Posted 5 hours ago




Congratulations to Chicago’s Urban Prep Academy they are celebrating yet another year of extraordinary success.For the fifth year in a row, all 240 seniors at the all-African-American-male high school have earned acceptance letters into a four-year college or university!!!!!

On Tuesday, the Class of 2014 celebrated their  momentous occasion during a traditional ceremony where they exchanged their red uniform ties for a red-and-gold striped tie - a tradition done in observance of their achievement. 

“The tie represents to me moving on from a boy to becoming a young man and actually doing something with my life,” graduating senior Dumar Harris told NBC Chicago. The mayor of Chicago Rahm Emanuel attended the ceremony Tuesday to give the students a few encouraging words. Dwayne Wade has also donated $10,000 through his foundation, Wade’s World.

Yearly Chicago events I can’t wait for.

Posted 5 hours ago

We had a writing workshop today. On top of a mountain. What?

Posted 1 day ago

Too much “perform,” not enough “be.”

Posted 1 day ago
All the hardest, coldest people you meet,
were once as soft as water.
And that’s the tragedy of living.
Iain S. Thomas (via poetisch)

(Source: theonlymagicleftisart)

Posted 1 day ago



This sign seems harmless enough. But it’s part of a scheme by an anti-choice crisis pregnancy center (CPC) to trick women seeking abortion services. Crisis pregnancy centers (CPCs) pose as legitimate reproductive health centers. They have a track record of outright lying to women and work to dissuade people from exercising the right to choose.

Here’s what happening: this particular CPC sits right next to a legitimate abortion clinic (called EMW). That’s one way they cause confusion. Check out the “parking permit” gimmick. That’s how the CPC is luring women to the parking lot and getting them to come inside for a parking permit. Once a woman goes into a CPC, an anti-choice volunteer may try to get the woman to miss her appointment or use shame or scare tactics to pressure the woman not to access abortion.

So wrong.

I have said it before and I will say it again: if you have to resort to deceit to fight for your cause, your cause is not worth fighting for.

Posted 1 day ago


The Faux News guide to what’s dangerous.

Posted 2 days ago

What I Want

My morality is the core of planet Me,
The entirety of my being is centered
By the pull of what I believe is just.
I have no logic, no formula,
I only know that justice is my gravity.
My soul begs for the transcendence
Of my actions towards other people.

Man, I’m trying too hard, trying to be pretty.

I am eternally fucked.
The pursuit of wanting to ensure happiness
To all fellow people often leads to decisions
That I am unhappy with. Basically,
If you’re unhappy, I want to help you;
The way I help may make me unhappy,
So I’ll want to make myself happy
But while I do that you may no longer
Be able to hold onto your happiness.
I am eternally fucked.

That’s not quite it either. Let me try again.

I want to be a doctor that specializes in fractures.
I want to mend broken bones, broken history.
I’ll diagnose every privilege and every fear
Until victims are no longer targets
In the street or after their death.
I’m aiming for a degree in Make-the-world-better-ology,
That’s doctorate level studies. Even many geniuses
Only taught humanity how to blow shit up better.
The only thing I want to blow up is injustice.

I want to be that secondary character in anime-type person;
The one that always knows the exact right deep thing to say
To make the main character consider life in a new way.
It will be 10 words for every soul crippled by resentment
Or 7 words for every person stuck in the past, stuck in hatred.
The world is full of cycles; the only one I don’t want to break
Is the one the Earth takes around the sun, at least not yet.

Yes, my dream is to be an anime character with a gravitational core of flowers and butterflies
Who earns his doctorate, after eliminating student debt, and proclaims to the world:
Each heartbeat is a chapter, each person a story, listen to every work of art you can.
Yeah, that sounds nice. Maybe that will help people find their happy. That will help me.

