Orpheus lay headless. Astute in tragedy! Coarse hair, so unlike a paltry death. A veil still covers the face of Eurydice, a covering washed in Mediterranean waves. A morning became, a carnival. “Your playing causes the sun to rise!” Rising, the sun shines a samba. Smiling, she unveils herself.
I don’t care. I just don’t fucking care. I was resistant, pushing against this exact current that I am now becoming. An ancient stone that forced water to part before it. I hurt you, I fucking hurt you, and I continue to. Because, a drunken stupor is not a genuine stupor, but a blunder, a toy stuffed only to be outgrown. A bastard child of the deepness of my ocean. However, an image...
adailyriot: What if the Tea Party were black? taniada: edman: Nailed it. “Protest is only seen as fundamentally American when those who have long had the luxury of seeing themselves as prototypically American engage in it. When the dangerous and dark “other” does so, however, it isn’t viewed as normal or natural, let alone patriotic. Which is why Rush Limbaugh could say, this past...
annarverold: Awake My Soul - Mumford & Sons
There are sunsets that I don’t see. Deep colors that cry death. Hold me, do not bite as though I were open, as if I were rolling waves of green, to be jumped into. An old man saw nothing. The windows and its blinds were shut. Illness, was the reason they told him. In waiting, because perhaps he’ll be held soon, even when he knew nothing was going to return. Not...
She was a young widow in the growing shantytowns, hiding vital newspapers under her bushels of plátanos. Shiftless, green; angry, yellow. Smiles as big as the dirt piles, surrounding the homes Green, waste; yellow, toxic. Soccer balls as innumerable as untraced violence. The town was by the sea, you could see from where they lived in the mountains, and where most of the doors were...
The Myth of Charter Schools →
“Waiting for “Superman” and the other films appeal to a broad apprehension that the nation is falling behind in global competition. If the economy is a shambles, if poverty persists for significant segments of the population, if American kids are not as serious about their studies as their peers in other nations, the schools must be to blame. At last we have the culprit on which we can pin...
"Push Michael Moore Off a Cliff": Health Insurance... →
Check check it.
“My horse, it is gone.” Stolen in the rain, I become a dagger, a rose, a current. Becoming what the rain becomes. Stealing what the rain steals.
Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier...– Homer, The Iliad. (via cherrycrushx, jssrth-) (via nekroterrorist) (via starduststarless) (via excessofnothing, lucidambiguity)
annarverold: Did you see what we just did there, Emmanuel? When we speak in parenthesis— it is like we are in another world, together (alone). (Everything Here sounds of Whispers, and I like your voice) :3 Jennifer and I talk in whispers. The only reason I listen to her is because she has a beautiful voice. :3
annarverold: You exist beneath the same sun as I. Your heart beats, and you breathe, and you think and blink, and your blood pumps (just like mine). I forget you’re real, and that you eat dinner and take showers. That even though I don’t hear you, or see you, or feel you— you get tired eyes, too. You make eye contact with strangers, and run parallel to your own infinity. You get angry, and you...
No Se Cuándo.
No se cuándo sentio esto. No se cuándo mis palabras se cayo, como los labios de su boca (que quiero besar, sin orgullo y con miel). No se cuándo mis dedos se congeló, como algunes lobos existin en los montañas. En la luz de la dia peudo sentir como humano, y puedo sonrier como si fuere un nino muy joven. En la sombres de la luna puedo amarte como la espirito que enverdad soy. Un cosa...
We are accused of terrorism if we defended land and the honor of dust if we...– Nizar Qabbani