georgia says you're never coming back
1 week ago | 40,243 notes
sunvapor: What the fucks happening in Ferguson?

clehmentine:

Alright, i’m gonna sit down and basically explain the situation in this ask so everyone of my followers knows why i’m so pissed.

Michael Brown, a 17 - 18 year old african american boy was unlawfully shot (8-10 times supposedly) by police in St Louis, Missouri on saturday, august 9th, 2014. He was unarmed, and had done nothing to attract suspicion other than the fact that he was black. His body was left in the street for 4 hours. (beware: somewhat graphic image linked)

There are several claims from witnesses (see: Dorian Johnson’s account and video [HIGHLY RECOMMEND READING UP ON HIS ACCOUNT, ITS VERY SPECIFIC] — Brown’s friend who experienced the situation first hand, La’Toya Cash and Phillip Walker— Ferguson residents nearby the incident),  that fall together in generally close claims. However, the only one who’s claim seems out of place is the police officer’s who shot Brown. Who, by the way, is put off on paid administrative leave AND who’s name remained under anonymity for his safety (However, attorney Benjamin Crump is looking for a way to force release his name). He claims that Brown began to wrestle the officer for his gun and tried attacking him after he told Brown and his friend Dorian Johnson (22) to “get the f*ck on the sidewalk”.

According to Johnson, after a minor confrontation on the officer’s part where he grabbed Brown by the neck and then by the shirt, the officer pulled his gun on Brown and shot him at point blank range on the right side of his body. Brown and Johnson were able to get away briefly and started running. However, Brown was shot in the back, supposedly disabling him from getting very far. He turned around with his arms in the air and said “I don’t have a gun, stop shooting!” By this point, Brown and the officer were face to face as the cop shot him several times in the face and chest until he was finally dead. Johnson ran to his apartment and by the sound of his account, seemingly had some sort of panic attack. Later he emerged from his home to see Brown still laying in the streets. People were gathered with their cellphones, screaming at the police.

According to msnbc, the police refuse to interview Johnson at all, despite his amazing courage to come forward. They didn’t wanna hear it. They only listened to the cop’s account of it all and were vague with the media on what they thought happened. They’ve also refused to commit to a timeline in releasing autopsy results and other investigation information.

Numerous rumors are sweeping around such as Brown stealing candy from a QuickTrip, the store he emerged from calling the cops on him, Brown reaching for a gun, Brown attacking the cop first, ect. But these have all been debunked. (I know a lot of these have been debunked, but im having a hard time finding sources. if anyone could help out and link some legit ones id be SO grateful)

The event in and of itself was terrible, but now it has escalated beyond belief. Around 100 or more people, mostly black, went to the police station to protest peacefully. Things quickly turned bad as martial law got involved and authorities were bringing in K9s, tanks, heavy artillery, ect. The heavy police presence only made things worse as riots began to break out and looting and vandalism started. [ x ] [ x ] [ x ]

Now, as of very recently, the media has been banned from Ferguson. There is also a No-Fly zone above Ferguson for the reason of “ TO PROVIDE A SAFE ENVIRONMENT FOR LAW ENFORCEMENT ACTIVITIES ” as said on the Federal Aviation Commission’s website. Cop cars are lined up on the borders to prevent people from entering/leaving. Media outlets are being threatened with arrest. It completely violates our amendments and everything.

It’s becoming increasingly scary and difficult to find out whats going on over there. I’m afraid this is all the information I have, though. If anybody else knows anything about the situation, please feel free to add on or correct any mistakes i’ve made as i’m no expert on writing these things.

And as a personal favor, i’d really appreciate anyone to give this a reblog in order to spread the word. I think it’s a shame that this is going on in our own country yet so few people know about it. Help me make this topic huge and get this as much attention as possible.

1 week ago | 258,516 notes

there’s just so much bad in the world it’s just so hard to be able to eat my breakfast and read a book and enjoy nice weather and not think about all the wrongs that are going on, all the blind eyes, all the slicked mouths, all the shut ears. 

1 week ago | 41 notes

Your name is Zakaria or Trayvon or Michael or Mohammed and you are a child and you have been murdered because the people who run this world have failed you.

1 week ago | 52 notes
River Water Hallelujahs

Huck kisses Angie in orange light on an empty road and no one sees.

-

Angie tells Huck things like in my dreams a bird cut through the telephone wires and that oak tree fell into our living room i want to hold up a gas station not for the money but for all the popsicle stick lights and Huck knows she means i love you.

-

The first time Angie trips, she is eighteen years old with Tom and Jimmy by the swamp waters and Ton is wasted and flirty and keeps touching her thigh, kneading it through her jeans.

"Tom, baby, make me clumsy"

-

Angie is skinny and pretty with deep dimples and eyes that never open all the way.

Huck wants her the second he sees hers.
-

"Huck?"

"Yeah?"

"What would you do if I left?"

"Where would you go?"

"Maybe the river a couple miles east."

"Wait for you to come back."

-

Huck’s not a bad guy really, he just isn’t sure he exists sometimes.

He sets the oak tree in fire. Makes a mark. Kisses Angie.

No one sees.

1 week ago | 43 notes
Poem for syrup dreams, brush fire smoke, the forest gutted, two miles westward. Poem for pink tongues and the broken headboard and how you slept in jeans nights we got home late and scared, our knuckles bruised, noses bleeding. Poem for glasses off, blind. Poem for cups of sugar on the front porch, salt in our bed. poem for empty fridge, empty pockets, all the vases broken, flowers peeking through. Poem for empty bowls of porridge, this house too big for the both of us. Poem for my name, rebirth, and how you look at me in the dark, our silhouettes the lightest parts of us.
1 week ago | 271 notes

This is a battle, a war, and the casualties could be your hearts and souls.

1 week ago | 6,684 notes
Anonymous: are you still interested in writing short stories? i love your poetry so much xx

ty ty ty!!! sometimes? i do short fiction occasionally (my huckleberry finn stuff is primarily fiction) but for the most part i just write prose poems lol

1 week ago | 4 notes
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