act like it.

Rudy Franciso (via impartng)