Billie Holiday
saw them then. Those fruit still swing
from grandfather clocks
h

Kiana Khansmith
AnasAbdin
we're not kids anymore.
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
d e v o n
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

@theartofmadeline
Keni

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
wallacepolsom
ojovivo
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Claire Keane
RMH
seen from TĂĽrkiye

seen from Malaysia

seen from Spain

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from China

seen from Belgium
seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Spain

seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Belgium

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Ireland
@onlymi-blog
Billie Holiday
saw them then. Those fruit still swing
from grandfather clocks

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
As Strong as We Make It
There are so many wonders built in life that simply take the breath away.
How could mere man have forged such landmarks that last for lifetimes, stand through empires, maintain lost civilizations, and pay homage to lost practices of patience.
The pyramids, the sphinx, the temples and statues and towers…the bridges…
all began as nothing more than an empty space on the ground, a spot of dust that some architect of the masterful found
and decided was potential enough for greatness.
Bridges, tombs, cave drawings…
such revelations of creativity, innovative superiority and strength…
last for centuries standing.
But even these odes to dead and forgotten patrons and footfalls require the maintenance of delicate attention
many of these masterpieces would not last without constant re-fortification, constant love and care from the patient
the strongest walls are not held up by mortar but by resilience.
Now it may not seem like much more than a series of lucky survivings of a dying history, but to me
that is love.
Love is the constant care of a temple so beautiful that even if you don’t understand the origins of it, the conception that led to every curve and crevice and crack on her smooth aging skin you would do all that you could to keep its beauty whole and spread the awe of her wonder to those around you
Love is the reinforcement of that towering man who stands tall as a sure sign to passerby that there is a right path, a sure lead, evidence of magnificence in its purest built form that men for generations can look up to
Love is…building bridges that don’t resist and crumble at the slightest wind but bend and sway and adapt to the challenges of the world around it so that the nature of either side never loses that beautiful connection spreading those feelings between two unlikely points in two otherwise unconnected lives
Love is not strength but fortification. Know that I am only as strong as the hands that keep me up when everything around me is left crumbling and calling to me to fall to pieces with it.
Know that I am only strong because there is someone out there who will pass me by and see all the scars in my frame and see not the decay of life but the beauty that deserves both admiration and preservation
I pray every day to be someone’s sanctuary…
a sign that ties them to lessons passed and experiences new where they can build a family within a community that is my heart and love all there is to my strength.
You see me and see strength and independence
but a building only stands this tall when someone sees the need for care in keeping it up…
I want that love.
Society.
People mistake double consciousness for exclusivity and accuse those who belong to a group that must have this dualilty of excluding or setting themselves apart from either group they familiarize their identities with. It is the struggle to juggle cultures, the one that is ours and the one that is treated as above ours in society. We aren’t making secret handshakes or ignoring propriety in exchange for trends. We are not neglecting our potential intelligence by welcoming the colloqualisms of our own culture into discourse. It is not fakeness to be bi-cultural as some have become bilingual. We speak the language and norms of our oppressors as well as our own.
Reliability
He feels like the weekend,
a reprieve as fleeting as it is soothing,
one that we yearn for each time it ends,
but never grow brave enough to outgrow.
This is not a love between
soul mates but still somehow I trust
him with the depth of something as unyieldingÂ
as fate…he is everything I hate.
I hate opening up to someone and having
to pray from every moment forthÂ
that they will not walk away andÂ
stretch that shared burden across
miles that my soul does not know how to balance.
Never to return, it would be a constant trickle
of life from a wound to the soul
with no way to bandage the source of the flow
I know that I am making an ocean out of tap water, a tornado from a whistle
But this is all I know how to do
Write stanza after stanza about you, me and you…
The weekend (3/16/2013 and before…)
03_24_13
Spoon fed love, as if those involved have become too sick with distrust to hunt for their own sustenance. Romantically starved loneliness unquenched… Resentment belched from her depths leaves behind a pitiful stench. Cravings like high metabolism in her second trimester, She yearns not for pickles and soy sauce but the hum of a strong voice in her ear as it’s owner caresses away the crankiness Of her emotional hungers, Starving like this her days are numbered.
No nutrition nearby just naked cannibals helping him into this pot of boiling insecurities, Misogynistic impurities sprinkled on cholesterol building fury… This poor young man is too young for the heart attacks Caused by these starved predators hunting for a husband, a lover, a guide, that’ll survive their cookie cutters shaped like a faithful, providing, fatherly, unrealistic CEO of God knows what. This man would rather burn in…an oven than let some cannibal (with no taste for the organic uncompromised sustenance he will one day age into like a fine aged wine) cut away all the fat that defines his spectrum of potential tastes. He merely gives endless taste tests to those starving to the point of unrest, No sympathy to the young woman eyeing him like a non risen pastry Starving like this his days are numbered… Unless they wander into a market of compatibility
scent luring like brewing coffee beans promising a heart pounding, bittersweet encounter
With a carefully crafted, still fresh off the heat but not too burned, taste so good he or she has to close his or her eyes and groan,
yet still a healthy enough and back boned man and/or woman of sustenance