Posted 2 days ago
This is what you shall do: love the earth and sun, and animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence towards the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown, or to any man or number of men; go freely with the powerful uneducated persons, and with the young, and mothers, of families: read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life: re-examine all you have been told at school or church, or in any books, and dismiss whatever insults your soul.
Walt Whitman (via purplebuddhaproject)
Posted 2 days ago


"I was a school teacher for all my life, but I had to leave when I went blind. It was tough for me because I’d helped so many other people’s kids, and then when my own kids got to high school, I couldn’t see enough to help them with their homework. But everything turned out all right though. This one’s on the way to join her sister at the University of Albany!"

Posted 2 days ago

The Poem I Can Never Write

I want to pen the “Great American Poem”
But I don’t believe I am capable of such.

There is no moment of realization for greatness
in America, as a white man,every moment is great.

America is less melting pot and more Absinthe,
Inserting cultures just turns the whole a cloudy white;
America has no need of other identities, just their labor.

And work people, we will; first, against your will
Until we convince you that freedom
Is the right to work yourself to the bone.

There was nothing great about whipping humans
Or hanging laborers because of a pale superiority complex.
There is no poetry in vile hatred, no verse
In causing pain intentionally to those we know feel it.
For this, there can be no great American poem until 1865.

But the abolition of slavery never ended suffering.
America built society and wealth on black bodies
But never rewarded them. Similarly,
Railways spawned out of the backs of Chinese immigrants;
The reward for their service was less pay, no perks,
And taxes only one foreign workers. There is no honor
In conceding worth in someone’s output but not their person.
There is no poetry in bigotry or thanklessness.
There is no great American poem until penance.

The chance for redemption began in conflict.
Belatedly taking part in two world wars,
Americans helped win what were righteous causes.
Only, to us, they weren’t righteous until we were involved.
Originally, we wanted to let Europe burn, too.
Until it threatened our interests.
Humans have never been our interests.

However, when the United States finally offered lives
Instead of taking them, our uniformed men fought valiantly.
American spirit finally found its purpose, ironically, in Europe.
In World War II we also finally found a government even we
Could feel was vile in their discrimination.
At least we let a lot of foreign laborers live, we’ll say.
The second war would have allowed the great American poem
But afterwards the country still wallowed in discrimination,
Sacrificing together did not earn the same equality as death brought.
There is no poetry in hypocrisy. There is never poetry in invasion.
There would be no opportunity for greatness until the 1960’s.

When citizens were thirsty for equality, we gave them water hoses.
America offers force where we should show compassion.
When the U.S. finally declared a belief in “us” being everyone,
It had been after over 200 years of enslavement, tactical
Separation, humiliation, and destruction by authority.
Political parties split - old dixiecrats so sickened
By having rights become civil became new Republicans.
Voters elected politicians using their plantations instead of their hearts.
Armed national guardsmen had to aim their guns at countrymen
Because Alabama couldn’t stand one black girl getting an education.
The ‘60’s offered progress but certainly not the great American poem.

America has always loved the taste of the word justice
But when it comes to pronouncing it in our laws
We have always swallowed the truth; someday
the world will not find us worth saving when we choke.
America, this quivering braggart, continues its offerings
To it’s Gods of Capitalism and Covert Intervention.
If you question why we may be left to our demise
You may ask the children of Africa we sterilized,
You may ask the populace of Central America we infected
With syphilis, the East Asians we interred or worked to death,
The South Americans who were ruled by despots we put in place.
You may ask the countries of oil in the middle east,
Whose firepower cannot reach across oceans about the cost of foreign invasion.
Ask Cubans about the Twitter-like website meant to spur disillusion
In their government. Ask detainees at black sites, at Guantanamo
About their Constitutional right to a trial. All you will get
Is silence. It is not the responsibility of victims to help their attackers understand.

I cannot write the Great American poem because this White America
Has never achieved true greatness, only the swelled pride of those afraid of the dark.
What I can do is try to write the America worth praising into existence.
I can lead America into its great poet. When a poet born into a small percentage
Of representation is allowed a voice as large as the majority,
When a minority poet believes equal opportunity, treatment, and liberty exist
That person can write the Great American Poem.

Posted 2 days ago






#can we please discuss the fact that this movie was made by Americans

#some of us might actually be self-aware

Nobody has to deal with americans more than other americans.

