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Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Illustration and art
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mon petit flittermouse
26 Thursday Dec 2013
Author Archives: babylon crashing
this is what a feminist looks like
24 Tuesday Dec 2013
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Feminism, Illustration and art
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do I do
24 Tuesday Dec 2013
you ask me what do I think about when
I touch myself but you can’t be bothered
with the other three hundred and sixty
four days of the year you ask me what do
I play on the stereo to muffle
my screams but laugh when I tell you about
singing along with the car radio
in traffic jams you ask me what do I
do when my hands tire do I roll onto
my belly to keep going but roll your
eyes when you see me writing with my kid-
like cursive you ask me what do I do
right after orgasm because you want
to get laid and think poetry somehow
will do that, as if just saying “fuck! fuck!
fuck!” enough will make it happen you ask
me but none of your poems are about
me, anyone could respond, which is why
when I say that I collapse onto my
back, mouth agape, panting. damp disheveled
hair clinging across my forehead it has
nothing to do with orgasms but with
me dying horribly on a muddy
battlefield and like my orgasms my
most cherished fantasy won’t include you
midwives and the hemlock cure
24 Tuesday Dec 2013
Tags
hemlock, Latin, male doctors, midwives, poem, Poetry, shamaness, sonnet, witchcraft
you who study Latin tend to make poor
doctors, restricted to just your little
world of what’s been tagged and named you ignore
all that’s unspoken and unconquerable
the realms that you must enter but cannot
name — you do not need to disrobe for me
to treat your affected areas — rot
hides in more places than just bones — dream tea
sedation, the hemlock cure, I will go
into the shadow realm for you, consult
that which protects you, that which is causing
you ill — cures might be nameless but I know
they’re still there, like germs even when the culte
des hommes declared that there was no such thing.
][][
notes:
“Through the late Middle Ages [in Europe], the use of Latin, like the persecution of midwives as witches, became just one more safe-guard guaranteeing a strict hierarchy … with what would become, and still is, the modern male doctor at the top.”
— Chinarski, Harold. (1994). “Quand les femmes étaient sages: la chasse aux sorcières et de la hausse du médecin de sexe masculin moderne.” Journal calais d’Histoire de la Médecine 83 (1): 188–195.
“It’s commonly [known that] the midwife is meddlesome and has her [hand] in everything. That is why she busies herself so much with the art of witchcraft and superstitions and [moves] hither and thither, speaking of things no man can name.”
—Fragmented sermon by Martin Luther, translated and quoted in Diane Muliebris’ “Luther Und der weibliche Teufel,” first published in Marni Siskin and Brígida Rita Rocha (eds.), Gendercide: die Geschichte der europäischen Krieg auf Frauen. (Zenski Mudrost, ltd., Belgrade 1969), pp. 112-113.
the taste of deadweight on your tongue
24 Tuesday Dec 2013
Tags
consume me, eat me, flay me, poem, Poetry, sonnet, the taste of deadweight on your tongue, your fear, your marrow
take it for it makes me appreciate
all that I’ve earned all that has been taken
from me, needled, punctured, lick the deadweight
dripping from my fingers a valve broken
cannot stop steadfast with the oyster knife
in one hand I want to be filleted raw
fed to you a piece at a time taste strife
and shit at each bite, sup me down and gnaw
the bones you’ve cut me deeper than the groove
from a Swiss-made blade, you must drain my skull’s
juice, you must flay me, because you must know
that I earned all of this, because once you’ve
consumed me you will find my initials
etched in your fear, in your deepest marrow
nerdy and curvy
23 Monday Dec 2013
Was it the “jinkies”? Maybe the glasses?
The knee-high socks? The skirt that never once
flipped up despite all the haunted houses
that she explored? There was an innocence
each time she ended up on hands and knees,
searching for her glasses and the campy,
rubber monster would appear. She would squeeze
its hand: “Shaggy! you’re so cold and clammy!”
Velma Dinkley, out of all the sublime
cartoon girls, was the one I could relate
to. Short, plump, maybe bi with dreadful eyes,
she was nerdy and curvy at a time
when no one was; with her orange jailbait
turtleneck, Mary Janes and chubby thighs.
everybody knows that the
23 Monday Dec 2013
Tags
barbaric yawps, bible-thumpers, everybody knows, irony, perverts, poem, Poetry, sonnet
bigger the pervert the more tyrannous
are their gods keeping tempting blasphemes
at bay there’s not a single monstrous
bible-thumper whose erotic day-dreams
if they were known could set the skies on fire
with shock and horror that’s just how boring
they are I’ve no problem with desire
our two tongues delicately slithering
gagging down your syrupy sex eager
barbaric yawps until at last you squirt
over me pity the so-called faithful
who have no faith in themselves or pleasure
who must take these divine gifts and pervert
them no wonder their god is so wrathful
spectral saliva on my lips
22 Sunday Dec 2013
Posted in Illustration and art, Poetry
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Tags
a girl with her katana, art, bleed lover, poem, spectral saliva on my lips, straw hats and dickies
][][
I love you better than
that girl and her orphan
boy at the railing
of the paddle boat, steam
and straw hats and dickies
a shower of rice push
through my skin thin fabric
you pull out in the places
and plumb the drifts
down the coast I bend
down the blade where
you whispered is so sharp
it burns my neck skin on
my body all upset Saul
spectral saliva on my lips
gasping I kiss your open
blood bliss you’ve
just gone numb
zora neale huston
20 Friday Dec 2013
Posted in Feminism, Illustration and art
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(January 7, 1891 – January 28, 1960) was an American folklorist, anthropologist, author, working during the time of the Harlem Renaissance. Of Hurston’s four novels and more than 50 published short stories, plays, and essays, she is perhaps best known for her 1937 novel Their Eyes Were Watching God.
Despite her skill and talent she did not receive the sort of fame and support other male members of the Harlem Renaissance. This was due to many factors. Readers at the time objected to the representation of African-American dialect in her novels, claiming it as a caricature of African-American culture rooted in a racist tradition. Critics such as Richard Wright and Ralph Ellison charged that her work wasn’t “political and as a result there are no theme, no message, no thought [in Hurston’s work].” Hurston last years were marked with extreme poverty, working as a maid and finally dying homeless.
Many years after her death an article, “In Search of Zora Neale Hurston,” by Alice Walker, revived interest in her work. Other authors such as Toni Morrison and Maya Angelou, championed her work as well. One modern critic has pointed out that “[Wright and Ellison], while interested in that which fit into their narrow view of ‘political’ but were quick to dismiss anything written by a woman, especially a woman who might question their own prejudices and views.” In 2002, scholar Molefi Kete Asante listed Zora Neale Hurston on his list of 100 Greatest African Americans.
daughters of the kaiten: female deep sea divers in art
20 Friday Dec 2013
Posted in Feminism, Illustration and art
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Tags
art, deep sea female divers, Heaven Shaker, Kaiten, my heroes, Ocean Empress, Sarah Bernhardt, 回天
note:
The Kaiten (回天), a Japanese term, loosely translated means, “Heaven Shaker” or “Change the World.” Ultimately it was the term used to describe human-torpedoes and other suicide-craft used by the Imperial Japanese Navy in the final stages of World War II. I use it here because it has a far older meaning that has since been lost, that of doing something so spectacular it changes the heavens and the seas forever.
The images used here are of various experimental deep sea scuba diving suits, though the last is of the 1880 actress Sarah Bernhardt in a diving suit while playing the role of the Ocean Empress (photographer unknown).
memories of my ghost sista 