#the black poets

[jamerasjournal]

I wish I was your favorite book. So you’d run your fingers down my spine, spread me open, read my lips. I laughed and told you I said “olive juice” when you asked me if I said I love you. Because those two phrases look the same when you mouth them with no sound. Read them again. You were right the first time.

But I’m not your favorite book. I am just dust. Slipping through the hourglass that you call your hands. Still falling. Plummeting into a sea of sand that I call you. I want to ask why you haven’t closed your fists yet. Why you don’t want to hold on to me the same way that I hold on to you. Pack me in like clay. They say that grief is just love with no place to go, and that is why I’ve been crying.

Unrequited love is like holding your breath without knowing. Like one day I just woke up and realized I was drowning in you. Me, drowning- yet you only wade in me and call it swimming. I know when I exhale, I will blow down the walls you have built around yourself. I don’t want to be the big bad wolf. I fear that you will mistake this passion for fangs. Take your little red hood off and look me in my eyes. Or maybe it’s just a red flag. And these rose colored glasses that I’ve been regarding you with are shattered now, and I’m finally seeing your true colors.

You say that you love me, but it’s not quite the way that I need. And you fail to realize that you can’t just love something, you also have to take care of it. I burned myself trying to give you the sun. And the breadcrumbs you leave me are just salt in my wounds. And my heart is on fire. Give me your hand and I’ll light yours like a candle. And we can burn in this dumpster fire until something beautiful like a phoenix rises up out of it.

You don’t have to be afraid. Don’t you see the soot on my face? Smell the smoke on my breath? I have already walked through the fire trying to show you how much I love you. I plummeted through the ozone layer like an asteroid to get back to you this lifetime. And only you can stop this forest fire.

I can teach you how to fall. If only you believed that I will catch you. I am choking on the ashes that have dusted my lungs. It has taken me so long to get tired because you’re my favorite book. I want to run my fingers down your spine, spread you like pages but you keep me shut out. I read your lips. Did you say, “I love you?”Or maybe just “olive juice.” I’ll read them again. I hope I got it right the first time. Because if you don’t loop your fingers through mine, I’m afraid I can’t keep going. I am slipping through the hourglass you call your hands. There’s not much more of me left to give you. Draw your fists tight or I will leave you in the dust.

-jamera naquai, Dust To Dust

[onsomeplanet]

Taylor Swift watching her ex on a location app because he forgot to turn it off I'm obsessed with you admitting that to the entire world.

[luciferslilith7]

Death whispered,"I'll love you more than life ever can."

Picture Credit ~📍 pinterest

@luciferslilith7

[rthwrms]

it's a poem about space, see?

image credits and information can be found here

[biboomerangboi]

Irish-uwufication is so fucking weird anyway but like people act like Hozier - who writes primarily blues songs about politics, books and music he finds interesting, and having sex with hot women he picks up in bars - is just a nature man is so weird. Like you have Americans saying he is a bog man, he only writes acoustic songs about chaste love and nature. He lives in the woods and doesn’t interact with society at all. He is made of trees and fairies because that’s what Ireland is.

[florida3exclamationpoints]

THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

[robotpussy]

RIP Benjamin Zephaniah (15th April 1958 – 7th December 2023)

Dub poet, novelist, lyricist and playwright, Dr. Benjamin Zephaniah paved the way for so many black british writers with his pen. His work focussed on racism within the UK and colonialism.

It is so cliche to start talking about somebody's work once they pass away but I would like to do so anyway:

"Too Black Too Strong" (2001) - Poems that address the struggles of black Britain that, compared to his works before, are much more forceful. Some of the poems featured in this were written when he was working with Michael Mansfield QC and other Tooks barristers on the Stephen Lawrence case. (Available on The Anarchist Library)

"Propa Propaganda" (1996) - His second collection of poetry that continues to surround around the themes of anti-colonialism, racism and anti-establishment features some of his most famous works such as "I Have a Scheme", "The Angry Black Poet" and "White Comedy"

"Rasta Time in Palestine" (1990) - a travelogue and a collection of poetry he wrote while visiting occupied Palestinian territories. (Available on Internet Archive). Zephaniah was an avid supporter of the Palestinian Solidarity Campaign and attended demonstrations calling for an end to the Israeli occupation of Palestinian land. The photo above is of Zephaniah at a London Protest in 2010.

