Nice Things
People have been saying very nice things to me lately. While I appreciate it and them, I would rather hear the truth. Even if it hurts. Not an angry, attacking truth, but calm, helpful truth.
But then I wonder what is wrong with me that I have trouble believe that “nice things ” are true.
look at you
you’re so beautiful when you laugh
at night i swear you look like you could swallow the stars
or atleast swallow the scars
and stories of the women who came before you.
see how your hair torments the sky
thick curls that blot out the sun
eclipsing the city into the hue
of your grandfathers
midnight skin.
your father wanted to name you
after a wet season
he wanted to explain
why the rain falls;
just so that it can taste your skin
dip into your collar bone
drip down your shoulder blades
and on the rare occasions when no one is looking
and your head is tilted back,
rush into your open mouth.
for women like you
death comes in the body of a lustful man,
and the earth can’t wait to bury itself
inside you.
look at you,
cloaked in god’s skin.
only in his name could you exist so bright.
“
| — |
poem to self. and other insecure women. (via lily-calla) |
My biggest problem is that there is simply no creativity in movies with black casts at all. White people are 12 year old wizards, teens with crushes on vampires and werewolves, fighting blue people, talking fish and toys, and yet the best we get is a movie about the genteel south? Someone please make a movie about two black folks falling in love at a rock concert or a feature film about Storm from X-Men discovering her power, or something, ANYTHING, that goes beyond Black Pain (TM) / White Saviour (TM) movies. Sheesh.
“
| — |
A commenter on “Why I’m Just Saying No to ‘The Help’” (via atrapforfools) FUCKING THIS. (via so-treu)
Pretty much. (via kyssthis16) SO. MUCH. THIS. TIMES. INFINITY. (via squeetothegee) |
