You pick a frame then censor it, making sure it is remote inside any object. Turn your body to face this way also at all times during spouts of creation. it doesn’t matter what you had to say once your mouth is open, suffer the numerous miniature envelopes telling you what time will be. translate them first from their original matt black. Your task is complete firstly, all you can do is clean the audience around it and employ many staff to tell the people you don’t ship to Botswana. The Botswana will come to you, isn’t that the dream?! 0pen it! The forest is a single stone that the beach had threatened into becoming a leaf, if this gets out, i mean if this is leaked the main news corps will never run the story. that is why you are in advanced staged with the white mask of authority, that is why he has invited u to his plantation to see the operation in effect. The very shattered leaf who’s story princess Diana dreamt of living, after just once, at the advice of mute infestation, she refused to swallow her bagel. This is not all of the iron, thus the cage door is unfinished. you really are free to go. But don’t all rush the blood test results at once, you get no points for perceiving ghosts even if they are CIA/Mossad employed. Wait here for the rotten transparency that has you all at one time, a blur confirmed violent, confirmed on the other side of the tiffany advert. Refer to the opposite wall from time to time in the room with one corner, one official white house press reporter. You are this deep in contempt, that is how you must ad/dress the wound.
pull out your yoga mats, I have a new poem.
T minus the end of this Sampha song
In his face they spit their icy scorn,
As at a black flag flying windswept by snow
To make of Him, poor nigger, the god of those in power,
From His rags, relics to embellish altars;
From His gentle song of poverty,
From the trembling lamentation of His Banjo,
The haughty thunder of the organ;
From his arms that hauled the heavy cotton
On the river Jordan,
The arms of those who wield the sword;
From his body, worn like ours from the plantations
Like a glowing coal,
Like a black coal burning in white roses,
The golden necklace of their fortune;
They whitened His black face beneath the spittle
Of their icy scorn,
They spit on Your black face,
Lord, our friend, our comrade;
You who parted on her face long hair that hid the harlot’s tears,
Like a screen of reeds;
They the rich, the Pharisees, the owners of the land, the bankers,
From the bleeding man they made the bleeding god;
Oh, Judas snicker;
Oh, Judas laugh;
Christ, like a torch between two thieves,
At the summit of the world
Lit the slaves’ revolt.
But Christ today is in the house of thieves
And his spread arms in the cathedral spread a vulture shadow,
And in the monastery vaults priests
Count the interest on the thirty pieces
While church bells shower death on hungry multitudes.
We do not pardon them because they know what they do:
They lynched John who organized the union,
They chased him through the wood with dogs like a savage wolf,
Laughing there, they hanged him to the sycamore.
No, brothers, comrades,
We will pray no more.
Our revolt will rise like the stormbird’s cry,
Above the putrid lapping of the swamps.
We’ll no longer sing the sad, despairing spirituals!
Another song will spring forth from our throats
Our red flags we shall unfurl,
Stained by the blood of our upright brothers.
Beneath this sign we shall march,
Beneath this sign we are marching,
Standing tall, the wretched of the earth!
Standing tall, the legions of the hungry!
(Source: , via explore-blog)
Around the koubba, countless graves are scattered in the sand. They form an obligatory passage to the habitations of the living. All Saharan towns begin with cemeteries.
— Isabelle Eberhardt, In the Shadow of Islam
an out-of-control asshole
i could destroy a $200,000 house
with an aluminum chair
and it would be the greatest week of my life