Eruptions & Disasters
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God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players [i.e. everybody] to being involved in an obscure and complex variant of poker, in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won’t tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.

brazenbitch:

The Black Woman is another badass anthology (written similarly as This Bridge Called My Back) that explores what it means to be a black woman in Amerika by analyzing sexism and racism outside and within our radical communities of color.This anthology features contributions from Alice Walker,Nikki Giovanni,Audre Lorde,Abbey Lincoln,Paule Marshall and others who, through poems and stories, offer a remedy towards healing and self preservation for black women who have had enuf of the rainbow.

“When a white man “likes colored girls,” his woman (the white woman) is the last one he wants to know about it. Yet,seemingly,when a Negro “likes white girls,” his woman (the Black woman) is the first he wants to know about it. White female rejects and social misfits are fragrantly flaunted in our faces as the ultimate in feminine pulchritude. Our women are encouraged by our own men to strive to look and act as much like the white female image of beauty as possible, and only those who approach that “goal” in physical appearance and social behavior are acceptable. At best,we are made to feel we are poor imitations and excuses for white women.

Evil? Evil,you say? The Black woman is hurt,confused,frustrated,angry,resentful,frightened and evil! Who in this hell dares suggest that she should be otherwise? These attitudes only point up her perception of the situation and her health rejection of shame.

Maybe if our women get evil enough and angry enough, they’ll be moved to some action that will bring our men to their senses. There is one unalterable fact that too many of our men cannot seem to face.And that is, we “black,evil,ugly” women are perfect and accurate reflection of you “black,evil,ugly” men. Play hide and seek as long as you can and will,but your every rejection and abandonment of us is only a sorry testament of how thoroughly and carefully you have been blinded and brainwashed. And let it further be understood that when we refer to you we mean,ultimately,us. For you are us,and vice versa.

We are the women who were kidnapped and brought to this continent as slaves. We are the women who were raped,are still being raped, and our bastard children snatched from our breasts to be scattered to the winds to be lynched,castrated,de-egoed,robber,burned,and deceived.

We are the women whose strong and beautiful Black bodies were-and still are- being used as cheap labor force for Miss Anne’s kitchen and Mr.Charlie’s bed, whose rich,black,and warm milk nurtured-and still nurtures-the heir to the racist and evil slavemaster.

We are the women who dwell in the hell-hole ghettos are over the land.We are the women whose bodies are scarified,as living cadavers,to experimental surgery in the white man’s hospitals for the sake of white medicine.

We are the women who are invisible on the television and movies screens, on the Broadway stage. We are the women who are lusted after,sneered at,leered at,hissed at,yelled at,grabbed at,tracked down by white degenerates in our own pitiable,poverty-stricken,and pride-less neighborhoods.

We are the women whose hair is compulsively fried,whose skin is bleached,whose nose is “too big”,whose mouth is “too big and loud,” whose face is “too black and shiny,” and whose suffering and patience is too long and enduring to be believed.

Who’re just too damned much for everybody.

We are the women whose bars and recreation halls are invaded and flagrantly disrespectful,bigoted,simpering,amoral,emotionally unstable,outcast,maladjusted,nymphomaniacal,condescending white women…in desperate and untiring search of the “frothing-at-the-mouth-for-a-white-woman,strong-backed,sixty minute hot black.” Our men.

We are the women who,upon protesting this invasion of our privacy and sanctity and sanity, are called “jealous,” and “evil,” and “small-minded,” and “prejudiced.”

We are the women whose husbands and fathers and brothers and sons have been plagiarized,imitated,denied,and robbed of the fruits of their genius,and who consequently we see emasculated,jailed,lynched,driven mad, deprived,enraged,and made suicidal.

We are the women whom nobody,seemingly,cares about,who are made to feel inadequate,stupid and backward, and who inevitably have the most colossal inferiority complexes to be found.

And who is spreading this propaganda that “The only free people in this country are the white man and the Black woman?” If this be freedom,then Heaven is Hell.

Who will revere the Black Woman? Who will keep our neighborhoods safe for black innocent womanhood? Black womanhood is outraged and humiliated. Black womanhood cries for dignity ans restitution and salvation. Black womanhood wants and needs protection,and keeping,and holding.

Who will assuage her indignation? Who will keep her precious and pure? Who will glorify and proclaim her beautiful image?

To whom will she cry rape?

(Source: senhoritaugly)

And because Love battles by Pablo Neruda

And because love battles
not only in its burning agricultures
but also in the mouth of men and women,
I will finish off by taking the path away
to those who between my chest and your fragrance
want to interpose their obscure plant.

About me, nothing worse
they will tell you, my love,
than what I told you.

I lived in the prairies
before I got to know you
and I did not wait love but I was
laying in wait for and I jumped on the rose.

What more can they tell you?
I am neither good nor bad but a man,
and they will then associate the danger
of my life, which you know
and which with your passion you shared.

And good, this danger
is danger of love, of complete love
for all life,
for all lives,
and if this love brings us
the death and the prisons,
I am sure that your big eyes,
as when I kiss them,
will then close with pride,
into double pride, love,
with your pride and my pride.

But to my ears they will come before
to wear down the tour
of the sweet and hard love which binds us,
and they will say: “The one
you love,
is not a woman for you,
Why do you love her? I think
you could find one more beautiful,
more serious, more deep,
more other, you understand me, look how she’s light,
and what a head she has,
and look at how she dresses,
and etcetera and etcetera”.

And I in these lines say:
Like this I want you, love,
love, Like this I love you,
as you dress
and how your hair lifts up
and how your mouth smiles,
light as the water
of the spring upon the pure stones,
Like this I love you, beloved.

To bread I do not ask to teach me
but only not to lack during every day of life.
I don’t know anything about light, from where
it comes nor where it goes,
I only want the light to light up,
I do not ask to the night
explanations,
I wait for it and it envelops me,
And so you, bread and light
And shadow are.

You came to my life
with what you were bringing,
made
of light and bread and shadow I expected you,
and Like this I need you,
Like this I love you,
and to those who want to hear tomorrow
that which I will not tell them, let them read it here,
and let them back off today because it is early
for these arguments.

Tomorrow we will only give them
a leaf of the tree of our love, a leaf
which will fall on the earth
like if it had been made by our lips
like a kiss which falls
from our invincible heights
to show the fire and the tenderness
of a true love. 


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