whatever happened to rihanna when she first started singing she was like yee mista dj song pon de replay and now shes like fuck me with a shovel and slap my titties
bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…HA. hilarious. so true. …but i like her new songs better. *side eye*
(via profashionall)
{Azmarie.} bilal voice sometimes…
Looking at old pics on muh phone. August 27,2010. Not sure where I was but this is rather beautiful. Sumn bout water and Sun.
{work scribbles.}
“Invisibly. Emotionally. Tied to this desk. This desk. Sit down. Shut up. Do your job fantastically well. Praise falls from the Outlook gods. Smiles. Nods. Acceptance. Is this the goal? Money and bills. Dreams lie still. Suspended in mid-life. So while I spin in this cushioned spinner I whisper tales of freedom into my dream’s ear and then place my lips to its heart. Add some funk to the rhythm with an old school beatbox. Wake up. You remember. Right? Right?!”
“I danced with you once upon a world so faded and distant. One single step keylessly handcuffed to thoughts and memories that I only wish faded as fast as my fondness for us . We danced once. Cheek to cheek and breast to breast. And no, it’s not that I didn’t enjoy the dance…the music just stopped.”
“My drum don’t sound like yours. Blessed by all that surrounds me to think and not think just a tad bit differently.”
And that’s what happens when I have a pen in my hand and some blank paper. I always prefer blank paper opposed to lined paper - that way I can make words bend around pictures and doodles. Ya know, make my own lines. :)
- Emmett Till, a black boy from a Chicago, was visiting his grandfather and grand-uncle Mose Wright in the town of Money, Mississippi, population about 360. Although warned by his mother not to talk to whites, he disregarded that warning, saying “Bye, baby” to Carolyn Bryant, a white woman working at Bryant’s Grocery and Meat Market. Till and his cousin, Curtis Jones, were told to leave town. They did not. One week later, J. W. Milam and his half-brother Roy Bryant arrived at Wright’s house, and abducted the “nigger here from Chicago.” They beat him to death, gouging out one of his eyes, and dumped his weighted body into the Tallahatchee River. An all-white jury found the two not guilty. Emmett’s mother, Mamie, insisted on an open-casket funeral where his beaten, pulpy face was visible to the public, hoping her child did not die in vain.
“Look what they did to my boy.”
Literally crying looking at this - it’s graphic, I know, but I have to reblog this because it NEEDS to serve as a reminder of just how we were treated - even as innocent children - and that it was only 56 years ago. It’s sickening. Absolutely fucking sickening.
(via sacredlotusj)
- 1. Sexuality
- - i love it. ?
- 2. Insecurities
- - not being enough.
- 3. Best memory
- - feeling a woman's heartbeat next to mine.
- 4. Worst memory
- - um. pap smear? lol
- 5. Last person you kissed
- - : )
- 6. Why?
- - because i'm frisky and she like it.
- 7. Last thing you fantasized about
- - ha. nsfw.
- 8. Greatest fears.
- - not living my dreams.
- 9. How did you change over the last 3 years?
- - grew up. and out. learned entirely too much about myself.
- 10 .What do you want more than anything?
- - to never want for anything.
- 11. Bad habit
- - ignoring you.
- 12. Crush
- - : )
- 13. Virgin?
- - yes and no.
- 14. Biggest regrets
- - non.
- 15. Wildest thing you've ever done
- - candle wax + blindfold + rope + leash
- 16. Hottest teacher at your school
- - lol. mannnnn collins circa 2002. all my college professors were old men. ugh, science department.
- 17. Where do you see yourself in 5+ years
- - living the dream.
- 18. Favourite band
- - hampton university marching pirates (the F.O.R.C.E.)
- 19. Worst thing you've ever said to your mother
- - dont remember. ask her.
- 20. Weirdest dream
- - ha. i dream crazyness every night.
sometimes i just have this desire to hold someone.
not in a sexual way or anything like that. more of a “i’m here” kind of way. like a protector.
i really love the fact that i have a dad. like, he’s a real dad. the man who lets you sit on his shoulders when you can’t walk through the park anymore. the guy who sits up while you sleep trying to catch the cricket in your room. the monster fighter. the bug killer. the big bear hug giver. the lightbulb changer. the dude that goes out at 2am to get medicine cause your kid has a fever. not too hard. not too soft. the perfect balance.
i can see how a woman may want to re-create that…the same way some men want to re-create that “spoiled” feeling that momma’s give. but ya know, i never wanted another “dad”. one’s enough for me. and I def don’t want another “mom” lol. but what i have found is that i haven enjoyed being that figure.
the “i know everything’s going to be ok if you’re there” person. the bug killer (yoooo!!!! cept for this one time when a lizard came in my apt. i. was. DONE.!!) lol. the heavy box lifter. the bottle opener. the arms that make you feel safe as long as you’re in them.
nah mean?!
