by Langston Hughes
This is for the kids who die, Black and white, For kids will die certainly. The old and rich will live on awhile, As always, Eating blood and gold, Letting kids die.
Kids will die in the swamps of Mississippi Organizing sharecroppers Kids will die in the streets of Chicago Organizing workers Kids will die in the orange groves of California Telling others to get together Whites and Filipinos, Negroes and Mexicans, All kinds of kids will die Who don’t believe in lies, and bribes, and contentment And a lousy peace.
Of course, the wise and the learned Who pen editorials in the papers, And the gentlemen with Dr. in front of their names White and black, Who make surveys and write books Will live on weaving words to smother the kids who die, And the sleazy courts, And the bribe-reaching police, And the blood-loving generals, And the money-loving preachers Will all raise their hands against the kids who die, Beating them with laws and clubs and bayonets and bullets To frighten the people — For the kids who die are like iron in the blood of the people — And the old and rich don’t want the people To taste the iron of the kids who die, Don’t want the people to get wise to their own power, To believe an Angelo Herndon, or even get together
Listen, kids who die — Maybe, now, there will be no monument for you Except in our hearts Maybe your bodies’ll be lost in a swamp Or a prison grave, or the potter’s field, Or the rivers where you’re drowned like Leibknecht But the day will come — You are sure yourselves that it is coming — When the marching feet of the masses Will raise for you a living monument of love, And joy, and laughter, And black hands and white hands clasped as one, And a song that reaches the sky — The song of the life triumphant Through the kids who die.
glad to know people will still be experiencing this video for the first time this daylight savings
Only thing I will add: you do not have to be okay with it. You can continue to be disgusted by what you see in fandom spaces, that is okay. Most people have those things. What is not okay, is being a bully about it. Blocking doesn't mean you hate them, merely that you don't want to see their stuff. Block, filter out, ignore, whatever works. Just - don't be a dick :)
Sometimes I like to stare into the face of death.
It awakens a part of me I'd typically rather stay hidden.
A part of me that wishes I was in it's place,
Rotting away slowly,
Unaware of my body as it withers away,
Becoming one with the earth
as I'm somewhere on the other side.
With or without OCD, this cannot be good for people's mental health. You're not the singular force that makes the world go around, sometimes it's okay to just exist, to just take things at face value. Guilt tripping people, labeling them as bad, most of what that does is put people down, make them doubt themselves and their surroundings, and can cause people to spiral.
tumblr: constantly be aware of your own privilege. constantly be aware of your capacity of be evil. hey i know you really like that new piece of media but make sure you're aware of all of the problematic elements all the time. hey i noticed you reblogged a post from a designated Bad Person so please make sure you do a thorough background check on everyone you reblog from to make sure they're not bad, otherwise people might get the wrong idea about you. always be aware of everything bad that's happening in the world all the time because silence is violence. i see you not reblogging this post btw. activist burnout is a privilege so be aware of that. xyz people are required to reblog this post. if you're not constantly fighting against designated Bad People you are inherently complicit and therefore a Bad Person.
people with ocd:
today i’m fifteen
bruises on my hands
scabs split open
body shot to hell
today i’m angry at the world
and i don’t understand why
the world doesn’t take offense
today i’m burning rubber
in old parts of town i swore never to return
today i can’t seem to get lost
these winding roads are too familiar
and every turn brings me back to fifteen
bruises on my legs
fresh scabs from last night
eyes shot to hell
funny how yesterday i was twenty
adolescence fleeing my skin
tattoos scabbing over
innocence shot to hell
yesterday i locked eyes with you
yesterday i burnt rubber in the parking deck
yesterday i couldn’t get lost fast enough
today i’m fifteen
bruises still fresh
scabs yet to form
five years shot to hell
on my laptop straight up 'writing my wip" and by "my wip", haha, well. lets justr say. scrolling on tumblr.