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Me again! (I’m done) lol
Been thinking
I’ve never been one to date to combat my loneliness…that’s treating people like medication. I hurt sometimes but solitude is a part of life. One day I’ll look up and there’ll be someone who I can’t remember being without and want around more than I’ve ever wanted the company of either other…he’ll be the one to have me for as long as God wills…some people think that’s complicated but I’ve never felt like any decision were simpler.. When I start to struggle I just remind myself life isn’t something you can plan. The parts you cherish the most are the parts gifted to you unexpectedly…
Paintings from the series Power by Nigerian-American artist Dawn Okoro.
October: Highlighting African Art & African Artists
Second to last, “Breathe Easy,” I wrote an ekphraistic poem for my Poetry course on this image. I really love Okoro’s works and when it came time to write about an image for class, she was the first artist to come to mind. I wanted to do something contemporary and relevant to me as an individual. I went straight to her works. Had a good time writing and critiquing and revising my poems so I guess I’ll post:
On Dawn Okoro’s “Breathe Easy”
 Her head tilts back
pulling your attention
not quite
to the center
still
it seems as if
serene purple
spills from her
like an extension
becomes a focal for attention.
 And dark mocha-skinned Serenity
must feel the power she exudes
like hot water
from a faucet.
Her many facets of color
exemplify her namesake,
Serenity,
fully dressed in yellows
runs her hands over her own
relaxation.
 And you glimpse total relief,
you want to shower in the same
liquid restoration
of purples and yellows and
beautiful brown,
soothing libations.
You do not know
what emotion
brought Serenity
to culmination.
 And you do not know the feeling
of pure relief expressed in Serenity’s
pose. Yet you watch her
you begin to feel as though the air
in her world is what you’ve been missing
You can almost see
the first moment
when a butterfly opens its wings to the air
and finally realizes what it feels like
to breathe easy.
Written by Me. Few months old, but still more recent than anything I’ve been posting. Tryna end this unintentional hiatus I’ve been on soon…
Another by Me. From the same time frame. I try not to write often towards people instead of emotions but this one came to me in the middle of a bad week with someone. Can’t resent poetic inspiration I guess…

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Last one I’ll post. It’s #1 is also on this page not too far back if you feel like digging and it’s easy better in my opinion. This poem was accidental. Written for my poetry course, I started with a phrase I overheard outside eavesdropping and was told to run with it. This is where I ran…
People always think they know other people, but they don’t. Not really. I mean, maybe they know things about them, like they won’t eat doughnuts or they like action movies or whatever. But they don’t know what their friends do in their rooms alone at night or what happened to them when they were kids or if they feel f*cked up and sad for no reason at all.
Libba Bray (via wordsnquotes)
“You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you in the head” cop tells man who he just shot.
FUCK THE POLICE
Photography: Pedro Bucher
Make-up: Fox Goulart
Model: Mahany Pery
But in reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself.
C.S. Lewis, An Experiment in Criticism (via wordsnquotes)

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
HOW TO BE SUCCESSFUL:
focus on your own shit.
Photography by Ed Singleton for Models.com - Ajak Deng and Maria Borges  - Africa Rising