061410 ♥ 11373Keep reblogging guys, it’s not going to kill you to hit reblog and ok real quick to possibly save someones life.(via hugsfromdemi)
(via xishe) The beauty of composition is a voice of God… I could listen and create all the live long day… k.marie
060910 ♥ 2
052510 ♥ 3075via aminah:
bumshabanter:samaxineeee:mistervalentino:itspeterkha:leftmebroken:letmebeyourguarantee:intoasylum:(via mnmal)
I’m starting to wonder if singing is a genetic trait that is tied toward individuals of African heritage. Also, I wonder if there has been any research aimed towards identifying the singing gene. Not just any type of singing that may require a banjo, whiskey, or harmonica (unless Steve is on it which would result as further evidence). It just seems that blacks have a large representation in all areas within the musical art form. Whenever there is a need for any type of soul or personal connection, musical communication, or experience warranted; blacks are typically represented. You can find us on the microphone singing lead or in the white choir robes singing backup at the Grammys. I can’t help but add that my many fascinations and award this as my quandary of the evening… That unique experience in the form of any musical communication has remained lucid to even the most course heart or able ear. The influence of black musical composition has been quite axiomatic throughout history, if you could take a moment to consider the notion. We are a soulful body of people and when we sing it is a total body experience. America’s timeline has been woven together by musical staffs painted by the souls of black folk. Nevertheless, soulful singing may not be a trait frequently found in individuals of African decent. Perhaps blacks were just the first ones who choose to or was forced towards transparent tears in soulful cries and found a melody to pull them through. Who knows… the chicken or the egg… Goodnight (one word or two?)
Green, orange water drops, gliding and swimming faster. Swimming without a paddle praying for the wind. A 23 year old puberty spurt, not quite what one expects… There hasn’t been any acne breakouts or awkward growth spurts, but damn! These are some real ass growing pains. Feels like my heart is going to burst through my ribs. splattering hues of purple, yellows, and pinks on everything in sight….. What’s next?….. What’s charging into my mind… Its cooling and cleansing … Just got to feel what’s trying to be and change to find a place that’s far more suited… but, not too far off; gotta release every part conditioned to bound.
Puberty again… wonder if my the left breast finally catch up to the right. There is definitely a melody gliding through my atmosphere. My senses hear everything now. With keen senses comes responsibly, too loud to be ignored. That’s what wants to burst through your seams… but who wants that? Those who know, who don’t do don’t know. Maybe those who know and don’t do just don’t feel like doing it yet… feet dragging so heavily your leaving your shadows to swim in canals.
What’s stopping you?… You, right?!?! That’s the kicker… I’ll tell you one thing…Good ain’t good enough when greatness is waiting. Gotta stop fighting the weekend wars, and pick your mind off the sidewalk. Amplify the souls melody; and just BE. That’s the way we get by, to get by. Two roads diverge in a forest. Why is sin the one most followed? Not the one with fire and brimstone that burns the flesh because you broke a commandment, but the sin of disposition.
Anna Mae stop fighting me.
042110
