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One Nice Bug Per Day
sheepfilms
KIROKAZE
$LAYYYTER
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
wallacepolsom
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d e v o n
Sade Olutola
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Kiana Khansmith
PR's Tumblrdome
Not today Justin
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oozey mess
Today's Document
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@wieldwords
Grève Féministe 2023
Vais-je descendre dans la rue ? Comment exprimer ma rage face à ces systèmes qui me révoltent, moi aussi ? Comment, quoi déconstruire, détruire pour arriver à nos fins ? A quoi bon ? Est-ce que je supporterai ? Tant de questions qui m’amènent à réfléchir, prendre position, et dans ce sens-là, j’apprécie la mobilisation. La révolte, elle est en moi, sans aucun doute. C’est une révolte nourrie de…
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Turn back the pages - August 2012
Turn back the pages – August 2012
Throw the walls down Punch, stamp, tear at them Open the space up wide Wide, wide as the Moonlit sky above.
Loose yourself in the space In your head, your heart Your home, your world. Like in a film, let the camera Pan upwards and out, Leaving you, a speck of flesh Alone in the dust.
But free.
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On Academia vs the "Real World"
On Academia vs the “Real World”
Disclaimer: there is no “real world”, nor is academia really separate from anything else.
Academia has been my safe space for nine years. Or all my life really. School is just pre-academia, a formatting that, should your personality match, encourages you to keep going, keep learning. Home, with a Doctor of Philosophy for a father, has always been an extension of the classroom – not in an austere,…
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"se réveiller ailleurs..."
“se réveiller ailleurs…”
12th March 2017 Dawn had come and gone, so it was almost a midday sun that dragged me from a still-drunk slumber. The light, the way it shone through the shutters, made me think we could be anywhere. So when the windows were cracked open and street sounds reached us, I thought of Dar Es Salaam, Rome, busy roads and car horns. On a similar morning, children’s voices rose up, hearkening back to…
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On the Importance of Seeing my Peers in Positions of Power
July 2017, Montreux *When I see Solange, I see a woman, a sister. I know how she feels in her skin, I know how she gathers her hair on the top of her head as she slips into bed at the end of a long day. When I see her backing singers, I know the laughs that rose from their throats as they dressed and got ready; I know their measured breathing as the walked out onto the stage as the lights flashed…
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Me too.
Grateful for your voices. Please share!
Nothing can describe the recurring sinking in my stomach, or the invasion of shivers. My complete inability to understand whether I should like, send love, be sad or show anger; wow could never be a solution. Also difficult to express is the deep gratitude in feeling that this time, we’re on a roll. Not all of us are marchers, or politicians, journalists, rappers, or have access to a platform…
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Stormy Léman and the words it's etched in my heart. Brush up your windswept look No need to hide those tear-prone eyes, Darkness will descend over the lake…
Never again: Selfish.
There are words that hurt. Selfish is a destroyer for me. And it’s taken me a long time to understand why. While I am a generous, sometimes (borderline) sacrificial person, I think this makes me strong, and so it’s not what shapes my pain at the root. It actually runs deeper and earlier. As a child, I was denied individuality. Motions to do things for myself were swept aside, seen as signs of…
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All of us, messed up, in pain
My mic drop of the day, in poetical form.
You leave me with bite marks, Fantasy plans of tying me up tight. But when it comes to real tears Or hearing my calls as I drown, You turn your music louder Cover my voice with drunk stutters. Now, just the other day: “Give it all up” you say, “come, let me show you the way” Promised me an ear, “Come on, give up on the pain” If I’d just let go of the meds, stop reaching out for professional help……
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One Word: Freedom Apparently yesterday was UK National Poetry Day... Here is a piece I already had lined up and which corresponds to the theme...!
Portovenere (2011) *** As rain starts to fall on the town of Portovenere, the scene is set for a suspense film.
I don't do fiction - "Pretty, Curly Girl" March 2017
I don’t do fiction – “Pretty, Curly Girl” March 2017
17 billion universes, in each of which I am a thousand possibilities. I carry in me the seeds for a hundred women to flower. Yet I am afraid. As if a single uncontrolled step might condemn me to a vertiginous kaleidoscope of errors. I reside in a fear that traps me. It is unforgiving. Unrelenting. And so I chase respite, anything to keep the numbing terror at bay. I sing, I sweat, dance to the…
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Turn back the pages - July 2010
Turn back the pages – July 2010
A shower in Venice Wash away years of dust, Gallons of Seawater Plastered to your skin: Only the dark grime Under your nails is proof It’s there. The water runs, and with it Memories of the day The gentle lull of the boat Fingers outstretched Bridging the gaps in generations Languages mixed to match. In remembrance I close my eyes Against the sun, The sting of the soap. Slowly the waves of water…
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One word: Storm
Extract from a love letter – on self affirmation But I am a whole, made of good and bad, confident and anxious, calm and angered, sober and excited.
Writing is Healing
Boy, don't even try me.
Boy, don’t even try me.
Just because I’m black you expect me to be exotic. You think my curves and my curls make me wild in bed. You like the sound of the languages I speak and want to hear more. Then, because I’m swiss you accuse me of being a goody two-shoes. I am not (and neither are you) my origins (your heritage). More than the sum of my parts, let me exist outside of the boxes you label for me, for all of us. Do I…
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