ka-kang:

Avengers(Tarot)

The Hierophant: Phil - Chiron
The Sun: Thor - Apollo
The Magician: Tony - Mercury
Strength: Steve - Herakles
The Hermit: Bruce - Cronus
The Lover: Natasha&Clint - Aphrodite&Adonis
The Devil: Loki - Pan

(via jimbuckybarnes)

25,576 notes

thelegendends:

mindfuljolteon:

thecrimsonalchemist:

mvercillo:

(x)

This is a real article. Not by the Onion.

Somebody actually said these things and wrote these words.

I…. what.

image

hey guys, the onion isn’t the only satire out there - the borowitz report is a satirical column at NYT.

(Source: prettyboystyles, via fuji--chan)

87,396 notes

Donald Moffett, “Lot 080711 (the radiant future),” from Come Together: Surviving Sandy

Donald Moffett, “Lot 080711 (the radiant future),” from Come Together: Surviving Sandy

the card representing the absolute of your fears

the card representing the absolute of your fears

5 notes

the card representing the absolute of your desires

the card representing the absolute of your desires

13 notes

Poem 9, Gloria Frym

"Dear Father,

  In order to arrive at my workplace, I have to step over the bodies.  You assume I’m exaggerating, but you did not go to my workplace, you did not step as I do, you may not have noticed.  And if you did, why did we never speak of them?  Of course, the bodies are not dead, some are nearly dead, some will soon be dead, some ask for help, some sneer, some sit with placards explaining why.  Some are accompanied by dogs, others by babies.  Once I stepped over a woman whose suitcase was open to reveal her belongings - nylons, underwear, a white eyelet blouse, a torn paperback.  Passerby stared at the suitcase while stepping over the woman, coins dropped into a white metal cup next to a pair of black pumps.  Some days I pass huge men made of dark bandages, planted on benches before thin trees.  They have no requests.  I walk by men who wear their souls on the outsides of their bodies.  They speak to themselves in low, scratched tones, their voices evicted from their own minds.  At last, the powdered woman in all white, saint and bride of my commute!  Then at the threshold, three beached mammals piled against the brick.  Father, what caught them in their throats, cast them to this sidewalk moat, the sea so far away?”

              - From Homeless At Home

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Sonnet 91, Wanda Coleman

the gates of mercy slammed on the right foot.

they would not permit return and bent
a wing. there was no choice but
to learn to boogaloo. those horrid days
were not without their pleasure, learning
to swear and wearing mock leather so tight
eyes bulged, a stolen puff or two
behind crack-broken backs and tickled palms
in hallways dark, flirtations during choir practice
as the body organized itself against the will
(a mystic gone ballistic, not home but blood
on the range) as one descended on this effed-up
breeding hole of greeds—to suffer chronic seeings


was’t hunger or holiness spurred the sighting?”
2 notes