• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Author Archives: babylon crashing

13 Tuesday May 2025

Posted by babylon crashing in Chinese, drama, Translation

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act i scene ii, Blood Bodhisattva, 血菩萨, retelling, Titus Andronicus, wuxia

This is the second scene of my wuxia retelling of Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus. In the source material Titus returns home after years of war, bring with him all the bodies of his fallen soldiers (he refers to them as his, “sons;” some folks have taken this literally, which would mean Titus had somehow fathered hundreds and hundreds of boys in his free time, since the crypt is nearly full after decades at war). With him in chains is the defeated Goth Queen, Tamora, along with her three sons (Demetrius, Chiron and Alarbus), as well as Tamora’s lover, Aaron the Moor (and yes, Aaron is a highly problematic character … which is a polite way of saying racist as fuck). In order to appease the dead, Titus has Alarbus butchered as a sacrifice. We are also introduced to Lavinia, Titus’ daughter.

Because this version is wuxia and has most of the genders flipped, instead of slicing and dicing Hēi Dú, General Tiān Mǔ orders her oldest daughter, Tiě Yīng, to shatter Hēi Dú’s meridians, leaving her as a living corpse entombed with the glorious dead.

ACT I · SCENE II.

[剑冢森森,魂灯荧荧]
[A forest of grave-swords; ghost-lanterns flicker blue.]

[祖剑堂 · 地宫]
[Ancestral Sword Hall · Underground Crypt.]

[战鼓渐歇,丧钟低鸣。地宫穹顶垂百剑,剑柄为碑。二十石台空置,待天母众女。青烟如蛇,盘绕尸骨未寒之刃。]

[War drums fade into funeral gongs. A cavern lit by yin-blue lanterns, its walls studded with hundreds of upright swords, each a warrior’s grave-marker. Twenty empty stone plinths await Tiān Mǔ’s fallen soldiers. Incense coils like serpents around blade-cooling flesh.]

[铁链声响。铁链与铁翎押阵,铁山刀卫捧灵位与佩剑次入,后随铁英、铁血。天母戎装未卸,甲上犹带草原尘沙。大狼与其女[灰毒、蓝毒、黑毒]棘链缚身。末入巴悉拉,景教十字暗芒浮动。]
[Chains clank. Tiě Lián and Tiě Líng lead the procession, followed by Iron Mountain Blades bearing spirit tablets and sheathed swords. Tiě Yīng and Tiě Xuè enter next, then Tiān Mǔ, her armor still crusted with steppe dirt. Behind them, Dà Láng and her daughters (Huī Dú, Lán Dú and Hēi Dú)
shuffle in manacles. Last comes Bǎ Xī Lā, his Nestorian cross glinting like a hidden knife.]

[众人迫大狼一族跪于五眼蟾蜍铜魂炉前。]
[The prisoners are forced to kneel before a bronze soul-brazier shaped like a five-eyed toad.]

天母 / TIĀN MǓ.

[举碎玉令,诵咒如刃。]
[Raising her broken Jade Seal, chanting like a whetstone on steel.]

“玄女兵主——“
“Xuánnǚ, Dark Mother of War—”

“开黄泉之扉。“
“Open the Yellow Springs’ gate.”

[抚剑墙,声裂金石。]
[Her palm scrapes along blade-embedded walls, voice splitting metal and stone.]

天母 / TIĀN MǓ [cont.]

“吾女今与鬼同行。“
“My daughters walk with ghosts now.”

“以刃镇幽冥。“
“Let their swords guard the underworld’s edge.”

[铁山刀卫置灵位于石台,朱砂名讳如血。无棺椁,以剑代尸。]
[The Iron Mountain Blades place spirit tablets upon the plinths, each name inscribed in cinnabar. No coffins; the dead are honored as ancestral swords, not corpses.]

天母 / TIĀN MǓ [续]
[
抚空台,甲缝渗沙。]
[Her armored fingers brush an empty plinth, steppe-dust sifting from the joints.]

“祖剑冢啊…“
“O sacred crypt …”

“汝怀吾欢,亦纳吾悲。“
“You who cradle my joy and grief alike.”

“为何贪噬无厌?“
“Why must you feast so ravenously?”

铁英 / TIĚ YĪNG.

[执刃穿魂幡,幡动如濒死之息。]
[A dagger-pierced soul-banner trembles in her grip like a death rattle.]

“母亲,赐一囚破丹田。“
“Mother, grant us a prisoner to shatter.”

