inothernews:

A Rock, A River, A TreeHosts to species long since departed,Marked the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokensOf their sojourn hereOn our planet floor,Any broad alarm of their hastening doomIs lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,Come, you may stand upon myBack and face your distant destiny,But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no more hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower thanThe angels, have crouched too long inThe bruising darkness,Have lain too longFace down in ignorance.
Your mouths spilling wordsArmed for slaughter.
The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,A River sings a beautiful song,Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,Delicate and strangely made proud,Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profitHave left collars of waste uponMy shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,If you will study war no more. Come,
Clad in peace and I will sing the songsThe Creator gave to me when I and theTree and the stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across yourBrow and when you yet knew you stillKnew nothing.
The River sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond toThe singing River and the wise Rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the JewThe African and Native American, the Sioux,The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the GreekThe Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.They hear. They all hearThe speaking of the Tree.
Today, the first and last of every TreeSpeaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.
Each of you, descendant of some passedOn traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name, youPawnee, Apache and Seneca, youCherokee Nation, who rested with me, thenForced on bloody feet, left me to the employment ofOther seekers—desperate for gain,Starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot …You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, boughtSold, stolen, arriving on a nightmarePraying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the Tree planted by the River,Which will not be moved.
I, the Rock, I the River, I the TreeI am yours—your Passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing needFor this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,Cannot be unlived, and if facedWith courage, need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes uponThe day breaking for you.
Give birth againTo the dream.
Women, children, men,Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your mostPrivate need. Sculpt it intoThe image of your most public self.Lift up your heartsEach new hour holds new chancesFor new beginnings.
Do not be wedded foreverTo fear, yoked eternallyTo brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,Offering you space to place new steps of change.Here, on the pulse of this fine dayYou may have the courageTo look up and out upon me, theRock, the River, the Tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new dayYou may have the grace to look up and outAnd into your sister’s eyes, intoYour brother’s face, your countryAnd say simplyVery simplyWith hopeGood morning.

— The 1993 Inaugural poem, "On The Pulse Of Morning," written by the late MAYA ANGELOU, who has died at the age of 86.

inothernews:

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.

The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.

I will give you no more hiding place down here.

You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.

Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.

The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.

Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.

Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.

Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.

Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more. Come,

Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the stone were one.

Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.

The River sings and sings on.

There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.

So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.

Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River.

Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.

Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveller, has been paid for.

You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers—desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.

You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot …
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.

Here, root yourselves beside me.

I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.

I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours—your Passages have been paid.

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.

History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.

Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.

Give birth again
To the dream.

Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.

Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.

Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.

The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.

No less to Midas than the mendicant.

No less to you now than the mastodon then.

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister’s eyes, into
Your brother’s face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

— The 1993 Inaugural poem, "On The Pulse Of Morning," written by the late MAYA ANGELOU, who has died at the age of 86.

@1 month ago with 765 notes
#rip #maya angelou 

(Source: relentlessclimb, via tarantenos)

@3 months ago with 9086 notes
#mmfd #my mad fat diary #finn nelson #nico mirallegro 

bluebackstabber:

should i attend college or take the black

(via amarling)

@3 months ago with 20350 notes
#txt #game of thrones #save yourself the trouble #take the black 
stand-up-comic-gifs:

Eugene Mirman

stand-up-comic-gifs:

Eugene Mirman

(via coupleofbananas)

@3 months ago with 1502 notes
#eugene mirman #you're my hero 

hawk-and-handsaw:

myladycatelyn:

The houses of Game of Thrones reimagined as modern brands (x)

i think i choked on tears at ‘Frey celebrations’

FREY CELEBRATIONS

(via crystalzelda)

@3 months ago with 54045 notes
#game of thrones #frey celebrations AS IF 
@3 months ago with 5409 notes
#parks and rec #leslie knope #ben wyatt 
emilianadarling:

bailarina-raven:

“I don’t want people to like her anymore, almost, that sounds really, really bad.I want people to realize that actually she’s not the same anymore. You can’t root for her forever, because she’s not there to be your favorite character. That’s not what she’s there for. She’s real. People go down bad paths and they make bad decisions, but it’s always justified in their head. I want the audience to differentiate that and not just be like, ‘Oh, it’s Arya, we love her.’ Because actually look at what Arya’s doing. She’s being eaten away from the inside out, and she’s not stopping it.” - about Arya

