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Venom of the Days that have Fallen

their high school principal
told me I couldn’t teach
poetry with profanity
so I asked my students,
“Raise your hand if you’ve heard of the Holocaust.”
in unison, their arms rose up like poisonous gas
then straightened out like an SS infantry
“Okay. Please put your hands down.
Now raise your hand if you’ve heard of the Rwandan genocide.”
blank stares mixed with curious ignorance
a quivering hand out of the crowd
half-way raised, like a lone survivor
struggling to stand up in Kigali
“Luz, are you sure about that?”
“No.”
“That’s what I thought.”

“Carlos—what’s genocide?”

they won’t let you hear the truth at school
if that person says “fuck”
can’t even talk about “fuck”
even though a third of your senior class
is pregnant.

I can’t teach an 18-year-old girl in a public school
how to use a condom that will save her life
and that of the orphan she will be forced
to give to the foster care system—
“Carlos, how many 13-year-olds do you know that are HIV-positive?”

“Honestly, none. But I do visit a shelter every Monday and talk with
six 12-year-old girls with diagnosed AIDS.”
while 4th graders three blocks away give little boys blowjobs during recess
I met an 11-year-old gang member in the Bronx who carries
a semi-automatic weapon to study hall so he can make it home
and you want me to censor my language

“Carlos, what’s genocide?”

your books leave out Emmett Till and Medgar Evers
call themselves “World History” and don’t mention
King Leopold or diamond mines
call themselves “Politics in the Modern World”
and don’t mention Apartheid

“Carlos, what’s genocide?”

you wonder why children hide in adult bodies
lie under light-color-eyed contact lenses
learn to fetishize the size of their asses
and simultaneously hate their lips
my students thought Che Guevara was a rapper
from East Harlem
still think my Mumia t-shirt is of Bob Marley
how can literacy not include Phyllis Wheatley?
schools were built in the shadows of ghosts
filtered through incest and grinding teeth
molded under veils of extravagant ritual

“Carlos, what’s genocide?”

“Roselyn, how old was she? Cuántos años tuvo tu madre cuando se murió?”

“My mother had 32 years when she died. Ella era bellísima.”

…what’s genocide?

they’ve moved from sterilizing “Boriqua” women
injecting indigenous sisters with Hepatitis B,
now they just kill mothers with silent poison
stain their loyalty and love into veins and suffocate them

…what’s genocide?

Ridwan’s father hung himself
in the box because he thought his son
was ashamed of him

…what’s genocide?

Maureen’s mother gave her
skin lightening cream
the day before she started the 6th grade

…what’s genocide?

she carves straight lines into her
beautiful brown thighs so she can remember
what it feels like to heal

…what’s genocide?
…what’s genocide?

“Carlos, what’s genocide?”

“Luz, this…
this right here…
is genocide.”

-

Carlos Andres Gomez; “What’s Genocide?” (via oncewild)

THIS TOUCHED MEEEEE

(via shartichoke)

(Source: dogfishtail)



myvoicemyright:

Acid attack survivors in India model new clothing range for powerful photoshoot

Survivors of acid attacks in India have become the face of a new clothing range designed by a woman who had acid thrown in her face while she was asleep four years ago.Delhi-based designer Rupa and her friends Rita, Sonam, Laxmi and Chanchal modelled the clothes from her new range, Rupa Designs, for photographer Rahul Saharan.

Rupa suffered extensive injuries when her stepmother threw acid in her face while she was sleeping in 2008.

She was allegedly left without any medical aid for six hours before her uncle found her and transported her to hospital, where she underwent eleven operations and spent three months being cared for.



blackladyblue:

harriet-fried-chicken-up-north:

holybolognajabronies:

mynameisdreik:

deaupeassmango:

dablackpeterpan:

unexplained-events:

Strange Marine Creature

This strange creature was filmed underwater by drillers in the deep ocean. It is called Deepstaria enigmatica. It looks like an underwater dementor.

VIDEO

DA FUCK IS THAT!

A FUCKING DEMENTOR!

Yes, I will remain firmly on land.

