Tuesday February 02, 2010 at 8:59

kristenbobisten:

I feel for you, I really do.Nothing adds up like you want it to.No words can mend this fix I’m in.Give me your worst I won’t even blink,right between the eyes I won’t feel a thing.

kristenbobisten:

I feel for you, I really do.
Nothing adds up like you want it to.
No words can mend this fix I’m in.
Give me your worst I won’t even blink,
right between the eyes I won’t feel a thing.

This post was reblogged from my legs barely hold all my heart and soul.

Monday February 01, 2010 at 20:14

An Evening Thought

Jupiter Hammon’s ” An Evening Thought ” was the first work by an African-American to be published in the United States. The text below is taken from Benjamin Brawley’s Early Black American Writers.

An Evening Thought: Salvation by Christ, With Penitential Cries

Salvation comes by Christ alone,
The only Son of God;
Redemption now to every one,
That love his holy Word.

Dear Jesus, we would fly to Thee,
And leave off every Sin,
Thy tender Mercy well agree;
Salvation from our King;

Salvation comes now from the Lord,
Our victorious King.
His holy Name be well ador’ed,
Salvation surely bring.

Dear Jesus, give thy Spirit now,
Thy Grace to every Nation,
That han’t the Lord to whom we bow,
The Author of Salvation.

Dear Jesus, unto Thee we cry,
Give us the Preparation;
Turn not away thy tender Eye;
We seek thy true Salvation.

Salvation comes from God we know,
The true and only One;
It’s well agreed and certain true,
He gave his only Son.

Lord, hear our penitential Cry:
Salvation from above;
It is the Lord that doth supply,
With his Redeeming Love.

Dear Jesus, by thy precious Blood,
The World Redemption have:
Salvation now comes from the Lord,
He being thy captive slave.

Dear Jesus, let the Nations cry,
And all the People say,
Salvation comes from Christ on high,
Haste on Tribunal Day.

We cry as Sinners to the Lord,
Salvation to obtain;
It is firmly fixt his holy Word,
Ye shall not cry in vain.

Dear Jesus, unto Thee we cry,
And make our Lamentation;
O let our Prayers ascend on high;
We felt thy Salvation.

Lord, turn our dark benighted Souls;
Give us a true Motion,
And let the Hearts of all the World,
Make Christ their Salvation.

Ten Thousand Angels cry to Thee,
Yea, louder than the Ocean.
Thou art the Lord, we plainly see;
Thou art the true Salvation.

Now is the Day, excepted Time;
The Day of Salvation;
Increase your Faith, do not repine:
Awake ye, every Nation.

Lord, unto whom now shall we go,
Or seek a safe Abode ?
Thou hast the Word Salvation Too,
The only Son of God.

Ho ! every one that hunger hath,
Or pineth after me,
Salvation be thy leading Staff,
To set the Sinner free.

Dear Jesus, unto Thee we fly;
Depart, depart from Sin,
Salvation doth at length supply,
The Glory of our King.

Come, ye Blessed of the Lord,
Salvation greatly given;
O turn your Hearts, accept the Word,
Your Souls are fit for Heaven.

Dear Jesus, we now turn to Thee,
Salvation to obtain;
Our hearts and souls do meet again,
To magnify thy Name.

Come holy Spirit, Heavenly Dove,
The Object of our Care;
Salvation doth increase our Love;
Our hearts hath felt thy fear.

Now Glory be to God on High,
Salvation high and low;
And thus the Soul on Christ rely,
To heaven surely go.

Come, Blessed Jesus, Heavenly Dove,
Accept repentance here;
Salvation give, with tender Love;
Let us with Angels share. Finis.

http://www.accd.edu/sac/English/bailey/jhammon.htm

Monday February 01, 2010 at 12:14

This post was reblogged from Just be spLendid....

