God gotta know he might have peaked when he made you.

there’s pieces of me

littered all over this city

my car wasn’t truth worthy

enough to get me many destinations

but there’s certain streets

that carried my car to

the places i needed to be

i’m just as contradictory as the

city of Los Angeles, but please

know that i’m working on trying

to truly say what i mean

all while keeping my conscious clean

it’s hard for me do so, but i should

be somewhat proud

i never saw myself making it past eighteen

kira malibu

i need more mutuals ..

i’m black queer woman (attraction not limited by gender/sex in any way), i love film, all things regarding the history of the marginalized and their radical politics, literature, poetry, fiber arts, MF DOOM, JPEGMAFIA, megan thee stallion, flo milli, carly rae jepsen, and cracking up . i rlly love cracking up . my blog is a fun place pls join me let’s be friends <3

Again, us black women are descendants from clouds. Like… can we talk about it more? Ngewo’s soul is imbued within our ethereality.

How our baby hairs reside amongst the surface of our hairlines, outlining the cautious curls of cirrus. How the oppressive heat causes our slicked, ulotrichous buns to melt into undulatus asperatus clouds, ones that we cannot stand. Even some of our patterns resemble pannus with the way our seraphic ringlets of tousled curls drape and tumble down our scalp. Then our nubilous, gloss-imbued lips glint of noctilucence when the orphic maiden of the night accentuate the shine upon the billowy exterior. How our skin—

And our skin, oh our skin, something that is suffused with murky mysteries, charmed a plethora of cloud gazers; ones that gained the audacity to stare, point, giggle, and determine without an ounce of anthropologic consideration. And yet they’ll run when the hue of the clouds are darkened with what they deem as murder or violence. They’ll fear, they’ll flee, they’ll gossip and gulp, but they’ll never in their lives worship what the cumulonimbus clouds, or infamously known as “thunder clouds”.

Thunder clouds? How absurd… Please, respect our titles. It’s cumulonimbus. But it’s “too hard to remember”, right? Thunder clouds are more memorable for your kids, right? Allows them to acknowledge us as malicious, right?

It’s not our fault for having the ineffable passion of a supercell cloud. It’s not our fault for reacting volatilely after they, yes, they, clouded us with blatant illusions and ratchet assumptions. Yet we’re the villains for simply… being on defense? Befitting, it seems.

Tuh, they haven’t even seen the worst.

Pretty black girl, ascend with me, m’kay?

i be that pretty motherfucker

✨masterlist + resources✨

requests are open readers are black coded

im not 18 yet so i will not be writing smut, yall can wait thank u

aave dictionary | my linktree | boxer boy info | taglist form

fics

☆ dreaming of you- selena (miles morales)

☆ agape- nicholas brittel (miles g morales x reader)

☆ boxer boy, p2 , p3

☆ right there- alina baraz (miles g x reader)

☆ ex-factor- lauryn hill (hobie brown x reader)

☆ i'm old fashioned- ileane woods (pavitr prabahakar x reader)

☆ nothing even matters- lauryn hill + d'angelo (miles g x reader)

☆ stars in the sky- phora + jhene aiko (miles g x reader)

☆ honey- kehlani (margo kess x reader)

sister advice

☆ shaving

☆ washing white clothes

☆ oral hygiene

poetry

☆ nothing tastes as good as skinny feels... except

☆ just friends

coming soon

☆ mourning doves- jhene aiko

☆ send in reqs!

xoxo,

a$ap rae 🩷

Battlegrounds

Temptations urges been enslavement I killed myself struggling demons left myself in the pavement another page another chapter the devil keep ppl from the past you know I practice my craft starting away from envy I repent and sin again but I’m always forgiving a child of God image of you I’m tryna to rebuke the devil been on my back I will keep continue wit broken bones even a man with a lot of testosterone deal wit depression dealing trapped in ya mind I ain’t hard to find even if I was a needle in a haystack the light continue to shine before it goes dark and walking in the black retribution and it’s sos salvation over starvation you didn’t give me life for no reason but there’s always somebody who kills for no reason only one who tryna harm you will predict ya death rest and reset standing in the blazing fire cause the pain I need to feel it why do we look for escapism to runaway from the pain just embrace it adapt wit it I know it’s a long journey but ya confessions wit ya story turn to glory the shackles been broken and the heart awakening it’s healed can’t avoid spiritual meal feet hurt until see the destination conquest destruction coming up in the ashes we all got questions but afraid to ask them plagues afraid to lookin the mirror at face cause of guilt pick apart like skin pigmentation it’s never late to return back home no citation the cries on the face dried like raisins protect me from the world cause it needs some raising when the begotten son comes I see the sky and heaven is raising ©️

Black Trauma Porn by ✨me✨

Musical Chairs (3/30)

We keep running round and round the chair and every time I think I'm about to win you snatch it from under me or pull me off of it. Instead of taking the chair for yourself and reveling in my defeat, you start the music up again and we start making circles, again. Because, in truth, you want me to win. You want me to be the one thing you couldn't see coming. The one chasing you and not the thrill.

