notchainedtotrauma

[notchainedtotrauma]

I wrote this poem for my Raspberry Lemonade patrons (1$). In 1851, Samuel Adolphus Cartwright "discovers" that those who ran away from the plantation were mentally ill, suffering from a deep dislocation of the mind named drapetomania. Because why would any enslaved Black person in their right mind would want to leave the plantation and the ectasy of chattel slavery, right ? This is what this poem turns on.

Fannie Berry describing Sukie ("dat black girl") acts of sheer refusal as recounted in Scenes of Subjection by Saidiya Hartman

The archival document and screenshot above best visually describe the poem. Here are excerpts to whet your appetite:

Rendering a stage eluded surrender, the blunted tip

of a rare hand, droopy meat,

the greasy corpse of a marbled fly.

and

a child, the fury. Damp with unnaming.

Drapetomania.

and

a creamy tooth, registered as period blood,

shriveled pain.

Drapetomania.

[notchainedtotrauma]

Everyone is fighting a tough battle so reblog to give previous a sword 🗡️

[notchainedtotrauma]

This poem is exclusive to my Iced Green Tea and Raspberry Lemonade patrons. It breaks apart under the heft of a gash through Black femininity, specifically Black girlhood.

Nydia Blas, from I CAME INTO THIS WORLD HIGH AS A BIRD

The work of art above best visually describe the poem. Here are some excerpts to whet your appetite:

No scarred young girls to haul towards gold foiled bullets. They ate before and after.

Wasted bouquet of throats seared into a slit eye; the butcher kneeling overtime.

and

Women rid of crimson. Melded flesh. Nothing but flaky tongues for everybody.

Cars morsel sunlight as they stand, arrested. Black girls know about blood.

[notchainedtotrauma]

This is an all patrons (this includes the free patrons) inclusive post. This short poem turns on the tenderness and care through and besides the geographies of quotidian horror distorted and inflated.

The gifs above best visually describe the poem. Here are some excerpts to whet your appetite:

It happened; aerial women, easy as knives. Not to be prayed for.

When gripping a corpse, lay with the bruised history of a silky dress.

With the gentleness of ossified movements, a thigh resting on a barred clavicle.

No crease through pinpricking the alienated skin: a glassy eye pared to whistle.

[notchainedtotrauma]

This poem is exclusive to the Raspberry Lemonade and Ginger Limeade tiers. This poem speaks to and of acrid unraveling, of syncopated rot and of people trying their very best not to go awry.

Those gifs above best describe the poem visually. Here are some excerpts to whet your appetite:

Can we look and not wonder ?

Dismembered into migratory breath;

a woman as a desultory carousel.

and

Days of boyhood suckle the resin from the corpse;

a facial breakdown onto scripted lips,

a lunge towards drooping glass.

Oh do I love you.

and

...people chip away at the powdery mornings,

the ease of sweetener.

Go on, children. Go on.

No prayers for the remnants of froth.

[notchainedtotrauma]

Heyy I’m feeling really unwell right now so I can’t make this pretty but I could really use some help getting to and from the department of human services so I can get an insurance card. Hoping to go on Monday, my partner and I only have 1 car and her work schedule doesn’t really allow time for me to get there.

After calling multiple numbers and speaking to many robots, one was able to confirm that I have active medicaid but not a single one nor the online portal could help me with the fact that I was never sent a fucking card so I can’t fucking use it. I have an infected lip, a birth control implant that’s genuinely ruining my life, untreated schizophrenia, and completely inaccessible health insurance. Pleeeease. Thank you

I’m heartemojie on cashapp & Venmo, 13thead on PayPal

[notchainedtotrauma]

YOU GIVE ME CHILLS

UPON MY SPINE

YOU GIVE ME CHILLS

UPON MY SPINE

WE FLOAT AWAY INTO

THE WIND

WE FLOAT AWAY

INTO THE WINDS

[notchainedtotrauma]

After a war that lasted for a year and five months, we finally returned to northern Gaza. The journey back was heartbreaking—we had to walk 10 kilometers on foot, stepping over roads that were completely destroyed, each ruin telling a story of loss. But what awaited us at the end was even more devastating—Gaza was no longer the Gaza we knew. It had become a ghost city, erased from existence. My home, once a warm shelter for my family, was gone. Nothing remained but rubble and an eerie silence. The harsh reality is that there is no life here; Gaza has been completely wiped out.

[notchainedtotrauma]

I want to thank people for the huge amount of help I have received. I've been able to have regular meals, some transportation money, and to be able to regularly replenish my toiletry.