#StoryIdeas

I respectfully request to be missed entirely with that shit.


hungrylikethewolfie:

andythanfiction:

nerdsinmypants:


Stages of Deterioration in the Human Body
The Moment Of Death: 1. The heart stops. 2. The skin gets tight and ashen in color. 3. All the muscles relax. 4. The bladder and bowels empty.  5. The body temperature begins to drop 1 1/2 degrees Fahrenheit per hour. After 30 minutes: 6. The skin gets purple and waxy. 7. The lips, fingernails, and toenails fade to a pale color. 8. Blood pools at the bottom of the body. 9. The hands and feet turn blue. 10. The eyes sink into the skull. After 4 hours: 11. Rigor mortis has set in. 12. The purpling of the skin and the pooling of the blood continue. 13. Rigor continues to tighten muscles for another 24 hours or so. After 12 hours: 14. The body is in full rigor mortis. After 24 hours: 15. The body is now the temperature of the surrounding environment. 16. In males, the semen dies. 17. The head and neck are now a greenish-blue color. 18. The greenish-blue color spreads to the rest of the body. 19. There is a pervasive smell of rotting meat. After 3 days: 20. The gas in the body tissues forms large blisters on the skin. 21. The whole body begins to bloat and swell grotesquely. 22. Fluids leak from the mouth, nose, vagina, and rectum. After 3 weeks: 23. The skin, hair, and nails are so loose they can easily be pulled off the corpse. 24. The skin bursts open on many places on the body. 25. Decomposition will continue until the body is nothing but skelital remains, a process that can take a month or so in hot climates, and two months or more in cold climates.

This is actually pretty interesting.

Important for writers…helps avoid either walking in and knowing someone died moments ago “from the smell” (unless that smell is piss and shit), or finding someone dead for a week that “looks like they’re sleeping.”

Reblogging for reference.

hungrylikethewolfie:

andythanfiction:

nerdsinmypants:

Stages of Deterioration in the Human Body


The Moment Of Death:
1. The heart stops.
2. The skin gets tight and ashen in color.
3. All the muscles relax.
4. The bladder and bowels empty. 
5. The body temperature begins to drop 1 1/2 degrees Fahrenheit per hour.

After 30 minutes:
6. The skin gets purple and waxy.
7. The lips, fingernails, and toenails fade to a pale color.
8. Blood pools at the bottom of the body.
9. The hands and feet turn blue.
10. The eyes sink into the skull.

After 4 hours:
11. Rigor mortis has set in.
12. The purpling of the skin and the pooling of the blood continue.
13. Rigor continues to tighten muscles for another 24 hours or so.

After 12 hours:
14. The body is in full rigor mortis.

After 24 hours:
15. The body is now the temperature of the surrounding environment.
16. In males, the semen dies.
17. The head and neck are now a greenish-blue color.
18. The greenish-blue color spreads to the rest of the body.
19. There is a pervasive smell of rotting meat.

After 3 days:
20. The gas in the body tissues forms large blisters on the skin.
21. The whole body begins to bloat and swell grotesquely.
22. Fluids leak from the mouth, nose, vagina, and rectum.

After 3 weeks:
23. The skin, hair, and nails are so loose they can easily be pulled off the corpse.
24. The skin bursts open on many places on the body.
25. Decomposition will continue until the body is nothing but skelital remains, a process that can take a month or so in hot climates, and two months or more in cold climates.

This is actually pretty interesting.

Important for writers…helps avoid either walking in and knowing someone died moments ago “from the smell” (unless that smell is piss and shit), or finding someone dead for a week that “looks like they’re sleeping.”

Reblogging for reference.



medievalpoc:

blackchildrensbooksandauthors:

Before There Was Mozart: The Story of Joseph Boulogne, Chevalier de Saint-George

Lesa Cline-Ransome

Joseph Boulogne loved music. The singing of the birds, the beat of drums, the peal of church bells—and most of all, the soaring notes of his violin. But as the son of a white plantation owner and a black slave, newly arrived in France from the West Indies, what chance did Joseph have for success with his music? Here is the true story of an extraordinary boy who overcame the prejudices of his peers to become one of the finest classical musicians in all of Europe.

Author’s Photo

It’s good to know someone made a book based on his life! I have posts here and here on Chevalier Saint-Georges Boulogne, and here is a portrait of him as an adult:

image