Monday February 01, 2010 at 9:01

We suck young blood

I want to bite the skin off of your arms
and feel those cells collide,
cold and sharp like ice,
across my tongue.
I want to make you angry
tangent with the moonlight
and I want to bruise you so you’ll feel me with you.
There’s something intoxicating about being right.
There’s something cruel and sleek about the way we do things around here.

This mishap fits
clink, chip, click,
just like machine parts.
It runs like clockwork.
It stings like motor oil.

The moon peers quietly through the blinds
and drops delicate spots of saccharine light on your naked back.
It would be a pleasure to kiss you,
tongue in cheek,
blood in mouth.
It would be a delight to drag you down.

http://aprettywar.tumblr.com/

Wednesday January 27, 2010 at 9:01

Broken Social Scene Birthed a Stillborn

The stars look just like the son

I yearn to hold, a silver outline

my finger has trouble tracing at dusk.

Late at night, the clouds muffle his babbles

and the sky stretches over him

like an ashen sheet that smells of balm and sulfur.

If I steady my hand, I can count each glinting toe,

watch his kicks shifting Orion out of place,

hear his paused sighs in the wind

as he nurses off the moon’s porcelain teat

but my hand only trembles,

my finger pointing to the earth.

by Sue May

http://seesuestitch.tumblr.com/

Tuesday January 26, 2010 at 18:13

winter

There’s wolves in the woods and blood on the streets,

there are apples hanging fat on the branch and

your grandfather’s rifle in the closet and

me on my knees in the snow,

sinking my fingernails into your flesh.

http://jessieflux.tumblr.com/

Tuesday January 26, 2010 at 15:12

This post was reblogged from take my hand.

Tuesday January 26, 2010 at 12:09

deepastheoceann:

fuckyeahtattoos:the sad truth…

deepastheoceann:

fuckyeahtattoos:the sad truth…

This post was reblogged from take my hand.

Tuesday January 26, 2010 at 9:07

This post was reblogged from Bear.

Sunday January 17, 2010 at 9:01

Burning

When I was fifteen I went through a very short and intense phase where I tried to be more spiritual. This phase was during Summer and mostly consisted of interior decorating. I begged my parents to buy me meters of gauze so I could hang it from my ceiling. I made paper cranes and sat them in the dips of fabric, hung small lanterns around my room and played sitar music. It was certainly atmospheric, and that part of my phase never ended. My room looked like that until I moved out. When I finally packed up the gauze the paper cranes, I noticed, had never gotten older. Almost like time capsules.

After my room had been ‘spiritualized’ I spent long stretches of night listening to a sitar being plucked and burning incense. I would lay very still on my back in darkness, staring up at the gauze and tiny lanterns and try to stop thinking entirely. I never got to that goal, but it definitely relaxed me.

A friend came to my house once and we went straight to my room. She was an avid photographer at the time and was terribly happy that she had bought her camera with her. She asked me to burn some incense and lay on my back so she could photograph me in my room, and I obliged.

Strangely enough, when I wasn’t alone, it was very easy that time for me to drift away. I heard her shutter clicking incessantly but it was more like background noise, as if I was miles away. I forgot she was in the room for a moment until she leaned over me and took a tight portrait of my dazed face that was mingling with smoke.

“I’m excited!” she said happily “These photographs will be good,”
I didn’t say anything. She lay down next to me and we sat in content silence for a while. I watched her rest her camera on her stomach and touch it gently like it was a baby. Light played on our feet through the shutters. At the time I mused about how I could feel so peaceful when I wasn’t alone, but it was such a stretch for me to do it by myself.

She showed me the photos about a week later. Like she said, they were good. It was the incense- it practically worked like a fog machine.

I still have one shot from the roll. It was taken so that only my arm from the elbow is visible, hanging over the bed. On the ceiling you can see a lantern, and incense smoke is curling upwards. It was taken when I was deep in my own thoughts, mentally alone. My arm has no energy or direction to it. It looks like I spontaneously died while in bed. On the back, written years ago, is the quickly scrawled date and title on the photograph. It is titled Lily deep in thought (elbow).

http://turntowards.tumblr.com/

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