Did you know that there's such a thing as a controlled burn? Yep. Here's what controlled burning is: "Controlled burning is any fire intentionally ignited to meet specific land management objectives, such as to... restore ecosystem health" (USDA). And do you know what tends to happen? The earth naturally needs to burn sometimes. And humans often stop that burning if it occurs near them! So then what do you have? A bunch of super-dry-about-to-burn grass. This happens over and over again and you end up with a large amount of land that is dry and burnable, so when lightning strikes or somebody throws a smoking cigarette out of their car window and into a field, that dry field can catch fire. Of course, there are other things to consider that I've left out like climate change and the way humans are affecting ecosystems everywhere and the complete crap thats going on, but honestly I'm tired of watching things burn. So I will let it be.
I've seen the hands of time. Wisend gnarled old fingers, long and slender, in shades of murky grey. The hands grope around the edges of my nightmares, prod the clay of my subconscious, shatter the frames of my memory. The hands of time hold, held, will hold, my brain in its palm. I've become it's plaything. Days blend into nights, seconds turn to hours in the blink of an eon. The hangs do not know why they hold me, that much I can tell. Perhaps they were lonley, stuck in the maze of space all alone. Maybe they're malicious, peeling back the scabs of old wounds ever so tenderly, and pouring centuries of contemplation into foaming brine. I will not know until they release me, whenever that is. For now I'm stuck, staring at the hands of time.
Why are you doing this to me? I’m riding an emotional rollercoaster With you at the controls
At first I pardoned your offense Creating excuses To ease the pain I just can’t imagine You hurting me on purpose
After a week and a half you suddenly started texting again Acting as if nothing has happened I play along not wanting to pick At the fresh scab laid apon our friendship
A month later you ghost me, again For not one Not two But three weeks! My plentiful messages left read With no reply Finally I got up the gall to confront the worries whirling inside Asking in sencerity if I angered you in some way Your reply sounds feasible Family trouble A loved one gone Nothing personal Plumes of guilt invade my conscious How could I jump to worse case scenario
I try not to have any regrets but yet I find myself sometimes in debt to the man in the corner with his scraping beard and jagged silhouette
he's the one I would have feared inside his web of crawling threads a single cigarette draping from his lips of lead
a stream of smoke that slowly ebbs inside my mind offset from the kind of things that normally would have appeared a speeding train threatening to upset the notion that we are intertwined
a minuet to which we are blind an orchestral chant a rant for those who bled instead of breathing for those who fought instead of dreaming
because once you wait your turn in line until your empty fate's assigned time will burn in fiery red a soulless threat we may not have volunteered for this but why are we still inclined to find what words will stay
To help our planet all you truly need is a fresh mindset. In the past few months I've grown from someone who simply enjoys nature, to someone who deeply appreciates its value. I then wanted to find ways to give back to this lovely earth whom we've broken so much. However, focusing on the negative is part of the problem. Yes our ecosystems are dying, but you know that, what needs to become more known is hope. The hope that you and others can change your ways and open your mind. You can save the planet. The sooner you realize it, the more empowering it is.
I started small, by shopping at thrift stores more often. Not only is thrifting the most eco friendly way to shop, but it is a lot more fun. So after I started thrift shopping I stopped buying from big retail stores. I even brought out my old sewing machine and patterns and made myself a few shirts.
Note: I'm writing this the way I speak, so I apologize for any grammatical errors.
Before I was out, things were simpler, to say the least. The questions were less, "ooo, who do you like, spill!" And more like, "oo, what are you going to have for dinner, DANG IT, you spilled the tea! Go clean that up!" Or rather, that was before any of us were thinking about being out and more about what we were going to find in our lunchboxes (let me tell you, I often found the strangest things—orange peel, dog food, even the odd piece of string that my cat had clearly ruined).