#A GAME OF CHILD ACTORS WHO REALLY KNOW THEIR FUCKING CHARACTERS

emilianadarling:

bailarina-raven:

“I don’t want people to like her anymore, almost, that sounds really, really bad.I want people to realize that actually she’s not the same anymore. You can’t root for her forever, because she’s not there to be your favorite character. That’s not what she’s there for. She’s real. People go down bad paths and they make bad decisions, but it’s always justified in their head. I want the audience to differentiate that and not just be like, ‘Oh, it’s Arya, we love her.’ Because actually look at what Arya’s doing. She’s being eaten away from the inside out, and she’s not stopping it.” - about Arya

#A GAME OF CHILD ACTORS WHO REALLY KNOW THEIR FUCKING CHARACTERS

(via coupleofbananas)

@3 months ago with 42483 notes
#maisie williams #game of thrones #got #arya stark #accurate 

"

I’ve never been female. But I have been black my whole life. I can perhaps offer some insight from that perspective. There are many similar social issues related to access to equal opportunity that we find in the black community, as well as the community of women in a white male dominate society…

When I look at — throughout my life — I’ve known that I wanted to do astrophysics since I was 9 years old…I got to see how the world around me reacted to my expressions of these ambitions. All I can say is, the fact that I wanted to be a scientist, an astrophysicist was hands down the path of most resistance through the forces of society.

Anytime I expressed this interest, teachers would say, ‘Oh, don’t you wanna be an athlete?’ I want to become someone that was outside of the paradigm of expectations of the people in power. Fortunately, my depth of interest of the universe was so deep and so fuel enriched that everyone of these curve balls that I was thrown, and fences built in front of me, and hills that I had to climb, I just reach for more fuel, and I just kept going.

Now, here I am, one of the most visible scientists in the land, and I wanna look behind me and say, ‘Where are the others who might have been this,’ and they’re not there! …I happened to survive and others did not simply because of forces of society that prevented it at every turn. At every turn.

…My life experience tells me that when you don’t find blacks, when you don’t find women in the sciences, I know that these forces are real, and I had to survive them in order to get where I am today.

So before we start talking about genetic differences, you gotta come up with a system where there’s equal opportunity, then we can have that conversation.

"

Neil DeGrasse Tyson in response to a question posed by Lawrence Summers, former Treasury Security and Harvard University President

"What’s up with chicks and science?"

Are there genetic differences between men and women, explain why more men are in science.

(via magnius159)

(via coupleofbananas)

@3 months ago with 17674 notes
#neil degrasse tyson #txt #long #racism #sexism 

hatin:

why am i only motivated to sort my life out at 3am

(via alyssalou)

@2 months ago with 53487 notes
#txt #what the fuck #this is actually my entire life 

(Source: monsieurturner, via madhellcat)

@3 months ago with 5812 notes
#arctic monkeys #alex turner 

notsodarling-:

Do you ever see something someone posted, and you’re just like NO YOU ARE WRONG but you think to yourself, “This isn’t the hill I want to die on” so you have to let it go?

(via crystalzelda)

@3 months ago with 18310 notes
#txt #all about me 
antolovich:

thepandabaker:

adeyami:

Land of the free home of the rich

What really scares me is that they all have significantly cheaper health care AND education, which means Americans not only make they least, they pay the most.

…wait, what?

antolovich:

thepandabaker:

adeyami:

Land of the free home of the rich

What really scares me is that they all have significantly cheaper health care AND education, which means Americans not only make they least, they pay the most.

…wait, what?

(Source: socialismartnature, via gardenheights)

@3 months ago with 114809 notes
#twitter #minimum wage #canada's minimum wage is higher in ontario #thank god 

If you had a sword in real life, what would you name it?

(Source: phoenixings, via robertdeniro)

@3 months ago with 18171 notes
#game of thrones #finn jones #loras tyrell #GET YER HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTER 
@3 months ago with 123906 notes
#inside amy schumer #video games #perfect 

bronyparctears:

Do you ever have a problem where you just don’t know how to reply to an argument, not because you don’t know the answer, but you just don’t know where to begin? Like, the foundation of knowledge you’d need to impart to this person before you could even begin to drag them out of their sinkhole of ignorance would cost thousands of dollars if it were coming from a university?

(Source: comfemgem, via crystalzelda)

@3 months ago with 102211 notes
#all about me #txt