But once again, as I said, I'm completely dependent on external help, with severe depression and severe OCD, hallucinations, digestive issues, and a still depleted immune system. I now have weekly medical appointments, which means greater expenses on transportation. I also live in an emotionally abusive environment and I must wash my clothes outside, I'm mostly barred from the kitchen so I buy ready made meals (which is costly). And I still need to renew toiletry as it goes.

Ppl: ccd4t@virginia.edu

K0fi

A campaign to aggregate all my needs in one shot on the long run

[notchainedtotrauma]

Micaiah Carter, Adeline in Barrettes

[notchainedtotrauma]

Micaiah Carter, Untitled, from his project "Optimism"

[notchainedtotrauma]

I am Mohammed, I live in the northern besieged Gaza Strip, I am 21 years old, I have always tried to create a beautiful future for myself in which I achieve all my wishes. I had ambitions and dreams, but they evaporated because of the war, but I still want to achieve them despite the siege. During the war, I lost many things, including my university, my dreams, my job, and some friends. Despite that, I still want to achieve my dreams and ambitions. I want to rebuild my life again, so please help me in that and rebuild my life. Therefore,

please donate as much as you can because that helps me a lot. If you cannot donate, tell people about my suffering.

[notchainedtotrauma]

This poem is exclusive to the Raspberry Lemonade and Ginger Limeade tiers. This poem speaks to and of acrid unraveling, of syncopated rot and of people trying their very best not to go awry.

Those gifs above best describe the poem visually. Here are some excerpts to whet your appetite:

Can we look and not wonder ?

Dismembered into migratory breath;

a woman as a desultory carousel.

and

Days of boyhood suckle the resin from the corpse;

a facial breakdown onto scripted lips,

a lunge towards drooping glass.

Oh do I love you.

and

...people chip away at the powdery mornings,

the ease of sweetener.

Go on, children. Go on.

No prayers for the remnants of froth.

[notchainedtotrauma]

I'M ALL USED UP

PRETTY BOY

OVER AND OVER AGAIN

MY NAIL COLOR IS WEARING OFF

[notchainedtotrauma]

This is all very magical negro coded, is all I'm going to say.

i have been trying to figure out why the whole 'fae god' and katniss everdeen things with kendrick lamar on here were bothering me, and i think i finally put it into words.

most posts like that are probably coming from well-meaning white people (i am also partially a White People, to be clear), who otherwise dont really listen to rap. they cannot find a way to 'relate' to this black man who sings largely about issues that affect the black community– and rather than try and meet him where he is, they have to fit him into these little tumblr cultural boxes before he can be 'palatable' to them.

they have to shave off the rougher/more abrasive aspects of his work and activism because it makes them uncomfortable, that way they can pigeonhole him into something that allows them to enjoy his work without the critical analysis that MUST come with it

he is not your fae god, he is not a YA protagonist, he is not a little gremlin or a cinnamon roll or a blorbo. He is a human being with opinions and beliefs that deeply permeate his work, and to ignore that truth is to ignore the entire point. PLEASE try to engage with artists' work outside of the lens of tumblr fandom, and i mean that as nicely as possible. you are doing YOURSELF a disservice

[notchainedtotrauma]

This poem is Black Coffee, Raspberry Lemonade, Iced Green Tea, Root Beer tiers exclusive. This is a poem that's propelled by the sinister and the uncanny, by the possibility of horror resting against the quotidian, and by the spectacle of pain.

Delainey Hayles as Claudia in the Interview With The Vampire series produced by Rolin Jones and Mark Johnson

This still best visually describe the poem. Here are some excerpts to whet your appetite:

A mayfly as a curving paralysis; handheld debris of a man, a fingerful of flour.

For hours, a cup of teal and the obsessive cigarette; a splintered curl.

and

The Old Hollywood scene as a fur coat and a gaunt stare. Dust for foreground.

What does meaning attach to a water logged girl child, a dusky fingernail ?

[notchainedtotrauma]

This poem is exclusive to my Iced Tea, Black Coffee, Raspberry Lemonade patrons. It speaks of the destructiveness of the administrative process, and the atomization of the interrogation room.

The giif above best sums up the poem visually. Here are excerpts to whet your appetite:

The interrogation room; a sky blue, as usual. Obviously whirring heads.

Breath demands pausing as in weeding the horizon; children so small they're chalk.

and

There is no end to stilled atomization, a refusal suckled from a burgundy dot.

Shoulders stand at attention; a whirling body, the tension. Of course. Of course.