I am an american and I can verify that this is indeed true.

#everyone else gets to be annoyed by Americans from afar #while Americans have to be annoyed by other Americans loudly and up close

(Source: kisedbyfire)

Posted 2 days ago
Posted 2 days ago


This Is Big: Scientists Just Found Earth’s First-Cousin

Right now, 500 light years away from Earth, there’s a planet that looks a lot like our own. It is bathed in dim orangeish light, which at high noon is only as bright as the golden hour before sunset back home. 

NASA scientists are calling the planet Kepler-186f, and it’s unlike anything they’ve found. The big news: Kepler-186f is the closest relative to the Earth that researchers have discovered. 

It’s the first Earth-sized planet in the habitable zone of another star—the sweet spot between too-hot Mercury-like planets and too-cold Neptunes— and it is likely to give scientists their first real opportunity to seek life elsewhere in the universe. “It’s no longer in the realm of science fiction,” said Elisa Quintana, a researcher at the SETI Institute. 

But if there is indeed life on Kepler-186f, it may not look like what we have here. Given the redder wavelengths of light on the planet, vegetation there would sprout in hues of yellow and orange instead of green.

Read more. [Image: NASA Ames/SETI Institute/JPL-Caltech]

Posted 2 days ago


[Image description: Helen Keller sits by a radio, with her hand over it, in order to feel the vibrations of the music playing]

Helen Keller wrote the following letter to the New York Symphony Orchestra in 1924, describing listening to the “Ninth Symphony” composed by Beethoven - who was also deaf - over the radio: 

“Dear Friends:

I have the joy of being able to tell you that, though deaf and blind, I spent a glorious hour last night listening over the radio to Beethoven’s “Ninth Symphony.” I do not mean to say that I “heard” the music in the sense that other people heard it; and I do not know whether I can make you understand how it was possible for me to derive pleasure from the symphony. It was a great surprise to myself. I had been reading in my magazine for the blind of the happiness that the radio was bringing to the sightless everywhere. I was delighted to know that the blind had gained a new source of enjoyment; but I did not dream that I could have any part in their joy. Last night, when the family was listening to your wonderful rendering of the immortal symphony someone suggested that I put my hand on the receiver and see if I could get any of the vibrations. He unscrewed the cap, and I lightly touched the sensitive diaphragm. What was my amazement to discover that I could feel, not only the vibration, but also the impassioned rhythm, the throb and the urge of the music! The intertwined and intermingling vibrations from different instruments enchanted me. I could actually distinguish the cornets, the roil of the drums, deep-toned violas and violins singing in exquisite unison. How the lovely speech of the violins flowed and plowed over the deepest tones of the other instruments! When the human voices leaped up thrilling from the surge of harmony, I recognized them instantly as voices more ecstatic, upcurving swift and flame-like, until my heart almost stood still. The women’s voices seemed an embodiment of all the angelic voices rushing in a harmonious flood of beautiful and inspiring sound. The great chorus throbbed against my fingers with poignant pause and flow. Then all the instruments and voices together burst forth – an ocean of heavenly vibration – and died away like winds when the atom is spent, ending in a delicate shower of sweet notes.

Of course this was not “hearing,” but I do know that the tones and harmonies conveyed to me moods of great beauty and majesty. I also sense, or thought I did, the tender sounds of nature that sing into my hand-swaying reeds and winds and the murmur of streams. I have never been so enraptured before by a multitude of tone-vibrations.

As I listened, with darkness and melody, shadow and sound filling all the room, I could not help remembering that the great composer who poured forth such a flood of sweetness into the world was deaf like myself. I marveled at the power of his quenchless spirit by which out of his pain he wrought such joy for others – and there I sat, feeling with my hand the magnificent symphony which broke like a sea upon the silent shores of his soul and mine.” 


Posted 2 days ago



This is a painting I did for my little cousin who will soon be going through a bone marrow transplant. I hope that every time she looks at it she will feel brave and strong.”

Qavah the Brave by ~Wes-Talbott


Contemporary Art Week!