“以炁饲亡魂。“
“Let her qi feed the dead.”

“化其息为香。“
“Let her breath become their incense.”

天母 / TIĀN MǓ.

[戟指灰毒,甲上反光如狼瞳。]
[Her gauntlet points to Huī Dú, armor-scratches glint like wolf-eyes.]

“取可汗长女。“
“Then take the Khagan’s eldest.”

“草原狼种,正合燃薪。“
“a steppe-wolf’s whelp, fit kindling.”

大狼 / DÀ LÁNG.

[锁链暴起,棘刺入肉。]
[Chains rattle as manacles bite deeper into flesh.]

“这也配称‘道’?“
“You call this Taoism?!”

“分明是屠场!“
“This is butchery!”

[唾血]
[Spits blood.]

“玉皇必降天罚——“
“The Jade Empress will curse your—”

天母 / TIĀN MǓ

[抬手如闸,声寒于铁。]
[A raised hand silences like decapitation.]

“天道不悯豺狼。“
“The Tao has no mercy for wolves.”

“汝女之息,当饲吾殇。“
“Your daughter’s breath will feed my dead.”

铁英 / TIĚ YĪNG.

[并指为鹤喙,点向灰毒后腰。]
[Fingers coiled like a crane’s beak, pressing to Huī Dú’s spine.]

“道予炁,道夺炁。“
“The Tao gives qi. The Tao takes it.”

[三击如钟。]
[Three strikes toll like a funeral bell.]

铁英 / TIĚ YĪNG [cont.]

“命门。” [Mìngmén.]

[闷响,灰毒气息骤滞。]
[A dull thud—Huī Dú’s breath seizes.]

铁英 / TIĚ YĪNG [cont.]

“脊中。” [Jǐzhōng.]

[玉裂之声,肌骨僵锁。]
[A crack like splitting jade, her body locks rigid.]

铁英 / TIĚ YĪNG [cont.]

“大椎。” [Dàzhùi.]

[折骨脆响,银炁自七窍喷涌,旋入魂炉。]
[A final snap, silver qi erupts from her pores, swirling into the brazier.]

[炁凝‘仇’字,瞬散。铁山刀卫置灰毒于碑前,形存神灭,永跪为鬼奴。]
[The qi forms the character 仇 《vengeance》 before dissolving. Huī Dú’s hollowed body is propped before the plinths; a living ghost forced to kneel eternally.]

天佑 / TIĀN YÒU.

[三叩入殿,额抵冷石。]
[Entering with three kowtows, forehead pressed to stone.]

“母亲…“
“Mother…”

[捧纸马,声颤。]
[Clutching paper effigies, voice trembling.]

天佑 / TIĀN YÒU [cont.]

“儿带冥驹,助姊远行。“
“I bring paper horses for their journey.”

[天佑一边吟诵诗歌,一边焚烧人像。]

[Tiān Yòu begins burning the effigies while reciting poetry.]

天佑 / TIĀN YÒU [cont.]

“双蛇缠…” [Two snakes entwined …]

[纸灰突燃碧火。]

[The ashes flare emerald.]

天佑 / TIĀN YÒU [cont.]

“无首尾 …” [Neither head nor tail …]

[焚纸,灰烬化鹤形——白思之徽。]
[The ashes twist into a crane—Bái Sī’s crest.]

天佑 / TIĀN YÒU [cont.]

“唯饥无宴。” [Only hunger without feast.]

[魂炉中五眼骤睁。]

[The toad-brazier’s eyes snap open.]

[天佑退后,诗成谶言。]
[Tiān Yòu staggers back, the poem now a curse spoken out loud.]

天母 / TIĀN MǓ.

[捧子面,甲锈沾颊。]
[Cupping his face, her gauntlet leaves dried blood like tear-stains.]

“吾儿…“
“My son…”

“男儿总被讥弱。“
“The world calls boys weak.”

“然你乃吾德所铸之身。“
“But you are my virtue made flesh.”

[低语切齿。]
[A whisper like grinding steel.]

天母 / TIĀN MǓ [cont.]

“活得比我久。“
“Outlive me.”

[按剑柄,刃吟如泣。]
[Her palm on a sword-hilt, the blade hums a mourner’s tune.]

天母 / TIĀN MǓ [cont.]

“安息吧,吾刃。“
“Rest, my blades.”

“未斩之恨,生者必断。“
“The living will cut what you could not.”

