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Lalleshwari: clad only in sky

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These are two translations of the same poem:


Dance, Lalla, with nothing on

but air. Sing, Lalla,

wearing the sky.


Look at this glowing day! What clothes

could be so beautiful, or

more sacred?   

Barks, Coleman. Naked Song. Lalla. Athens, GA: Maypop, (1992)

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Dance then, Lalla, clothed but by the
air;

Sing, thou, Lalla, clad but in the sky.

Air and sky: what garment is more fair?


Dance then Lalla, clothed by the air;

Sing then Lalla, clad but by the sky.

Air and sky; what garmant is more fair?

‘Cloth’, saith custom; ’ doth that
sanctify?’

Temple, Sir Richard Carnac. The
words of Lalla, The Prophetess: Being the sayings of Lal Ded or Lal
Diddhi of Kashmir
. Cambridge University Press (1924)

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Lalleshwari (1320–1392) was a female mystic of the Kashmiri Shaivite sect. She was a creator of the mystic poetry called vatsun or Vakhs, literally “divine speech.”  As a child she was married at the age of 12 into a family that was reported to have regularly mistreated her. After becoming a disciple of Sidh Srikanth, she renounced her material life and marriage to become a devotee of the god Shiva. As a mystic, she wandered naked, reciting her proverbs and quatrain-based poems. Her verses are the earliest compositions in the Kashmiri language and are an important part in history of Kashmiri literature.

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the kingdom that wind scorns

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afterlife in polaroids

I.

There’s a pink motel 

somewhere for me. I 

can’t wait to go haunt 

it.  When I’m dead. I will 

be. Giant pink
eerie lips 

that make soft num-

num sounds.  It
is said 

a pound of flesh will get 

you a lot
less than it did

in your parent’s day.  

II.

I’ve
read there is no kissing in hell. 

III.

It’s a shame lips 

don’t survive. Bones 

become the playhouse 

of ghosts; after 

scavengers discard 

them, worms
bask 

in them, a kingdom 

that the wind scorns.

IV.

What if it all came down 

to this?
subdued spots 

where I could paint your 

toes?  A calm sink to
spit 

into?  Our bodies behind 

closed pink doors.
Crude 

motel shadows at bath. 

Relaxed and wild with
it 

we start, we end our days 

as a mirror image.

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Salome dances her dance of the seven veils,
The men all eye her like wolves on the hunt, this beautiful girl
finally undressing for them. Finally they can see her
exactly as they want to.
The first veil drops.

In 2007, Kim Kardashian’s ex-boyfriend
released their sex tape against her will.
Kim Kardashian, rather than hide in shame
Used the publicity to promote her own career.
Salome moves like a dream half-remembered.
Salome dances like a siren song. All the men ache
to see the hot sugar of her hip bones.
The second veil drops.
In 2014, Kim Kardashian walks down the aisle
As the whole world watches. If only all of us
were so successful in our revenge.
If only all of us stood in our Louboutin heels
on the backs of the men who betray us,
surveying the world we created for ourselves.

The third veil drops.

Kim Kardashian knows exactly what you think of her.
She presses the cloth tighter against her skin
Her smile is a promise she never intends to keep

We can almost see all of her.
Salome shows us her body
but never her eyes.
The fourth veil is dropping.
The four things most recently tweeted at Kim Kardashian were
@KimKardashian Suck My Dick
@Kim Kardashian Can I Meet Kanye?
@KimKardashian Please Fuck Me
@KimKardashian I Love You. I Love You.

Women are told to keep their legs shut.
Women are told to keep their mouths shut.
Some women are kept silent for so long,
They become experts in the silent theft of power.
The fifth veil has dropped.
Kim Kardashian made $12 million dollars this year
Yesterday, uncountable men in their miserable jobs,
told their miserable friends that Kim was a “dumb whore”
Kim Kardashian will never learn their names.

Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)

seen on rebloggy.com/kim kardashian

(via oduor-oduku)

O hell yes! There is very little
positive representation of Armenian women on the web and in the
media. If you scratch the surface, up and beyond historic poets and
artists, you will read about the ones we’ve lost, like Zaruhi Petrosyan, silenced
through domestic violence; and yet Armenian feminism and LGBT rights are alive and well in Yerevan and Gyumri. 

Always these are who I call
heroes.