"we tell ourselves in an accent heavier than water
“We’re full of vices and horrors and whims—”
we positioned our tongues like kalashnikovs
each sentence a trigger-happy sniper
our language is made of rocket launchers"

— from Intifadah, Scherezade Siobhan©  (via sacreamour)

(via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

"I think now—at midnight—
that I never slept in my life,
that when from time to time I closed
my eyes and submerged all I saw
in the semblance of sleep,
I didn’t sleep."

— Rafael Alberti, “Song 35,” from The Ecco Anthology of International Poetry. (via literarymiscellany)

(via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

b-sama:

Alignment of Values - An exhibition of new work by the Mozambican painter Gemuce ‘In Search of Europe’







Considering the Possible in Africa and the Middle East examined co-working practices between artists from Africa, the Middle East and the former Ottoman Empire as they articulate, through their art practice, a desire to break free from European aesthetic standards and influences.




Friday, 11 April 2014 - 11:00am to Saturday, 17 May 2014 - 6:00pm



Venue: 

Tiwani Contemporary



Venue website: 

Tiwani Contemporary



Venue location/map: 

Map

b-sama:

Alignment of Values - An exhibition of new work by the Mozambican painter Gemuce ‘In Search of Europe’

(Source: gatewayforafrica.org, via dynamicafrica)

"Here,
in the room of my life
the objects keep changing.
Ashtrays to cry into,
the suffering brother of the wood walls,
the forty-eight keys of the typewriter
each an eyeball that is never shut,
the books, each a contestant in a beauty contest,
the black chair, a dog coffin made of Naugahyde,
the sockets on the wall
waiting like a cave of bees,
the gold rug
a conversation of heels and toes,
the fireplace
a knife waiting for someone to pick it up,
the sofa, exhausted with the exertion of a whore,
the phone
two flowers taking root in its crotch,
the doors
opening and closing like sea clams,
the lights
poking at me,
lighting up both the soil and the laugh.
The windows,
the starving windows
that drive the trees like nails into my heart.
Each day I feed the world out there
although birds explode
right and left.
I feed the world in here too,
offering the desk puppy biscuits.
However, nothing is just what it seems to be.
My objects dream and wear new costumes,
compelled to, it seems, by all the words in my hands
and the sea that bangs in my throat."

— Anne Sexton, from The Room Of My Life (via violentwavesofemotion)

belalalaa:

انزلقنا إلى الدوائر الخطأ في الأوقات الصحيحة، ثم عدونا إلى الدوائر الصحيحة، في الأوقات الضائعة، لم نكن يوما إلا غرباء أو متأخرين، تعوزنا الحماسة، أو تنقصنا المعركة، تفوتنا لحظات الذروة، لخوف مرضي من الزيف، أو لنقص وراثي في المشهدية، أحببنا من كان ينبغي أن نحبهم، وقت أن كنا من لايجب أن نكون، ثم…

"

I turned night
into water.
To swim
Heal my bones.
Morning came
Cooked me
into raw tenderness.

"

Healing -Tapiwa Mugabe, tapiwamugabe.tumblr.com

(via tapiwamugabe)

(via tapiwamugabe)

"i am considering
the abysmal grottoes
of my vernacular
unknown archaeology
blooming the terraces of babylon
in bastardized flowers of skulls
amorphous as syllables
phrased philistine
against your biblical
i wonder if you can
make syntax out of
countries knock your knee
into their almond groves
bend fingers into cloves
curled like an apostrophe
this land is the only language
i will ever ripen into"

— Scherezade Siobhan© (via viperslang)

(via viperslang)

thatonesuheirhammad:

elephant dream. yelena bryksenkova.

thatonesuheirhammad:

elephant dream. yelena bryksenkova.

"I wanted to be calm, like a mound with all its cities destroyed,
and tranquil, like a full cemetery."

— Yehuda Amichai, from I Have Become Very Hairy (via violentwavesofemotion)

"

And sometimes it happens that you are friends and then
You are not friends,
And friendship has passed.
And whole days are lost and among them
A fountain empties itself.

And sometimes it happens that you are loved and then
You are not loved,
And love is past.
And whole days are lost and among them
A fountain empties itself into the grass.

And sometimes you want to speak to her and then
You do not want to speak,
Then the opportunity has passed.
Your dreams flare up, they suddenly vanish.

And also it happens that there is nowhere to go and then
There is somewhere to go,
Then you have bypassed.
And the years flare up and are gone,
Quicker than a minute.

So you have nothing.
You wonder if these things matter and then
As soon you begin to wonder if these things matter
They cease to matter,
And caring is past.
And a fountain empties itself into the grass.

"

— Brian Patten, from Sometimes It Happens (via violentwavesofemotion)