[outromoony]

This reminds me so much of that scene in TCOPTP where even tho Remus hated the rain, he watched Sirius and James play and laugh under it with so much love and fondness that It made him wonder if he didn't hate the rain so much after all.

(acc: guine_evere on IG)

[jamerasjournal]

“Birds flying high, you know how I feel. Sun in the sky, you know how I feel.” Do you know how it feels? To have the television keep showing you your nightmare could easily be your reality? You know, the nightmare when they call Mr. Lock It to the office. 4.7 seconds. That’s how long it takes to get from the whiteboard to the door. Maybe less, cuz my adrenaline will be rushing. 6.3 seconds from the classroom door to the recess door. Turn the lights off, put paper over the window, close the blinds. Yes, I’ve timed it. A relay race for my life. How fast can I secure the classroom before death comes to greet us at the door. I practice once month. The stopwatch ain’t shown me a time that feels fast enough. In this profession, I wear so many hats. Teacher, nurse, therapist, friend, and now- soldier. But what’s a stapler to an AR-15? What’s a bloody nose to a gunshot wound. Hold your head back and look up at that flag flying high. With the stars shot out of it like white doves against a blue sky. They say that doves signify peace and gentleness but to me they just mean death cuz I’ve only seen them released at funerals. I don’t remember signing up to work the graveyard shift. Do you know I feel? That I wish I could stretch this body like Elasti- Girl and absorb those metal fragments. Or make a force field like Violet, but my last name ain’t Incredible, just Ewing. And I have 20 5-year olds looking at me like I’m a superhero, knowing damn well I don’t know how to save the day. I wonder if my students’ parents know I would take a bullet for their baby. I carry the same sense of dread in my gut that my mother carries in hers. Both of us wondering who’s classroom is it gonna be first? I wonder how many bullets this body can take? How about hers, she’s not much bigger than me. I tell my students not to touch the flag because it’s disrespectful. What I mean to say is, you might get on your blood on your hands. Them red stripes like tattered cardinal feathers. And they say cardinals signify love. Yeah, the love of guns. And there’s two cardinal points that must be borne in mind, this black life don’t matter and neither does this profession. Are you scared, cuz I’m scared? Do you know how I feel? Huddle in the corner, turn your voices off. Imagine telling a kindergartner that if they cry we’re gonna die. This is the most important quiet game you’ll ever play in your life. If you’re scared just say the pledge of allegiance over and over in your head. Red, white, and blue. Blue like a blue jay. They signify protection. I hope it keeps us safe as I pray to my God. Pray til this black face turns blue. Are you scared, cuz I’m scared? And if that day ever comes I wonder what I’ll do in the aftermath. That is if I make it. Cuz I know if a bullet don’t take me out, survivors guilt surely will. Which of my catch phrases will I be able to utter first. 1, 2, 3, all eyes on me. Does your body hurt or do your feelings hurt? Or maybe, if you can hear my voice, take a deep breath. If you can hear my voice, please take a deep breath. Somebody, anybody take a deep breath. This classroom is too quiet for all the wrong reasons. Nina said it’s a new dawn, it’s a new day. But I ain’t feeling too good. Ain’t no birds flying, high, but that flag in the sky though. And you still don’t know how I feel. When every day we pledge allegiance to the same 3 birds. The dove of Death, The Cardinal Love of Guns, and the Blue Jay that offers no protection. And I am just a sitting duck.

- jamera naquai, Bird Season

[gofightwin]

it’s happening again, how did it end?

[taylornation]

We’re unsealing THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT files for one last chance to pre-order your favorite special edition vinyl, deluxe CDs, and cassettes before publication on April 19. 🗃️

As the old simile goes, move swift af boi, because the special editions are available for 48 hours, and all editions have limited supply. 🤍

[taylorlq]

so tortured, so poet

[sheisobvious]

the tortured poets department ♡

[cheekios]

Please Bring Kaiser Home.

I have been having complications with managing my diabetes that have led me to be hospitalized twice. I live alone. Kaiser is a precious pup that specializes in detecting when blood sugar is too high or too low before it leads to complications. Something I have been struggling with. Kaiser would not only improve my quality of life but also be my companion and friend

I’m asking for community support get a Medical Alert Dog. It is a huge ask but any support is appreciated 💗

CA: $HushEmu

PP: emuslayter@gmail.com

[stillgotscars]

going from “chains around my demons” to “and hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons, even if i die screaming” is such a punch in the gut

[cormeliastreet]

THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT — Taylor Swift