[所有人都退场。]

[Everyone exits.]

[门阖。终余:灰毒游丝之息,与万剑饥鸣。]
[The doors seal. Last sounds: Huī Dú’s shallow breath in the dark and the swords’ hungry humming.]

֍

Notes.

Unlike Aaron the Moor, whose presence in the play is never really explained (except for being Tamora’s baby daddy) Bǎ Xī Lā (the name he adopted since arriving in China), is in fact European, a Nestorian Christian missionary, with a demonic apatite for destruction (thank you, Guns and Roses). Other terms that need to be explained are:

Tiān Mǔ refers to her soldiers as, Iron Mountain Blades (for no other reason than I thought it sounded interesting). In traditional Chinese medicine, meridians are invisible pathways in the body through which vital energy circulates. This energy is called Qi (气) an energy field … created by all living things; it surrounds us and penetrates us and binds the galaxy together. If that sounds a bit Star Wars-ish now you know where Lucas stole his idea from, you’re welcome. Paper horses (纸马) were burned to transport the souls of the deceased to the afterlife.

The only part that gave me pause was trying to come up with a description of how meridians would be cut or severed, since in the wuxia kung fu movies I’ve seen someone declares that they’re using, “the Quivering Palm” (or something) and a glowing CGI cloud then leaves the body. Personally, I am very fond of the description used in Airplane! (1980):

“It starts with a slight fever and dryness of the throat. When the virus penetrates the red blood cells, the victim becomes dizzy, begins to experience an itchy rash, then the poison goes to work on the central nervous system, severe muscle spasms followed by the inevitable drooling. At this point, the entire digestive system collapses accompanied by uncontrollable flatulence until, finally, the poor bastard is reduced to a quivering wasted piece of jelly.”

… but I suppose there are better descriptions out there, somewhere.

Q: what is a splendid poem you wrote in a non-english language?

12 Monday May 2025

Posted by babylon crashing in Chinese, drama, Script, Translation

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act i scene ii, Blood Bodhisattva, 血菩萨, retelling, Titus Andronicus, translation, wuxia

It’s not a poem, per se, but let me share the first scene in my wuxia retelling of Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus. For those unfamiliar with the term, wuxia is a Chinese genre of literature that features martial arts, valiance, action and often elements of the supernatural. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000), for example, is wuxia.

As for the source material, Titus Andronicus starts off with two brothers, Saturninus and Bassianus, along with their followers, competing to see who will rule Rome. Right before a riot begins Titus’ brother, Marcus, arrives and announces that Titus, an ancient but highly respected general, is returning from war and will choose which brother will be made emperor. For my retelling all the genders are reversed. Bái Sī [白丝, White Silk] and Sàtǔn [萨吞, Steel-Swallower] are sisters. Tiě Gū [铁姑, Iron Aunt] is the sister to General Tiān Mǔ [天母, Heavenly Mother].

My skills at translating Chinese have much to be desired, so any errors here are entirely my own.

《血菩萨。》第一幕·第一场
“Blood Bodhisattva.” Act I 一 Scene I

《血染玉阶,凤泣残阳。》
[Blood stains the jade steps, a phoenix weeps for the dying sun.]

[玉门国·千剑宫外。]
[Yumen Kingdom · Outside the Thousand Swords Palace。]

[战鼓裂云,幕启时,白思与萨囤对峙宫阶之上。铁牛、天鹤两派弟子于阶下血战。宫门处,礼官肃立,御史执笔,锦衣卫刀出半鞘,静若石雕。]
[War drums tear at the clouds as the curtain rises, Bái Sī and Sàtūn stand frozen on the palace steps. Below, their Iron Ox and Heavenly Crane disciples wage war. At the gates, Lǐguān stand rigid, Yùshǐ clutch ink-brushes and Jinyiwei guards rest hands on half-drawn blades, silent as carved sentinels.]

萨囤 / SÀTŪN.

[斩马刀啸空而过,尘暴如龙卷起。]

[Her Zhanmadao screams through air, whipping up a dust-whirlwind.]

“铁牛门下!”

“Sons and daughters of the Iron Ox!”

“朕即凤诏,天命在刃!”

“I am the Phoenix’s living edict, the Mandate burns in my steel!”

“和我一起站起来,铸就历史的栋梁!”

“Stand with me and be forged into history’s pillars!”

“叛龙者 …”

“Betray me …”

[刀光一闪,宫灯齐灭。]

[A blade-flash—every palace lantern gutters out.]

