Fancy Llama

A blog of art, quotes, personal poetry and general discussion. And some from others. Let's just call it venting; woosah!

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Individualism is a luxury that people cannot afford anymore, even the concept of soul is a collective concept as a-posed to ” if my parents didn’t I got to” . Meaning you can’t save anyone but yourself. Where as the collective soul is the opposite. You cannot do something without helping someone there. The indivisibility of freedom is collectivism. For example you put a person In a place where he/she does not identify with he/she will lose their soul, where as u put a person back where he/she belongs they can feel who they are….

Embryo Governments

WTO, IMF, The World Bank: The embryo governments we did not vote for.

Why do we have no say in decisions that bring hardship to our lives?

Reblogged from awkwardsituationist

I’m not ashamed
of my scars, for they
allow me to understand.
I’m ashamed
of the world
for not

Cracking Six

Well, done got me a six
pack, six shooter, six spitters,
six shots to this system

Reblogged from tropicaltrash

"We were bumped from two planes, and white passengers were put on those planes. We had to stay overnight in one city before we could catch a bus the rest of the trip to Daytona Beach. We came from California — and I knew what discrimination was — but it wasn’t a legislated thing like it was in the South. When I got to Jacksonville, I just walked into the white ladies’ restroom just to recover some of my dignity and my sense of myself because I was horrified by it." - Rachel Robinson [x]

(Source: tropicaltrash, via alcatraz-days)

The Dirty Bomb

A Dirty Bomb: A nuclear weapon improvised from radioactive nuclear waste material and conventional explosives.

An interesting name for a weapon. Now this is merely a personal opinion, and I do realize that I know very little in this world. So do feel free to correct me here folks. But is there such a thing as a clean bomb, a “clean” nuclear weapon? I’ve been around some bombs in my life, none of which did any healing when detonated, nor cleaning for that matter.

It seems to me that this dirty bomb (a weapon most likely used/crafted by rebels, militia, or “terrorists;” and lets be honest and realistic here, sold to such organizations by outside global military powers) has been named such to shed dark light to these organizations. You hear it on the news or in the movies, “the terrorists may have gotten their hands on a dirty bomb.” Seems these guys just can’t get their hands on a normal bomb. Yes, because they are dirty…because those “CLEAN” bombs manufactured in the U.S and elsewhere, those “CLEAN” bombs dropped on innocents in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria (to name a few) take life in a more merciful fashion than the ugly dirty bomb. 

I’m not pro terrorism at all, but I am not pro violence either. A bomb is a bomb. A bomb is used in violent means. A bomb is used to harm. I’m not talking about those used for demolition of buildings, mining or avalanche control. You know what bombs I’m talking about. Bombs used to control people, persuade people, enforce submission. Those are all dirty bombs. THERE ARE SUBTLE THINGS CREATED TO SWAY YOUR WAY OF THINKING, OPEN YOUR MIND.

-Mjr. Korin

Reblogged from agritecture


Three Uber Cool Floating Urban Agriculture Ideas:

See image captions:

(Source: agritecture)

Your ink spills gorgeously
The bowels of your psyche
Must be a frightful place

The American Dream Really Just A Dream?

"Cruel, inhuman and degrading." These are words you often associate with third-world countries, war zones or even off-the-book sites like Guantanamo Bay. You probably wouldn’t expect to hear those words applied to park benches, subway stations and empty stairwells in cities across America.

But that’s exactly what the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights argued in a recently released and damning periodic report on the state of human rights in the U.S. Though the report covered everything from the death penalty and gun violence to drones and rendition, the most eye-catching section was the UN’s condemnation of the criminalization of homelessness in the U.S., which “raises concerns of discrimination and cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment”

"I’m just simply baffled by the idea that people can be without shelter in a country, and then be treated as criminals for being without shelter," said Nigel Rodley, a human rights lawyer and the chairman of the UN committee. “The idea of criminalizing people who don’t have shelter is something that I think many of my colleagues might find as difficult as I do to even begin to comprehend.”

Image Credit: Affordable Housing Institute

The background: The criminalization of homelessness is indeed a growing problem in the U.S., with more and more cities opting to arrest people for loitering or occupying public spaces — and applying violent tactics in certain cases. Last month, the Associated Press reported that a mentally ill, homeless man was jailed in Rikers Island and eventually “baked to death” in his cell. Another sick, homeless man was killed in March after a standoff with the Albuquerque police.

And escaping homelessness is not simply a matter of choice. Even those who attempt to find employment are often denied for not having a permanent address, which makes it nearly impossible to escape the cycle of homelessness. Despite the proven economic benefits of eliminating homelessness, the American system punishes those who have trouble escaping their circumstances — without giving them a leg up. More and more, it seems like the “American Dream” really is nothing more than a dream. 

And peaceful Woods
Engulfed in flames
Light a match
We’re so detached

We’re just animals
Who’ve sold our souls
Reclaim your sight 

Our sordid boon
Material lust
All to dust
Our Midas touch

It’s our moral  right
To shine bright
To make a way
Remove the shroud 

Reblogged from valiyria


"I do know some things

    I know I love you

          I know you love me”

(Source: niymeria)

Our Barren Dominion

From this bed
Fraught and fulfilled; late
With god’s green hair
I watch fellow beasts, feathered

In my mother’s nest
Atop Big Ben’s soaring sight
Aloof to the shackle of his tick
Aloof to the hardknuckled tock

One flies off
Upon my selfish gaze
Then another
Upon this eye’s greedy glaze

One is left
Then, she too takes flight
Gone, but remains
A shadow on my pitiful plight

In this barren bed
Once fraught and fulfilled
My thirst for dominion thrives
As a lead colored sky


Inside an acoustic guitar.The house of sound looks quite serene.

Inside an acoustic guitar.
The house of sound looks quite serene.

Pits of the World

Well my mother told me, thinking back
The closest pal you’ll have is that ole train track
And when I was sixteen I said, I’m going my own
So I’m leaving this place with no though of coming home

Now I’m gone
Yes I’m gone
Said I’m gone, at the pits of this world
I’m strapped to the Queen and the hairdresser’s queue
Yes, I’m gone, at the bed of the world

Satcheled words and lord god knows
Here by the flames with a busted muse
The fresh scented air keeps feeding my care
But some days the thought’s all too much to bare

Now I’m gone
Yes I’m gone
Said I’m gone, at the pits of the world
I’m strapped to the Queen and the hairdresser’s queue
Yes,’ I’m gone, at the pits of the world

 Innocence lost is a what they see
Twins of Hoopeston, the sisters Hoaks
Bread and Butter, this corner and I
And I dream all night about a beautiful place

Now I’m gone
Yes I’m gone
Said I’m gone, at the pits of the world
I’m strapped to the Queen and the hairdresser’s queue
Yes,’ I’m gone, at the pits of the world

Amidst God’s green locks I sleep at last
As I balance a diamond on a strand of grass
Shirt stained with whiskey and dew
And I dream all night about a beautiful place

Now I’m gone
Yes I’m gone
Said I’m gone, at the pits of the world
I’m strapped to the Queen and the hairdresser’s queue
Yes,’ I’m gone, at the pits of the world

Well I dinned last night with Jerry the mouse
On minced leather, poached thought it goose
Wish I had eggs but the birds still drop
And white part’s still perfect for slickin’ down your hair

Now I’m gone
Yes I’m gone
Said I’m gone, at the pits of the world
I’m strapped to the Queen and the hairdresser’s queue
Yes,’ I’m gone, at the pits of the world