she asked,
‘you are in love,
what does love look like’
to which i replied,
‘like everything i’ve ever lost
come back to me’- nayyirah waheed
(Source: miguu, via nayyirahwaheed)
Close
,,
i am a silk field of vulnerability.
nayyirah waheed (via nayyirahwaheed)
(Source: miguu, via nayyirahwaheed)
,,
you should save
yourself some time
and
energy.
i don’t argue.
because what you don’t know is
i have ancestors to the right,
left,
below and above me.
i hail from africa, the mother of human life.
i have love the depths of all oceans combined.
my skin in black.
my eyes are planets.
and my mouth is a rose machete.
i am magic.
and
now you know.
you don’t want it with me, nayyirah waheed
(Source: nayyirahwaheed, via yutke)
,,
I feel like I’ve swallowed a cloudy sky.
Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart (via moonbrains)
(Source: larmoyante, via yutke)
,,
Sometimes when I’m alone
I Cry,
Cause I am on my own.
The tears I cry are bitter and warm.
They flow with life but take no form
I Cry because my heart is torn.
I find it difficult to carry on.
If I had an ear to confiding,
I would cry among my treasured friend,
but who do you know that stops that long,
to help another carry on.
The world moves fast and it would rather pass by.
Then to stop and see what makes one cry,
so painful and sad.
And sometimes…
I Cry
and no one cares about why.
tupac shakur, i cry. (via black-poetry)
“Into the Night” by Martin Egblewogbe
A story, timeless:
it tells itself again
and the waves beat again and froth the shore
and the waves beat again and froth the shore
The sun is westering.
Ancient winds thunder across the water.
Soon the moon will be sailing,
glinting on the scales of the old sea-monster.
and the waves beat again and froth the shore
beat again and froth the shore
froth the shore
froth the shore
the story tells itself again
o wonder that it does not exhaust!
Starlight will soon pierce the orb.
Wild, wild, world of long ago
exploding volcanoes and boiling seas.
Winged beasts mounted the air
and man was but a worm.
But in promethean glare
– yet it has been but a flash –
the worm became man, and the man
becomes a worm again.
and the waves beat and froth the shore
beat and froth the shore
again.
,,
I sit before flowers
hoping they will train me in the art
of opening up
Shane Koyczan, excerpt from “The Student”
(Source: buddhacoffee, via yutke)
We’ve all led raucous lives,
some of them inside, some of them out.
But only the poem you leave behind is what’s important.
Everyone know this.
The voyage into the interior is all that matters,
Whatever your ride.
Sometimes I can’t sit still for all the asininities I read.
Give me the hummingbird, who has to eat sixty times
His own weight a day just to stay alive.
Now that’s a life on the edge.—Charles Wright, from “27,” in Littlefoot (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2007)
(via yutke)