The one sitting with you on the chair as the song ends.

Your "peace" is chilling

On it, malice skates.

My little fire is but an ember, but bright

And she deserves her rage.

For this fury is mine and it will not subside

I will not "heal."

Keep your complacent ice.

after me

after Halle Bailey, “Keep me close before you lose your chance.”

I am the embodiment of love, grace, and compassion.

Divine beauty cocooned by a brown shell and gold accents.

The rich descendant of Eve.

A servant of Jehovah Rapha.

More precious than rubies, silver, and gold.

I am unique.

From the follicles of my hair to the birth mark on the sole of my foot.

How dare I believe myself to be easily replaceable?

My flesh may be tossed to the side like arils of sour pomegranates, no longer suitable for use.

But the serenity of my mind and soul is not disposable.

It is all too great.

It’s the gravitational pull that brought you to me, is it not?

Be wise in all decisions you make.

Outstretch yourself to me before it is too late.

Good things don’t always last, and they don’t stick around for fools.

Hold tightly unto me, the one more precious than rubies, silver, and gold.

Allow chains of my love to bind you for eternity.

If you choose not to, just be aware that there is no falling in love after me…

Because who am I to believe myself to be easily replaceable?

Untitled #18

If I had to do it all over again, I would love you. I would love deeply with all the fibers of my being. I would love you more than all the words ever written about love. My heart would never break because your love is the armor. Your love is my safest place besides the thoughts of my mind. Your love heals and transforms the terrors of my past. Your love transcends the fickle love I once knew. And I would love you. More than the vibration when the oceans meets the sea. And I would love you. More than a child unaware of the inequities of the world, with the ability to love freely. I would you more than the unknown. And I would love you. 

-Jocelyn B.

The Perfect Ease of Grain

The perfect ease of grain Time enough to spill The flavor of a woman carried through the rain. Honey-talk tongues Down home dreams A rushed by shapely prayer. Evening lips part to hush Questions raised at dawn. The melon yields another slice. Fingers understand. Ecstasy becomes us all. Red cherries become jam. Deep juvenile sleep A whistle trace White shorelines in green air. Welcome doors held open When goodbye is "So long." The perfect poise of grain Time enough to spill The flavor of a woman remembered on a train. Written by Toni Morrison

Courtesy of; https://www.afropoets.net/tonimorrison.html

Black Queer Figures Day 4

A day late because my cat laid on me and I fell asleep writing this.

Audre Lorde

Lorde was born in 1934, the youngest of three daughters to Caribbean immigrants. As a child, she began memorizing poetry and reciting it to express her emotions, reflecting later that she had begun to think in poetry.  At age 12 she began writing her own poetry. Lorde ended up attending Hunter College High School, a school for gifted students. It was during this time-period that she published her first poem in Seventeen magazine, and participated in poetry workshops. After high school, she spent a year at the National University of Mexico, where she confirmed her identity as a poet and a lesbian. Afterwards, Lorde attended Hunter College, and then Columbia University, earning a master's in library science. In 1962 Lorde married Edwin Rollins, a gay man, to protect both their identities. The couple had two children and divorced in 1970. During her career as a writer and professor, Lorde published works on feminism, blackness, injustice, motherhood, sexuality, and her fight with cancer. Notable works include From A Land Where Other People Live, Coal, Sister Outsider, The Black Unicorn,  The Cancer Journals, and Zami: A New Spelling of My Name. Lorde also helped found Kitchen Table: Women of Color Press, Women's Coalition of St. Croix, and Sisterhood of Support Sisters in South Africa, and was New York's State Poet from 1991-1992. She also influenced the Afro-German movement in Berlin. Lorde died of breast cancer in 1992, living in St. Croix with her partner Gloria Joseph.

Poem - Langston Hughes

Women’s Rights

Why did they have to silence

What is a man’s strength

The one behind the man

Is who men are searching

It means she’s the smarts

His embodiment of strength

She’s his head

He’s what she thinks

His power is her love

Her war is his fight

Why couldn’t I vote

Who said I didn’t have the right

I am who watched

What he created

Don’t you think I had a thought

In his creation

Smiling in his glory

Or was it a she

Could be opposite

Who cares not me

All that matters

Is us as unity

I wasn’t separated

Just we are a well oiled machine….

Poetry

Incarnation innocent brothers facing death penalty will they ever see freedom I think black ppl is slaved from the corruption get killed for no reason from season to season my innocence don’t match the eyes of the ppl who called us animals the black image always mirrored negativity all we need is god protection and better life selection and a more calmer environment chasing millions for kids grandkids so we can settle for retirement instead they watching us getting killed hail fire of bullets from the policemen and this is why we riot cause no justice and these activist today ain’t doing shit for us in the streets can barely breathe got money for the kids to eat that’s why we march down the streets wit our black fist in the sky I love my black skin never thinking of another race but mine I’ll die in my black skin resting peacefully and other race wanna be black then switch the shoes of our feet don’t just don’t be a culture vulture ©️