No, I don't practice voodoo. No, I don't wear a pointy black hat. No, I don't curse anyone, I only bless. No I'm not evil. No, I'm not Goth or hippie, don't categorize me. No, I can't fly on a broomstick, no one can. No, I don't worship Satan, I worship life and creation. No, I don't sacrifice animals, I just told you I worship life. No, I'm not in a cult. No, I can't make things float. No, the pentacle and pentagram are NOT signs of Satan.
Witches aren't the same as gypsies, men can be witches too, witches do NOT summon demons, witchcraft is not the same as paganism and/or Wicca, witches don't possess people OR levitate. witches are human, witches can dress in whatever they want, not just black, witchcraft IS a religious practice, Wicca, paganism and witchcraft are all different than satanism.
I absolutely detest the idea of prom king and queen. As a high school student, I can say that, unfortunately, popularity and self-consciousness still eat away at people just like in middle school. So who’s bright idea was it to pit clearly vulnerable people against each other to their own destruction? Prom, short for promenade, originated in the 19th century, from banquets of which each university’s graduating class would celebrate. As harmless as this sounds, the 1894 Smith College gathering to “dine and dance” has somehow grown into something vile, with the ability to wreak havoc on the joy of prom. On a night where teens should be celebrating their high school experience and having a good time, instead the result of a popular vote and conventional beauty is applauded-and crowned-on stage.
I live in a place where most of the year the ground is soft, where the edges are blurred by a multitude of greens. When I was a child, even the summers were mild and wet. But in recent years, the heat has lasted longer and burned harder. Now when I run barefoot through the park, dust coats my toes and the grass crunches under my feet. I hold my breath till the rain comes, waiting for the unrelenting cascade of grotesquely perfect days to end. The dryness is made all the more palpable by the absurd irony of longing for what in the past was dreaded: winter. I miss the cozy clouds. The endless blue of the sky feels oppressive in its openness. Every morning I look up, hoping for some sort of change, some sort of relief. I am terrified the rain will never come again. Dust is a poor substitute for mud.
I haven't felt like myself since school abruptly ended. I don't talk to my friends much. I barely go outside unless it's to walk to dogs or check the mail. I've had to take more responsibility than what I was used to. My sister moved out. She helped everthing go by faster. Since she left, I've had to be the responsible older sister. I have to clean the kitchen, living room, bathroom, do laundry, help clean my moms room, watch my brother, take care of the dogs, feed my brother, feed the animals, make dinner, clean up after everyone, then somehow find time to clean my room. I have no time to myself. Did I mention that my brother absolutely LOVES making messes? So I have to clean one mess after another.
Open Your Eyes! If You say there is no issue with what Humanity has done Open. Your. Eyes. there is a problem and just cause YOU don't see it or think it's not. People are dying! We as a society can't let people walk on the streets without being stared at What the #*%$ I wish we could just be in peace all around planet earth for 1 SECOND no... that's not how it works Children are the future but they won't listen Even when we scream we are pushed aside im tired of being told it can't work one way because people won't MAKE it work there is a different in I can't and I won't
Open Your Eyes people who are as different as you are just as beautiful, Powerful, Amazing
I’m tired of asking the world that. I’m tired of watching people I care about make stupid decisions. I’m tired of hoping that things will get better. Most of all, I’m tired of watching my country fail. And we are failing. The work that some people have put in to stay home, stay safe, wear a mask, wipe things down, and be respectful of others has turned out completely irrelevent. We try hard to set an example for you, and yet you disregard us. For all that we’ve done, we do not exist because unfortunetly it hasn’t changed things. I was hopeful at one point, I think, but that was when people weren’t dying by the thousands. Now I’m just angry.