萨囤 / SÀTŪN [cont.]

“… 九族诛尽,宫门悬颅!”

“… and I’ll hang your bloodline’s skulls from the palace gates!”

白思 / BÁI SĪ.

[双针剑作鹤翼式,冷笑。]

[Needle-swords flash into crane-wing stance, her sneer colder than moonlight.]

“天命?” [冷笑。]

“The Mandate?” [Laugh like cracking ice.]

“弑亲之血,也配称凤?”

“Can a kinslayer’s hands still clutch the Phoenix’s crown?”

“天鹤展翅!”

“Heavenly Crane spreads its wings!”

[她的剑刃颤抖,如同挥舞的羽翼——鹤的优雅中夹杂着蝎子的毒液。她的阵营中回荡着鹤鸣齐鸣,如同丝绸撕裂剑刃的声音。]

[Her blades shiver like pinions at mid-strike—the crane’s grace laced with scorpion’s venom. Her faction echoes with choral crane-cries, a sound like silk tearing on sword-edges.]

白思 / BÁI SĪ [cont.]

“重器非在冠冕,而在德行。”

“True power lies not in crowns, but in virtue.”

“尔自比狂风?不过瘈狗吠日!”

“You call yourself a storm? A rabid dog barking at heaven!”

[她的战士们的呐喊声响彻云霄——铁牛队伍摇摇晃晃,阵型散乱。]

[Her warriors’ cries pierce the air—the Iron Ox ranks stagger, their formation fraying.]

铁姑 / TIĚ GŪ.

[持碧玉令,九节鞭缠腰。满场肃杀。]
[Enters with the Jade Scepter, her 9-section whip coiled around her hips. The air thickens, sharp as a guillotine’s edge.]

“骨肉相残之座,未雪先倾。”
“The throne built on sister-blood collapses before winter’s first snow can hide its sins.”

“今奉碎玉令,迎天母将军班师 …”
“By the Broken Jade Seal, I declare General Tiān Mǔ regent …”

“五毒教之役,当终今日。”
“Her war against the Five Poisons Sect ends now.”

“散!”
“Disperse!”

“… 否则御史以刻石指铭罪,鬼神同泣!”
“… or the Yùshǐ’s Stone-Carving Finger will engrave your crimes so deep, even gods and ghosts will wail!”

[御史的一击落地——指尖击碎了大理石地板,裂开了蜘蛛网,如同下了判决书一般。]

[The Yùshǐ’s strike lands—fingertips shatter the marble floor, cracks spider-webbing like a verdict.]

萨囤 / SÀTŪN.

[见玉阶旁书生所留的砚台,冷笑。]

[Spots an inkstone left by a fleeing scholar, her lips curl.]

[脚踢翻,墨泼阶如血。]

[Her boot flips it, black ink gushes down the steps like a slit throat.]

“刻啊!”

“Carve this!”

“让后世记得 …”

“Let history remember …”

[锦衣卫刀光映墨,凤鸣凄厉。]

[Jinyiwei blades gleam with reflected ink, their phoenix-cry a funeral dirge.]

[白思的鹤簪坠地,羽尖沾墨。]

[Bái Sī’s crane-hairpin clatters to the floor, its feather-tip staining black.]

萨囤 / SÀTŪN [cont.]

“… 铁牛将军之妹执印却不敢执刃!”

“… the Iron General’s sister clutches seals, but flees from steel!”

铁姑 / TIĚ GŪ.

[举令,寒声。]

[Raising the Jade Order, her voice colder than a tomb’s breath.]

“刻石遗臭,万古流秽。”

“Let stone etch your reek, let ten thousand generations gag on your name.”

[玉阶震颤,如畏其言。]

[The jade steps tremble, as if fearing her decree.]

铁姑 / TIĚ GŪ [cont.]

“母皇遗诏刻于玉,非书于血。”

“The Empress’ will was carved in jade, not scribbled in traitors’ blood.”

[锦衣卫刀锋低鸣,似凤泣先帝。]

[Jinyiwei blades hum, a phoenix weeping for the dead sovereign.]

白思 / BÁI SĪ.

[凝视没羽,墨渍如泪,轻叹后扬声道。]
[Gazes at the drowned feather, ink seeping like tears, then her voice lifts, clear and cold.]

“血缘始,血缘终。”
“By blood it began, by blood it ends.”

