bullets

writes poems and songs and prayers and speaks shouts sings them into being.


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Reblogged from prana-miranda
Your purpose has nothing to do with what you do. There, I said it. Your purpose is about discovering and nurturing who you truly are, to know and love yourself at the deepest level and to guide yourself back home when you lose your way. That’s it. Everything else is your burning passion, your inspired mission, your job, your love-fueled hobby, etc. Those things are powerful and essential, but they’re not your purpose. Your purpose is much bigger than that. Kris Carr (via prana-miranda)

(via prana-miranda)

Reblogged from larmoyante
Three o’clock in the morning. The soft April night is looking at my windows and caressingly winking at me with its stars. I can’t sleep, I am so happy. Anton Chekhov, About Love and Other Stories (via larmoyante)

(via englishmajorinrepair)

Reblogged from odditiesoflife

The Most Beautiful Trees In The World

  1. Portland Japanese Garden, Portland, Oregon. Photo: Unknown
  2. Red maples trees path. Photo: Ildiko Neer
  3. Most beautiful wisteria tree in the world. Photo: Brian Young
  4. Yellow autumn in Central Park, New York. Photo: Christopher Schoenbohm
  5. Amazing Angel Oak Tree, Charlston, Photo by Mark Requidan.
  6. Cherry blossom tree path, Germany. Photo: Shoeven
  7. California in autumn. Photo: Mizzy Pacheco
  8. Jacaranda trees in bloom, South Africa. Photo: Falke
  9. Ponthus beech tree in Brocéliande forest, France. Photo: Christophe Kiciak
  10. Beautiful cherry blossom road. Photo: Unknown

(Source: onebigphoto.com, via lipstickandfreespeech)

Reblogged from dolorimeter

(Source: dolorimeter, via wordsfordays)

Reblogged from rarararambles
i’m sorry that you were not truly loved and that it made you cruel Warsan Shire (via rarararambles)

(via trotskylovesmebetter)

Reblogged from marginalutilite
Really can’t stand the phrase “at risk youth”. At risk of what? Colonialism? Imperialism? Violence from the state that puts them at “risk”?

Jessica Danforth, Native Youth Sexual Health Network (via marginalutilite)

Also “at risk” kids are usually “at risk” of abuse and neglect as well but people don’t like when you bring that up for some reason.

(via titspirational)

(Source: nativeyouthsexualhealth.com, via bandersnatchin)

Reblogged from ripopgodazippa

ripopgodazippa:

why is everyone acting like kid cudi in a crop-top is revolutionary when prince has been rocking crops for almost 3 decades

image

y’all late as usual

(via blackrockandrollmusic)

Reblogged from ribcagemoth

the only thing i remember
learning from my aunt is that its much easier
to spread butter on bread
with a spoon
instead of a knife and
i know that’s nothing significant, but not all of us
are heroes after we die.

most of us are just people
like you and me;
being thought of during the little things, like
standing at the kitchen counter
making toast.

lynn, e.m. (via authorofcolor)

(Source: ribcagemoth, via authorofcolor)

15/30

Observations Made During Juvenile Court

Shuffle the papers.
Name the case some person less name.
Do not look at the mother.
Her shoulders, curving toward her hips. Her body trying to swallow itself.
Her face is a sunken volcano, now empty.


She does not understand the language they keep using like an inside joke,
or a game of fast dancing cups.


Her child cannot look at her,
his brave face too important a shield to surrender,
remorse a target he cannot afford to wear when he passes back through the door.

He knows about being a target.
He knows a secret language too.
He knows the beauty of a defiant chin,

something not everybody knows how to see,

but his mother, she has it too.

c. 2014 Suzi Q. Smith

National Poetry Month 14/30 - Poems that I enjoy.  This is ‘Diving Into the Wreck’, by Adrienne Rich.

National Poetry Month 13/30 - Poems I love

Hanging Fire

by Audre Lorde

I am fourteen

and my skin has betrayed me   

the boy I cannot live without   

still sucks his thumb

in secret

how come my knees are

always so ashy

what if I die

before morning

and momma’s in the bedroom   

with the door closed.

I have to learn how to dance   

in time for the next party   

my room is too small for me   

suppose I die before graduation   

they will sing sad melodies   

but finally

tell the truth about me

There is nothing I want to do   

and too much

that has to be done

and momma’s in the bedroom   

with the door closed.

Nobody even stops to think   

about my side of it

I should have been on Math Team   

my marks were better than his   

why do I have to be

the one

wearing braces

I have nothing to wear tomorrow   

will I live long enough

to grow up

and momma’s in the bedroom   

with the door closed.