you rip the world apart not that it isn't already in shreds your just adding to the pile making each piece smaller and smaller you throw bleach over our art when we paint Black Lives Matter on the street you comment under our empowering Instagram posts you throw cans at my grandparents for being in a biracial relationship you shout all lives matter but refuse to admit that black lives are the ones under fire you take out guns whenever 'you people' act too white you stare at the brown skin girl's curls like she has two heads you call us libtards for seeing through your double standards and generalization you see Charlie Davis, my own flesh and blood, my mothers father, one of my best friends but you don't really see him all but his brown skin, his afro, his voice you decide to shoot his dog. you know if you had pointed the gun at him instead, the punishment would still be nothing
Everyone fawns over us when we get big. After you've struggled your way to the top, only then are you visible. After you put in the hours, cried a hundred nights, failed again and again, then someone has the audacity to say "wow, you're really special." They claim to love you, but they only love the idea of you. They think they know you, but they only know what you put on display. Love yourself first, because nobody else knows the blood, sweat, and tears you've endured. They don't even know the half of it.
I would say, "Don't waste your vote this fall," but not everyone who reads this will have the privilege of voting on November 3rd, 2020. Please, do not waste your VOICE this fall.
I have no way of knowing what kind of beliefs you've grown up with. What kind of religious practices, parental decisions, or extended family situations have impacted your morals. And to be perfectly honest (and a wee bit blunt) I really don't care at this moment in time. I don't care if your parents grew up as ultra conservatives, mega liberals or anywhere on the increasingly broad spectrum that lies in between.
I do care that you have conversations with people of all different backgrounds, political orientations, and groups that are opposed to your beliefs. I care that, if you feel internal conflict or confusion based upon the voices of influence in your life, you engage with people who can educate you.
Black Lives Matter you say write it in your bio post it on your stories Black Lives Matter you say until you want to touch my mom's hair Black Lives Matter until you compare the only black man you know to every any black person you see Black Lives Matter until you want yours to matter too Black Lives Matter until being black is an exotic and foreign thing to you Black Lives Matter until in history class, you single out the one black boy in your head Black Lives Matter until the protesters should be a little more peaceful until all cops aren't bad Black lives matter until the ghetto is filled with 'dangerous kinds of people' Black Lives Matter until you defend your racist parents Black Lives Matter until you underestimate systemic racism until you 'didn't choose to be white' Black Lives Matter until you 'don't see color' yet color is all you see
keep fighting. the problem cannot be solved without you. inorder to end injustice, we need to unite. we need to bring all of our communities together. we will be stronger if we support each other. if we all rise to the occasion TOGETHER we can rid the earth of racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, and discriminations of all kinds.
to each person individually, if YOU decide to change the world, do it. there will be others who are simultaneously working towards making the world a better place. you are not alone.
tldr; join hand in hand and annihalate discrimination of all kinds
i was asked by a volunteer group what pride means to me:
to me, pride is a collage--a work of art. It's a beautiful and colorful celebration and culture to be seen and experienced.
with every work of art comes a story. the story of pride is not jsut filled with joy and filled with pain and hardship and struggle. it's a long-term community coming together over time, joining hand-in-hand to show the world that they are content with who they are, and they are PROUD. with pride comes the story of the struggle and the celebration of what has come from it all. a beautiful masterpiece which commemorates those who were both lost and found. a triumph that creates a community dear to our hearts.
tldr; pride is a work of art which reminds us to love, respect, and care for who we are.
i dont know what to do anymore. im tired of being lonely and i wish i could just bash my head into the wall until i cant feel anything anymore. sometimes i curl my hands into fists until my fingernails dig into my palms, because i feel like i cant do anything i cant fix the sickness in my grandmother's body, i cant solve the puzzle of the girl i love, im not even able to cry anymore. things just feel dull, empty, blank. i dont even know what i want, i just want to stop feeling so alone and despreate and sad. maybe i should stop listening to sad music, but it makes me feel like somebody understands. sometimes i wonder if im addicted somehow, in some twisted sick way, to this feeling of emotional suffering. i lie of course, when people ask me how i am, i smile and make myself live in a mask, a porcilain vase around my head, sculpted from my fear, fear of people knowing that. . . im not ok. that im sad underneath the happy smiles and determined attidute.