The Three Degrees
by the length of her skirt,
by the way she walks,
talks, looks, and acts;
by the color of her skin you judge
and will call her “bitch!”
if she doesn’t answer your:
“Hey baby, whatcha gonna say
to a man.”
You judge a woman
by the job she holds,
by the number of children she’s had,
by the number of digits on her check;
by the many men she may have lain with
and wonder what jive murphy
you’ll run on her this time.
You tell a woman
every poetic love line
you can think of,
then like the desperate needle
of a strung out junkie
you plunge into her veins,
travel wild through her blood,
confuse her mind, make her hate
and be cold to the men to come,
destroying the thread of calm
You judge a woman
by what she can do for you alone
but there’s no need
for slaves to have slaves.
You judge a woman
by impressions you think you’ve made.
Ask and she gives,
take without asking,
beat on her and she’ll obey,
throw her name up and down the streets
like some loose whistle —
knowing her neighbors will talk.
Her friends will chew her name.
Her family’s blood will run loose
like a broken creek.
And when you’re gone,
a woman is left
healing her wounds alone.
But we so called men,
we so called brothers
wonder why it’s so hard
to love our women
when we’re about loving them
the way america
Ziman, a South African street artist who now resides in Venice Beach, California, attacks Africa’s dominant gun culture with piercing colors and images that don’t fade from memory. With knitted masks and beaded weapons, Ziman paints Africa’s obsession with guns and the power they provide as so bizarre and overwhelming it’s nearly surreal. Both worshipped and feared, Ziman’s guns appear like dangerous totems from an unknown ritual, somewhat removed from the gun culture we’ve heard so much about. The vendors who star in Ziman’s photos were not at all directed in how to pose with the weapon replicas. Yet the viewer can sense the additional status pulsing through the subjects as they hold their powerful instruments, even if only for the duration of a photograph.
Women who need a movie episode 5,000,001:
Nzinga Mbande was a 17th-century African battle queen who successfully led spear-wielding tribal warriors into hardcore fucking close-quarters combat with rifle-equipped colonial European armies. Carrying a bow, sword, and axe, and dressed in animal skins, Nzinga Mbande led her men into combat against the Portuguese, defeating them in pitched battles in 1645, 1647, and 1648, at one point even helping a Dutch Marines force re-take her old palace from the Portuguese Governor
She was also infamous for having a harem of 60 men at her beck and call, a personal bodyguard of elite Dutch mercenary riflemen, and once took a machete into hand-to-hand combat against a tribe of (literally) baby-eating African cannibals.
” Remember in the days before digital music and MP3 players? If you do, then you probably made compilations of all your favourite music, to share with your friends and loved ones, on good old fashioned blank cassette tapes. If you miss making mix tapes this product will inspire you again! “
This is the shit in ten thousand WAYS.
What the hell?!! I need this!!
Big or small, real or fake afro just look good on us but that’s just my opinion. Anyone agree with me? Have ever rocked the fro?
President Obama saves Mrs. Obama from having a wardrobe malfunction. A true gentleman.
Awwww. That’s love bitches!!
* swoons *
So…we’re just going to pretend he isn’t also grabbing her ass?
he’s helping out and giving a little butt touch.
You are not going in circles
You are making progress in a spiral. You do come back around to where you were at the start, since recovery and healing take time, but every time you come back around to that point you’re a little higher up because you’ve got more experience, more knowledge, and more strength.
You ARE making progress
I really needed to read this!!