he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
$LAYYYTER
Kaledo Art
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
PR's Tumblrdome
@theartofmadeline
Jules of Nature
#extradirty
will byers stan first human second
shark vs the universe
One Nice Bug Per Day
art blog(derogatory)
macklin celebrini has autism
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Three Goblin Art
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
izzy's playlists!
Discoholic 🪩
Cosimo Galluzzi
Game of Thrones Daily
seen from Germany
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@theloulette
The sweet surprise
Of finding myself
In women not of my blood
Women wholly of my blood
Their names a prayer
Their wisdom, ritual
The blood work of rebellion
Dance as divination
Mother Moon and her many daughters
Generation after generation
Healers and magic workers
Sisterhood of the unsilenced
The tide swells in darkness
The wave crashes on the shore
What must be destroyed is gone
And we remain
We are the ones who remain
I can not continue to carry this in my body.
There is ache here, constant and dull, wrapped around my back and neck and jaw, tight. Even when I am asleep, burden sits on my spine; solid, unmoving.
I have been drowning a long time.
Sometimes the water escapes me as tears and it becomes easier to breathe. For a while. But always there is ache and tiredness and so much of nothing left to give.
How am I still here?
Because this is some bullshit. Because he has no right to get upset that his ‘help’ doesn’t do anything but harm me. Because he gaslights me. Because I’m tired of him thinking that it is always my responsibility to fix things. Because I’m tired of making do. Because love that doesn’t support me isn’t really love. Because I feel alone. Because I don’t have room for his baggage as well as mine. Because anyone that doesn’t want to love me the way I know I need to be loved should not take up space in my life. Because I need to learn to listen to my self. Because my soul is so heavy. Because there is nothing left for me here.
-- the things I reminded myself on the way out the door.
Gaye McDonald in The One Magazine Photographed by Pieter Henket Hair by Ben Skervin
Is it an ebb
Have you sunk
Do you have anything left
Of yourself
When you will take
Any kind of love
Because you don't know
How to be alone?
Hi I wanted to ask if you wrote these words of truth? "Sisterhood is healingWomen who enter into the depths of themselvesand lay out the treasure they findgently, beforethose of us not yet as brave,to light our waythrough the darkness that others have forced on usare the most powerful magic of all."
Yes, I did. I’m glad the words resonated with you! x
Crimes Of The Land
A poem for Aylan Kurdi by Anthony Anaxagorou
It is impossible for a wave to catch fire and burn.
There are no mines hidden in ebbing tides. There are no soldiers crouched in the surf.
The nature of the sea will not invade your living room space, it will not erase cultures, rip out your phone line or massacre families.
The sea wants healing. The sea gives salt.
Whales know nothing of guns or drones, dolphins will not imprison or interrogate uncles, fish will not violate women and coral will not call you what you are not.
The sea preserves with its depth and laments, its eyes a body of ancient tears.
It offers its skin to those running, those fleeing what it has never been. It is life, future, escape. Its politics transparent, its rhetoric fluid. It calls for trembling hands.
Fear is loaded and crammed on its back. Families huddled inside the shelter of prayer.
On a wooden float it carries hurting hearts to places which will not welcome their beat, where people are again met with further disdain and no entry and wait
while on the shore fall those the land betrayed, and like a series of lips the sea’s sombre crests swell up to kiss the final grace of a child who lays dreamless and unturned in the sand.
Anthony Anaxagorou
This is the best thing I have read about/for Aylan. May all of the blessings Anthony desires come to him like a gentle shower.
All it takes is a dying.
one person. ceasing to exist in the form i loved them.
and everything comes crashing. apart.
there is no more down,
nothing lower than this
nothing darker
nothing.
all it takes is a dying
and ‘i’m okay’ is shown up
for the lie it was
lies lies lies lying here thinking to myself
i gotta get up gotta do something gotta make meaning there’s no time for grieving no time for this kind of living where you are here but not really you are here but don’t want to be anymore not like this what is this if not failure.
oh, you thought...
escape is a temporary word
there is nothing waiting for you at the end of it
if no one knows you where you have always been
how will anyone save you where you are going?
so.
sit with your sadness
and your anger and your confusion and the empty empty emptiness
strangely full of the things you thought were
an acceptable happiness;
hard won
but badly built
oh, you thought...
i did. i really did.
Unsolicited advice to young Nigerian women working 12 joyless hours
1) when you start to think you want a life away from the office. Count your bills, spread them on the table. Sigh a lot.
2) when you tell your father you want to be a writer and he lists the names of 9 starving writers, add your name as the 10th on the list. Recite this list before bed.
3) when your mother asks if you can feed a family on passion, eat only laughter for a week. Go back to her and reply you can’t.
