• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Monthly Archives: December 2013

an open letter to south sudanese president salva kiir

16 Monday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry

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an open letter, Mwen renmen pwezi, Nigeria Liquefied Natural Gas Prize, poetry movement, President Salva Kiir, South Sudanese poets, warrior poets

Dec 16, 2013 (3)

It is Saturday and I read
that you are putting down
a coupe attempt, I hope

it goes well but that is not
the reason I am writing

to you. The Nigeria Liquefied
Natural Gas Prize
for Literature has awarded

another award to someone
who is not South Sudanese

but somehow someone
thought that “Nigeria Liquefied
Natural Gas Prize”
seemed

like a good title for a literary
award. Poetry is symbolic, it
can’t stop bullets or feed

starving children but it will draw
the world’s eyes to anything it touches.
It is time that the South Sudanese

have their own poetry movement,
artists drawn from every village,

every city, every refugee camp
who will let the world know what
is happening. I am not Sudanese

but I do know how to say “Mwen
renmen pwezi”
in Juba Arabic.

A nation of poets will capture
the imagination of generations to

come. If there is anyway I can
help in bringing this about please
let me know. Blessings and cheers.

Z

[[i have lost my 3rd]]

16 Monday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry

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a horrible warning, micro-poem, [[i have lost my 3rd]]

eye my purpose my
direction if you

can’t be a good
example you might

as well be
a horrible warning

this

16 Monday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry

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micro-poem, only this

what fear keeps
you away only
this only
this only this

a devil’s reply

16 Monday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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a devil's reply, demons run when a good man cums, morphine, noise, pills, poem, Poetry, sonnet, the seventh son of a seventh son, vodka

your lips slightly bruised kiss the demons run
when a good man comes with primal urges

with a seventh son of a seventh son
with your mama’s blessings on your curl-fuzz

your first pubic hair your first change bad boys
who say stay away taste these crimson lips

you can’t help yourself and the noise the noise
of the rough bite on your bottom your hips

suck you are your fingers in I know I
know it’s serious more than metal fills

gag your throat hard next time both of my thumbs
to bruise your first curl a devil’s reply

to one who consumes vodka morphine pills
consumes everything when a good man comes

Image

in love with a ghost from war-torn nagorno-karabakh

16 Monday Dec 2013

Tags

ancient church, Armenia, art, ghost girl, ghost lover, Nagorno-Karabakh, war

Dec 16, 2013 (1)

Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Armenia, Erotic, Illustration and art

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lady kaalratri

14 Saturday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Illustration and art

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Admiral Yamamoto, art, I-111, Imperial Japanese Navy, Lady Kaalratri, secret police, Tokubetsu-keibi-tai, WW2

Dec 14, 2013 (2)

Lady Kaalratri: special intelligence officer of the Imperial Japanese Navy’s Tokubetsu-keibi-tai — the literal translation being, “Corps of Special Navy Police.” Originally in charge of personnel, discipline and records from 1881 to 1945, by the outbreak of WW2 its officers were being used in both the fields of espionage and as a secret police force, much like Nazi Germany’s Gestapo. It was only one of three branches of the empire’s military that sided with Admiral Yamamoto in his attempt to prevent Tojo and the War Cabinet to bomb Pearl Harbor and begin the war against the United States. After Yamamoto’s death many of the Tokubetsu-keibi-tai’s top officers were executed as being “corrupting influences” upon the war’s effort.

The background image shows the Imperial Japanese submarine I-111 sinking the Duch passenger liner, Amsterdam, during the last days of World War 1.

united states marks first anniversary of sandy hook massacre by making all firearms even easier to purchase

14 Saturday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in irony

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gun control, irony, NRA, Sandy Hook massacre, The Onion

President Obama and his .44 Magnum Smith & Wesson, "Terrorist Fist Bump."

President Obama exhibits his .44 Magnum, “Terrorist Fist Bump,” to various members of the associated press.

US President Barack Obama has marked the anniversary of the Sandy Hook school shootings by urging Americans to push for lighter gun control.

He said that the United States had to “do more to keep bad people from getting their hands on guns by making ownership of guns easier for good people.”

Twenty children and six school workers were killed at the elementary school in Newtown, Connecticut, a year ago.

On Friday, two students were shot and wounded by another student at a school in Colorado.

“If only supporters of the 2nd Amendment had been able to purchase traditional ‘Cop Killing’ bullets and assault rifles when and wherever they like, then members of the NRA, like the Amazing Spider Man, would have used their precognitive abilities to realize a massacre was about to take place and gone out to stop it.”

Obama made reference to the National Rifle Association, one of the largest lobbies in Washington DC, who argue that any restrictions on gun-ownership is a step closer in allowing the United States to fall into the hands of “illegal aliens, communists, feminists and those [[radio edit]] from PETA.”

‘Troubled minds’

Mr Obama and his wife Michelle observed a moment of silence at the White House and lit candles in memory of those who, due to the current gun-control laws, do not have a way of defending their homes and the American way of life from “Osama bin Laden, the Elders of Zion and liberal activist judges.”

“Always remember,” Obama told the press, “When they outlaw guns, only outlaws and tyrants will have guns.”