[向铁姑鞠躬,腰如竹折而不断。]
[She bows to Tiě Gū, back bent like bamboo, unbroken.]

白思 / BÁI SĪ [cont.]

“我臣服 …”
“I yield …”

“… 非顺汝刃,乃顺天佑。”
“… not to your blade, but to Heaven’s decree.”

[白袍众退如雪崩,寂然无声。]
[Her disciples retreat like an avalanche in reverse, soundless, deliberate.]

白思 / BÁI SĪ [cont.]

“愿鹤唳引慈母之手。”
“May the crane’s cry guide my Mother’s hand.”

[最后一句如刃悬喉。]
[The words hang—a knife at the world’s throat.]

白思 / BÁI SĪ [cont.]

“雪退散…”
“The snow withdraws…”

[… 然寒入骨,千年不化。]
“…but frost lingers in the bones and will not thaw for a thousand years.”

萨囤 / SÀTŪN.

[握刀下令,目光灼灼。]

[Her Zhanmadao gleams, a verdict half-unsheathed. Her gaze burns hotter than the desert wind.]

“名铸剑出,不悔不归。”

“My name is forged in steel, my blade thirsts without remorse.”

[铁牛派虽退,手不离刀。]

[The Iron Ox faction withdraws, but every finger still curls around cold steel.]

萨囤 / SÀTŪN [cont.]

“让玉门断壁 …”

“Let the ruins of the Jade Gate …”

[刀锋划地,裂石如骨碎。]

[Her saber splits the earth, stone shatters like a spine.]

萨囤 / SÀTŪN [cont.]

“… 判谁凤血承天!”

“… decide whose veins bear the Phoenix’s truth!”

[众人退时,守卫扬玉尘,五行阵成而即散,如凤涅磐。]

[As factions retreat, guards raise jade-ash, the Wuxing symbols form then dissolves like a phoenix’s rebirth from the ash.]

[幕落时,唯余:]

[The curtains close on:]

萨囤的刀 [Sàtūn’s blade]

插在玉阶 [embedded in jade steps]

白思的羽 [Bái Sī’s feather]

飘向冷月 [drifting toward the icy moon]

铁姑的鞭 [Tiě Gū’s whip]

缠着半截断诏 [coiled around a torn edict]

上书: [which reads:]

“朕死之年…”

“The year I die…”

“…血菩萨现。”

“…the Blood Bodhisattva comes.”

֍

Notes:

Wuxia (pronounced: “woo-syah”) is known for its melodrama and camp, breathtaking swordplay and high-flying martial arts (literally, the actors defy gravity via Wire Fu, as seen in The Matrix). Here are some terms that I need to explain:

Lǐguān, Yùshǐ and Jinyiwei are different sorts of Imperial court officials. Wuxing, often translated as the Five Phases (see diagram below), is a conceptual scheme used in many Chinese fields of study to explain a wide array of phenomena, such as characterizing the interactions and relationships within various sciences, medicines, politics and religions. Whereas an Emperor was compared to a dragon, an Empress (especially Wu Zetian) was compared to a phoenix. A Zhanmadao or “Horse-chopping blade” was a large sword popular during the Song dynasty. Being ignorant in many things I chose to set the play in a mythical ancient China, to avoid that whole “historically accurate” razzamatazz.

plum

26 Saturday Apr 2025

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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erotic poetry, fox-plump, plumeria, poem, Poetry, Romans trumpet, shadow's yin, sonnet, spilled ink

The rain made ghosts all down their shirts that clung.

Sugimoto’s tongue. Nakano’s crop beats

time, too. “Again,” iced through the downpour’s lung-

drowning hoar. “Again.” As Aoki bleats

beneath the lieutenant’s hands— Nakano’s

thumb draws circles where before none lingered

“Ai, but teaching what, strumpet?” Pearl-butt knows

what, could not say— Recruits held their hunkered

breath, now watching their Captain, now watching

this plum ballet. The way the lieutenant’s

lips brushed Aoki’s neck. From: “Shadow’s Yin —

shattered cum cup, plum offered, blood booking.”

From: wet shirts. Downpour. Sodomitic trance.

Crop beats. Teaching what, strumpet? Yes. “Again.”

plight

26 Saturday Apr 2025

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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chaff and cyst mist, erotic poetry, pearl butt, plight, poem, Poetry, sonnet, touch betrays what lips deny

Gun oil mixed with salt on Nakano’s skin.

