1. strangersneedlove:

    Indighostly, she paints 💙

  2. uutpoetry:

Movie Theaters, Glug Glug
Logan Ellis (unknowmenclature)



can a stone be skipped over any surface and still have the same ending?
on top of the abandoned movie theater,gently whipping pebbles into the sun’s openmouth, the posable stutter-arc of its bottom lip versus the easy-to-please arc of my wrists—tired of holding others.everything in this town—scratched-out coordinates and teenagerswho are too wise to not know where to roam:the forgotten downtown mini-mall, ten-ton chapel, airport.I fight for places to call mine like dormant pennies deemed “lucky” upon discovery, recline into fists called home.
the kid who drowned in the river the other day is on my mind;he makes me think I should stop jumping off bridges so often.then again, all my friends are either jumping off bridgesor smoking weed underneath them—borneceaselessly into the floodwaters. they are the ignored death toll in a video game, the straight path that never looks back—they reply Strongly Agree to every pessimistic trick questionon a job application, simply too honest to be good-natured.and who’d have thought we’d move on lickety-split? so carefree.I hear it now, that addictive sound of moving water and smokeat the abandoned riverside, drowning him, me, them.
you’re here on this edifice with me, but I don’t really address you.I just wanted to come here alone and think aboutthe proclivity of body to water, and you’re something like hallelujah meets break dance, ormaybe I-want-to-wake-up-with-you-in-my-arms arbitrary,though we haven’t reached that shade of war paint.
we open up to one another like bloody noses;just tassel-tongued and satchel-hearted individuals!
you’re riding on my back now, so I move slowlyabout the sun, though I’m barefoot and the roof-pebbles are like hot coals; yet again, my inclination togive up something of myself for you for reasons unknown.
Yeah, no. I just wanted to come up here, relax with a backpack of peelable fruit, and stare at the oiled horizon, watch the abandoned airport take off.
art by Manu Duf

    uutpoetry:

    Movie Theaters, Glug Glug

    Logan Ellis (unknowmenclature)

    can a stone be skipped over any surface 
    and still have the same ending?

    on top of the abandoned movie theater,
    gently whipping pebbles into the sun’s open
    mouth, the posable stutter-
    arc of its bottom lip versus the easy-to-please 
    arc of my wrists—tired of holding others.
    everything in this town—scratched-out coordinates and teenagers
    who are too wise to not know where to roam:
    the forgotten downtown mini-mall, ten-ton chapel, airport.
    I fight for places to call mine like dormant pennies 
    deemed “lucky” upon discovery, recline into fists called home.

    the kid who drowned in the river the other day is on my mind;
    he makes me think I should stop jumping off bridges so often.
    then again, all my friends are either jumping off bridges
    or smoking weed underneath them—borne
    ceaselessly into the floodwaters. they are the ignored death 
    toll in a video game, the straight path that never looks back—
    they reply Strongly Agree to every pessimistic trick question
    on a job application, simply too honest to be good-natured.
    and who’d have thought we’d move on lickety-split? so carefree.
    I hear it now, that addictive sound of moving water and smoke
    at the abandoned riverside, drowning him, me, them.

    you’re here on this edifice with me, but I don’t really address you.
    I just wanted to come here alone and think about
    the proclivity of body to water, and you’re 
    something like hallelujah meets break dance, or
    maybe I-want-to-wake-up-with-you-in-my-arms arbitrary,
    though we haven’t reached that shade of war paint.

    we open up to one another like bloody noses;
    just tassel-tongued and satchel-hearted individuals!

    you’re riding on my back now, so I move slowly
    about the sun, though I’m barefoot and the roof-pebbles 
    are like hot coals; yet again, my inclination to
    give up something of myself for you for reasons unknown.

    Yeah, no. 
    I just wanted to come up here, relax with a backpack 
    of peelable fruit, and stare at the oiled horizon, 
    watch the abandoned airport take off.

    art by Manu Duf

  3. Do you feel someone can be feminist without hating men? Or be pro black without hating white? The pattern being do you think you can be for your people without hating your oppressors?

    black--lamb:

    You can be whatever you want to be without hate..

    BUT think about it this way..

    The oppressed don’t just wake up one day and decide to hate their oppressors… It’s a learned circumstance…

    People need to start differentiating between hate and a simple demand for respect…

    It’s easy for oppressors to flip the script and pull the ‘hate’ card because they know their behavior is justified by the majority….

    Sometimes that hatred that develops in the oppressed is necessary for their survival..

    At the end of the day, oppressors can NOT be harmed by the ‘expression’ of hatred from the oppressed due to their inherent privilege… racially or gender wise…….Whether they want to admit it or not.

  4. Orgasms, I feel — whether achieved yourself or through a willing partner — are some of the most intense, yet blissful moments of peace you’ll ever find. They’re natures psychedelic. We should share this experience more earnestly; especially with a soul when connect with like woven thread.
    Dae Lee (Daeizm)

    (Source: daeizm, via noenoebot)

  5. mademoiselletimberlake:

R.I.P Nelson Mandela
    High Res

    mademoiselletimberlake:

    R.I.P Nelson Mandela

    (Source: shihlun, via jay-the-abstract)

  6. penabranca:

Whenever you feel small, remember that you live in a grain of dust orbiting a tiny sparkle in a vast, empty darkness. And how beautiful it is to even acknowledge this fact.
    High Res

    penabranca:

    Whenever you feel small, remember that you live in a grain of dust orbiting a tiny sparkle in a vast, empty darkness. And how beautiful it is to even acknowledge this fact.

    (via sellindope)

  7. You had this amazing way of shutting out the world when you felt down. But as much as I admired that, I knew the danger. I knew how shutting the world off had damaging effects, long-term.

    How being numb meant you didn’t feel the love that whispered at the nape of your neck, the joy that rained on your skin, the peace that filled your lungs.

    You’re not wrong for shutting out the world when you’re down, but you miss out on so much more when you allow them to win.

    Dae Lee (Daeizm)

    (Source: daeizm)

  8. poeticanderoticdreams:

Writings from the great @daeizm speaks to me on many levels…🙌
    High Res

    poeticanderoticdreams:

    Writings from the great @daeizm speaks to me on many levels…🙌

  9. pressure // jhene aiko
    High Res

    pressure // jhene aiko

  10. (Source: asenshi, via lyrradsetab)

  11. It’s amazing to see my art infused with another’s art. Thank you @ohsoxquisit for giving my words life!

Painting by her.

Words by me.
    High Res

    It’s amazing to see my art infused with another’s art. Thank you @ohsoxquisit for giving my words life!

    Painting by her.

    Words by me.

  12. steryios-mal:

Masculine Waves (Onami)
c.1830, Katsushika Hokusai. (1760–1849)
    High Res

    steryios-mal:

    Masculine Waves (Onami)

    c.1830, Katsushika Hokusai. (1760–1849)

    (Source: katsushikahokusai.org, via blusgirll)