4) when you come across an old classmate on Facebook living the life you want, don’t comment. Click like.
5) when the madam at the office asks how you plan to balance your long hours and a husband, tell her men know how to cook. Laugh with her when she laughs at your reply.
6) when the older man who makes crude jokes at work tells you how ungrateful you are, and how he waited 5 years for his first job, apologise. Thank him for his observation.
7) when you call your friend who still hasn’t found a job in 2 years, don’t ask about it. Don’t complain that you work too long. Talk to her about the weather, about your new tailor. Joke a lot.
8) when you boss tells you that the your generation is doomed, ask him why he stares at you when your back is turned (ask inaudibly). Fix your eyes on his family picture. Agree with him.
9) when your American friend tells you you’re wasting your life, that you should follow your dreams, don’t tell her she’s right, just reply “I understand. But this is Lagos”.
10) when you dread the weekdays, look forward to Friday, sit at a new bar and reinvent yourself. After 3 shots of vodka tell the bartender about your life on the island as a photographer. Tell the man sitting beside you after 6.
11) Spend Saturdays being your mother’s daughter. Cook 4 different soups. Picture a hungry husband at your table. This is the life you should crave. Never speak about suicide.
- Because I was asleep when the walls started caving in
How brilliant is this? So dense with truth, yet so so light...
When @edgothboy makes you a dress and says he drew inspiration from your short story ’Re-Memory’, and the sight of it raises dead memories of your mother’s unfinished silk knitting, which in turn gives you a story idea💃🏿💃🏿💃🏿💃🏿 Y'all will see the full outfit when I have a special event to rock it to. Here wishing I had pitch black skin for contrast. #YesFilter
I will teach my daughter how to love, but most important how to stop. They never teach you how to stop.
They truly don’t. This is a beautiful lesson. Teaching her to know when to let go, when to know she’s worth more than what she’s getting.
Indeed
I. Am. Crying.
This…..this needs an award or SOMETHING. 😂😂😂😂😂
The raven shit had me DYING fuck
“I had a vision” I’m WEAK!
“bald eagle Symonè” somebody call me a ambalance
Deceeeaaassseeedd!!!
I died.
It’s been a year since I met the most incredible women in Kampala.
A whole year!
Girl in Love II
I could have taken
the breathless moments when
your gaze was briefly turned
to me,
those airless stretches when I didn't seem to exist
to you -
I could have taken them in
a back-breaking, heart-aching canister
and dived to the bottom of the sea
to hide from how
I loved you,
shamelessly.
Grovelling naked
at your feet that sometimes were
kind enough not to
kick too hard because
I loved you
hopelessly,
taking my beauty and
making it into this strange
thing I did not recognise so
I could be more the woman
I thought you wanted,
swallowing my tears when
you were asleep because I
had left my blossoming pride
at the foot of your bed
when you wanted me in it.
I left it there and you
walked all over
the cracks of it so it
snapped and broke and broke.
And I could not cry
because you were asleep
and especially asleep you
had no patience for my beauty when
I was something other
than the kind of woman you
would want, briefly, in your bed.
I choked on my dreams of
loving you.
No, of you
loving me
like a tender, valuable thing -
not a child, not that -
a tender, valuable thing that
you would have held
close to your heart
if you loved it at all.
But I wasn't.
Not to you.
So how could I have
loved you at all
when in looking at you,
I knew I did not love
myself?
Stop what you’re doing and watch this teenage girl own her dad in a beatboxing battle. It’s been said that “music is the sound wave of the soul” – beatboxing surely is its pulse.
(HT Jad Abumrad)
OMG THIS IS XBNCBXNNMVEJAPDFO!
For you, my friend.
Hot, bright day in Lagos
or Ibadan.
You have:
One -
Showered
Two -
Dressed
Three -
Ventured into The World
The one
Your therapist, in conversation,
(Your psychiatrist in actuality)
has urged you to
hold on to with both hands
until you become
the nice kind of invisible;
normal.
Then,
‘Ori e o pe!’
Casually flung in the direction of
an unruly young man
With no concern for
how it spatters and hits and triggers
this barely-there young woman
quiet out of necessity -
life is hard, but harder still
when you can’t be sure what is real.
Ori e o pe.
Your head is not...complete
when you must check and check
to confirm that what you’re hearing is
a voice from a body of a person
who will be warm and alive
if someone other than you
reached out and touched.
“Do you feel that too?”
You must hide your relief
under as many layers
as you hide your medicine.
Your head is not...correct
When you have been called
Lazy
Stupid
‘that one’
kind-of-hot-but-shit-she’s-weird
Strange
even though you were simply
struggling
to push through
waking up, just waking up.