When members of the press pointed out that bin Laden has been dead since 2011 the president shot back, “or is he?”

In his weekly radio address, Mr Obama urged Americans to do more to derestrict gun ownership and help the nation, as he put it, “heal the troubled minds of those unpatriotic Americans who try to claim that gun-laws are a way of curbing the mass shootings that have been taking place in the United States for the last three decades.”

“We have to do everything we can to protect our children from harm and make them feel loved, and valued, and cared for … and the only way to do that is by making all guns, from stylish Saturday night specials to rubber-gripped assault rifles that can punch holes in the side of a tank, legal and easily accessible to any true-blooded patriot with twenty-five dollars in their back pocket.” — The President of the United States of America during his weekly radio address.

A year ago President Obama called for laxer gun laws following the tragedy, but Congress, in turn, rejected every one.

In the town of Newton itself some of the bereaved held small ceremonies but the media were asked to stay away.

“The community needs time to be alone and to reflect on our past year in personal ways, without a camera or a microphone,” First Selectman Walter Sakamoto told a news conference this week, adding, “if it weren’t for the cowardly actions of Congress in its Orwellian attempt to control the sale of firearms then perhaps one of the [elementary] students or teachers would have been packing that day and helped to prevent the tragedy.”

Mr. Sakamoto then drew out his own Glock pistol from his coat pocket and fired several rounds into the ceiling, shouting, “what do you think about that, [[radio edit]]?!?”

the darkness in the spark

11 Wednesday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Prose

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fiction, Manistee, Michigan, prose, the darkness in the spark

It was an old cemetery; the original inhabitants who dwelt there having been long dead. Those who die today are laid to rest in a new plot of land close to the First Baptist Church, within sound of the pre-recorded bells that call the Dutch and Polish to prayer. The little church stands faithful guard over the older dead, though, those who were neither Polish, Dutch or Baptist; for there are stranger and darker faiths and they remember when the ghost of a dead nun, Sister Mary Janina, murdered up in the village of Isadore, began to haunt that forgotten corner of West Michigan. One night strange women’s footprints were found in a nearby swamp. Some were a few days old while others were fresh. Later in the day more women’s prints turned up along a road leading toward the church. Three days later a neighboring farmer reported hearing a woman singing from the swamp near his home; he said that he saw a flickering blue lantern-light through the trees. That had been in 1907. Since then Robber Barons had built empires only to watch them collapse when the Great Depression struck. Ships plied the channel that ran through the center of town; great iron hulks passing the rolling hills, farms and forests from which Manistee got its name, an Ojibwe word, meaning, “spirit in the woods.” Today a low fence, enclosing those age-old grounds, has been kept in good repair; there are no weeds, no toppled headstones as one might find in larger cities such as Grand Rapids or Muskegon. And yet, despite what the local nuns might claim, there remains a sinister feeling dwelling in the First Baptist Church’s cemetery. Even on sunny days it feels gray and desolate, for off in one corner are the graves of the angry bodiless dead, those of all the sailors and fishermen of Manistee who have ventured out upon the raging surface of the lake and never returned. There are some dead who will never be silent until their long lost bodies are finally laid to rest.

the lie that runs

10 Tuesday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Feminism, Poetry, sonnet

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feminism, hellcat art, poem, Poetry, punk isn't dead just boring, queer cinema, smash the patriarchy, sonnet, the lie that runs, the problem with cinema, transgender films

A film, as in flick, as in cinema,
as in a tale, once told, that would change us,

change the world. But that’s not film’s role. Dogma
dictates that our art will make us famous,

that we’ll work in ivory towers, prattle,
publish and die beloved. I don’t want that.

Who makes films for the transgendered? muscle
women? tomboys? femme toys? Who makes hellcat

art? Who’ll smash the patriarchy with blood
money stolen from Hollywood? I touch

on this as if I had a clue; my lie
that runs on discontentment and hatred

of an art movement that promised so much
but gave so little while bleeding us dry.

][][

“buy my album and make me a millionaire. I want a house in the country.”
— Johnny Rotten from The Great Rock ‘n’ Roll Swindle (1980)

“punk isn’t dead, just boring”
— London graffiti (2009)

birth of my ghost daughter in blood and flame

09 Monday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Illustration and art

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art, bad rhyme, birth of my ghost daughter in blood and flame, blood and fire, ghost daughter, painful poetry

Dec 09, 2013 (7)

It’s amazing how simply turning a picture upside down creates an entire new image. Originally this was a woman swimming just below the water’s surface. I liked the way her arms were bent, like she was going to hug a shark. But the shark just didn’t work, and I was getting frustrated because of time wasted and whatnot when I accidentally flipped the image and suddenly it looked like the woman was rising out of water on her back, all aglow, suddenly making everything surreal. I love the red color, like blood at birth, or flame, with the blue cloud in the background. I tried writing a poem to go with it but for whatever reason this ghost poem didn’t want to be awesome, which is sad but not as sad as using the words “death’s dame” in a poem. That’s just painful.

* * *

Pity the poor ghost
who forgot her name
“You’ll always be mine,
even as death’s dame.”
I called you daughter,
soul of blood and flame.

* * *

Yes, painful, indeed.

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