it is written.

gibsunrising:

So inspired by Lianne La Havas’ work (and her ‘mellow-dee-us’ voice) that I had to draw her. I heard through the grapevine she’s a visual artist too, so I know she’d appreciate it! 

-Robalu

murktarat yussuf- this here treehouse?

(Source: boohoolindalieu, via takecarefarewell)

anayajahzara:

:)

oddballsdontbounce:

i sat outside of my body and watched you tell me i was doing it all wrong
i am blinking and it sounds like water and you are so hungry all hands all mouth i am
only eyes i blink hugely i make a list of everything i have had to leave behind
you don’t even know me you don’t even know me
why do you…

highscilence:

Head (1981)

Basquiat

A head is just a house for a brain, you know. And a brain is just a person. So a head is just a house. And a brain looks a whole lot like a mess of tangled electrical wires. So, a person’s just a tangle. And electrical wires are pipes for currents of energy. So a…

a ghost building is what happens when one half of a townhouse is abandoned or when structures are deserted, a shared party wall is all the remains 

z: there is something so beautiful about that wall- I cannot tell you what it is. 

y: i know what it is- those are the remains of homes. see the wallpaper?

z: my God. 

a suspended dinner table a       fat mother sponging back into her wedding dress the mirror and her husband                                              saying you’re not beautiful but you’re here                   the boiling daughter on a staircase                  she scraped her knee or some other small funeral                               only after a structure is destroyed I dream of the wound                the splinter            not the meal                           what would            the inside of your cheek leave me                 come on girl bully your sadness into the incinerator                                the house could not have burnt down because                                     they are houses                              do the families on the other side ache                                     or feel like they are always losing their keys is it a pain so small                you could pick it out of your teeth                  if you only knew what tooth it was in                      and               maybe                     had some nails i can’t imagine windows anymore                          the mother of the blue striped square in my heart your name                        would be easy to erase i could touch you and not understand                    how you are there                       is no word in English for the buildings we failed to swallow                                            what woman ate this house you know it is a woman                smeared behind                           I want to howl like I’ve lost my hands                      god how can wallpaper             be a kitchen                       and a grave

                                                                                      a small autobiography

                                                                                      of the little nuances 

miles davis had a huge forehead but was not known for it 

which meant you would only know to look at if if you had seen it 

of quilt and crowbar his legacy is

meaning you must remember st. louis and the Midwest 

all I see are cows when I write that 

cows and Idaho

by Idaho I mean potatoes 

all I know of Idaho is what grows underneath it

and wasn’t he such a pretty boy marinate 

til the fibers tear apart what funeral were you always dressing for I would 

only know to look for it

if I had seen it how many times

have I seen miles davis die marinate 

till all the fibers 

tear apart 

I mean I guess it’s just a question of desire 

what do ou wade in davis 

the dewey eyed merchant you is

what tore you up would I only see it if 

I knew to see it if I had seen it before are

you trying to tell me something I am supposed to already know

all I know of you

is what grows underneath is what marinate till all

the fibers dressed for a funeral you

already know don’t you you 

playing that horn you are dressing sound for its funeral all I know

is I would only know to look at it

if I had seen it and trust me davis 

I’ve seen men die before

                                                       aziza meets charlie parker at

                                                       an unspecified bar on 52nd Street

and she looked at him he was a forest of floating caskets and that was just in the eyes she saw his appetites shovel him at the joints those cruel miners it is frightening to see a wrist mid-excavation this shock the same as seeing your mother naked to see the scars of your birth on her abdomen she can tell he wants to run away but he has at least ten small graves keeping his body at the counter maybe what she did next was out of pity maybe there was no behavior to give it a name a name is one of many small borrowings maybe she wanted to own something that day she took his liter of whiskey broke the bottle into a set of shark teeth and carved a front door into her neck she looked at charlie and coughed walk inside this city is perishable but it’s warm here bird don’t you know i would die for you

66lanvin:

wine-and-chocolates:

REBLOG NOW

4 TRAYVON…………No.1

(Source: jaynekennedi, via black-culture)

before performing at NYU’s 7 Leaders, 7 Issues, 7 Minutes event- me and Dr. Cornel West.