Teeth wrote Sugimoto’s sermon in. “Flesh!

You watched!” The accusation, sharp and thin.

“Of course.” The Captain’s fingers knew the fresh,

wretched truth; touch betrayed what lips denied.

Inside the lieutenant’s loose braids; gaping

ropy, womblight. C-scar from the Pearl’s Bride.

Outside, marched raw rude recruits to morning,

mid-plight; the space between snap and then twist

entire. No spider here, just deeply spun

strands, peach-shellfish swallowing each other

down. O serpentine tryst chaff and cyst mist.

As in rise, flesh! Fresh pretty inch. Wet nun

womblight. Bride’s nattered Pearl-butt, now ruder.

willow

26 Saturday Apr 2025

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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erotic poetry, flat as cold, poem, Poetry, sonnet, spilled ink, twisted sea

Moonlight strips striped her throat where buttons paled,

fluxed and veiled: her Moon Rabbit’s lingerie—

Her glove, Sugimoto’s lips— had prevailed.

Unspooled— Her puckered silk sot on display.

“Discipline, mother!” The lieutenant turned,

fallopian rope with shape. Aoki

burned. Eh? Aoki burned. Aoki burned;

became an altarpiece. Their twisted sea.

Nakano, through ghost breath glass that steamed

with her palms, flat as cold reflection. Mapped

how? Aoki prayed, reeked of sea wolves, still

circling. Twisted sea? Twisted sea? screamed

the piece, altar-wise: her Moon Rabbit rapt—

pussy willow— then whippoorwill’s will.

laluah

19 Saturday Apr 2025

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Aquah Laluah, conversations with imaginary sisters, erotic poetry, Gladys May Casely Hayford, Krio language, poem, Poetry, quote unquote, sonnet

Aquah Laluah wrote about her lover’s

rain soaked breasts, about storms within and storms

without, kissing her dusky throat. Thunder’s

note, she called it, which did more than just warm

her flesh. Auntie I never knew, you wrote

about longing and I keep going back

to the source. I, too, crave. Like Qiu Jin’s quote

about music, yours has been the soundtrack

I’ve been dancing to for years. A teacher

at Freetown’s all-girl school [1920]

Auntie, you drank from Frangepani’s proffered

bowl and called it peace: the first faint glimmer

of light. Tɛnki. I love your long, rainy

season, that storm wet craft that you conjured.

][][

Notes.

Gladys May Casely Hayford (1904-1950), who went by the pen name Aquah Laluah, was a schoolteacher at The Girls Vocational School in Sierra Leone. She is credited as the first poet to write in the Krio language, a regional Creole. Tɛnki is the Krio word for thank you. Like Aquah Laluah, Qiu Jin was also a feminist, lesbian poet who taught at an all-girl’s school in Qing-era China, though Qiu Jin was executed after a failed revolutionary uprising. Four of Aquah Laluah’s poems were collected by Countee Cullen in Caroling Dusk: An Anthology of Verse by Black Poets of the 1920s. The quotes of her that I use come from her poem, Rainy Season Love Song, which I share here in its whole:

Out of the tense awed darkness, my Frangepani comes;

Whilst the blades of Heaven flash round her, and the roll of thunder drums

My young heart leaps and dances, with exquisite joy and pain,

As storms within and storms without I meet my love in the rain.

“The rain is in love with you darling; it’s kissing you everywhere,

Rain pattering over your small brown feet, rain in your curly hair;

Rain in the vale that your twin breasts make, as in delicate mounds they rise,

I hope there is rain in your heart, Frangepani, as rain half fills your eyes.”

Into my hands she cometh, and the lightning of my desire

Flashes and leaps about her, more subtle than Heaven’s fire;

“The lightning’s in love with you darling; it is loving you so much,

That its warm electricity in you pulses wherever I may touch.

When I kiss your lips and your eyes, and your hands like twin flowers apart,

I know there is lightning, Frangepani, deep in the depths of your heart.”

The thunder rumbles about us, and I feel its triumphant note

As your warm arms steal around me; and I kiss your dusky throat;

“The thunder’s in love with you darling. It hides its power in your breast.

And I feel it stealing o’er me as I lie in your arms at rest.

I sometimes wonder, beloved, when I drink from life’s proffered bowl,

Whether there’s thunder hidden in the innermost parts of your soul.”

Out of my arms she stealeth; and I am left alone with the night,

Void of all sounds save peace, the first faint glimmer of light.

