Langston Hughes meets with Paul Robeson, Canada Lee, and Arna Bontemps about the Maxine Wood play, “On Whitman Avenue” in 1946. The play was about a Black World War II veteran who encountered racist opposition when he and his family moved into a White neighborhood. Mr. Lee produced and starred in the play which ran for 148 performances. This photo is from the Billy Rose Theatre Collection at the New York Public Library. Their record does not identify the gentleman on the left as Arna Bontemps (it simply says “Unidentified man”) but I am confident that it is indeed Mr. Hughes’s fellow poet and friend, Mr. Bontemps.

The Prophet (ﷺ) said: “If a woman prays her five (daily prayers), fasts her month (Ramadan), guards her chastity and obeys her husband, it will be said to her: ‘Enter Paradise by whichever of the gates of Paradise you wish.'”
—  [Narrated by Ahmad (1664) and others; classed as hasan by al-Albani because of another report in Saheeh al-Targheeb, as stated by al-Arna’oot in Takhreej al-Musnad.]

Prepare for the fabulous NO FRILLS TWINS Vanessa and Arna Rogers, two extremely extraordinary girls (from Australia, I guess) who have a very special and stunning style and moreover, fantastic voices and will one day certainly become celebrities in music business *________*

So please also take time and listen to their first professional recorded song, it really pays off:

I really love them <3

Check them also out on Facebook:


Not Unexpected Anymore” at Sally Centigrade Gallery.

Currently showing at Sally Centigrade Gallery in Denver, Colorado is the two person exhibition “Not Unexpected Anymore” featuring work by Tripper Dungan (above) and Arna Miller (Check out her work for the show here).

The works above by Tripper actually come to life by viewing them through special glasses (available when viewing at the gallery) helping to solidify his brightly colored, LSD induced, anthropomorphic creations.

Not Unexpected Anymore” is on display until June 11th, 2016.

segura a minha mão
na dança da revolução
me rodopia pelo ar
na brincadeira de gostar
me aperta sem pudor
na vontade do teu calor
chora com sinceridade
o peso de toda saudade
mas volta logo, passarinho
que transborda meu carinho
que meu corpo é o teu ninho

Trevas Antigas.