... the other Black experience
For those who create through the written word from poetry to fictional writings! Come and share your talent!
Latest Activity: May 20
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Hey Y'all! I just joined Afropunk and I'm trying to get my social on.
I'm a recent Columbia University grad and do freelance writing for a few publications. Check out my article on Blacktinas and let me know what you think: http://www.forharriet.com/2014/12/i-am-blacktina-reflections-on-bei... Peace!
Hey folks, my blog is about growing up black, being the rare native Brooklynite (a unicorn!), and the changing landscape of NY life. If you have an essay that fits the blog's theme, I'm open to "hosting" other writers/bloggers. Currently my audience is at about 1000.
Can You Help Me? I'm Lost
For those who are interested in new authentic music. Attached below is a link to the debut music video Planet X by Jay Stones. It creates a great journey through sound and harmony. So check it out and share your thoughts on it! peace
Yinka & the ID radio show (London) - Richie Havens, Divinyls, DMX and Public Enemy
Yinka & the ID show = Samuel L Jackson meets Charlie Brooker
#richiehavens #chrissyamphlett #dmx #publicenemy
If you are a spoken word/poet/artists and would like to share your work at an open mic email email@example.com
any fiction that I manage to post goes here: demacrux.dreamwidth.org
Every time ISee you naked II offer my deathbed butYou won't take it.Strange: My flower bed cannot hold you.Strange: My flower bed cannot hold you. In my prime I I tried to burn away my Winter weeds but I I breed and then I decayStrange: My flower bed cannot hold you.Strange: My flower bed cannot hold you. Strange. Some ghostly deed Consumed my fangs And all my lilies turn to seedStrange: My flower bed cannot hold you.Strange: My flower bed cannot hold you.
This poem was inspired by my friend who has had two important people in her life who have passed away:
"Turn, Turn, Turn"
Death visits us all But for some it comes Sooner, lurking at corners For the moment to jump into The continuous turn Of the revolving door Pushed forward by its Invisible force, we are unable To push back, only to Look through the clear glassAt years now behind.
Death – A catalytic constant Whirling around In a swirling cup of time Tearing apart compounded Memories and the only Reaction is to find a way to Let go after being consumed With grief and altered into Another phase where life That once mattered is Physically gone.
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