Into the quiet, hushed stillness my Frangepani goes.

Is there peace within like the peace without? Only the darkness knows.

pride

15 Tuesday Apr 2025

Posted by babylon crashing in A Girl and Her Submarine, Poetry, sonnet

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dreams of literacy, ocean in motion, poem, Poetry, pride and joy, sea cures all, sonnet

Write about what you know, they say. There’s poverty and poetry and dreaming vast. There’s this crazy world of plenty where resources are constantly getting squandered and misspent. That’s where this poem started …

Dear Spain. You’re trying to sell an old Mistral submarine for scrap. I’m trying to create the first underwater library. I dream of sailing from island to island in the Caribbean, bringing books to those who don’t have them. I don’t have €136,000, and you don’t have a buyer. Perhaps we can make a deal?

…

“Mother I never knew/ Each time I see

the Sea/ Each time,” wrote Issa. I get it.

Tide be runnin’ the great world over. Sea

and me we go back far. Call me poet

of sharks and tides and reading. Let me feed

you books. Let us all dream of libraries.

This could work. This could happen. But I need

help. From Saint Lucia to Buenos Aires,

all those lives hungry for literacy. Books

and a floating library on the quay.

Books to feed us all; this hurricane-size

dreaming. This is what our mother’s pride looks

like. With you. With us. Come, we’ll chart the way

together. Come, we’re all going to rise.

shank

14 Monday Apr 2025

Posted by babylon crashing in Disaster –- Pain –- Sorrow, Poetry, sonnet

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ghosts that bully, ghosts that maul, poem, Poetry, ribcrack, shank, sonnet, splitback lip

Shankbite, ribcrack, splitback lip; waiting

in ER to get stitched up. Ten years old

and thick with scars. Puberty arriving

early. Special Ed being doom, foretold

by the bullies who knew a fag retard

sissy when they saw one. Adults who preyed

on such flesh said I made them wet and hard

and wild. What soul brings a knife to 5th grade

and then uses it? Children have no use

for a God that allows monsters to breed

monsters. It’s like having no God at all.

Childhood of ghosts, of excuse, of abuse,

needle and thread. Let it bleed. Let it bleed.

Let it bleed with ghosts that bully, that maul.

morsels

13 Sunday Apr 2025

Posted by babylon crashing in Armenian, Poetry, sonnet, Translation

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hungry ghosts, morsels, poem, Poetry, sin eater, sonnet, translation, tsavd tanem

Tsavd Tanem. Let me take your pain. As in

I’ll eat it. I’ll vomit it. I’ll transform

it. All that horror spewed. Call me Shaman

of Thieves and Sonnets. Call me a Firestorm

that Heals. If not now then when? If not me

then who? This is what a Hungry Ghost dreams

of. You say that you wail like a banshee

during sex. I say nightmares and daydreams

taste the same. Tsavd Tanem. Hymn that stifles.

Song that bleats. This is what a Hungry Ghost

dreams of; such tasty morsels. Tsavd Tanem.

Tsavd Tanem. Tsavd Tanem. All these, “trifles.”

Love, let me take this from you. You almost

gave up. Call me Cursed; my one pseudonym.

][][

Notes.

In Armenian, Tsavd Tanem (Ցավդ տանեմ) is a colloquially phrase used to express sympathy or affection. I, on the other hand, am taking it literally. In Buddhism, Hungry Ghosts (餓鬼) are spirits who are driven by unquenchable emotional needs, often depicted as tormented by grotesque desires that they are unable to ever fulfill. If that doesn’t sum up my entire life in a nutshell I don’t know what would.

shunter

12 Saturday Apr 2025

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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booty deep, erotic poetry, poem, Poetry, putting the anal in bacchanal, quote unquote, shunter, sonnet, spilled ink

Amor fati, it starts like this: She bop

a loo bop a whop bam boom. Not Tutti

Frutti, but buggery none the less. Flop

sweat. The first inkling of pain. Booty

deep and spread wide. No, you say. O hell no.

But to love what Fate brings requires you to

explore. From the bar through the slush and snow

to bed. Batty fang. Caterwauling. Screw

shunter. Slang … as I pause before the O

of your ass. Hell no. Then, by turns, Rome burns

between your cheeks. Tonight we will transgress.

Call me daddy, stranger, your queerest beau;

bent, we say. Soon wild rapture will return.

Soon you’ll claw my flesh, shuddering: fuck, yes.

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