30 Saturday Mar 2013
Posted in .gif, Feminism, Illustration and art
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Whether or not Guinevere from the legends of King Arthur painted herself in blue ink just before running screaming into battle is not important. It just looked brilliant when I watched it, so I am sharing it with you. It’s never good to upset the Picts.
30 Saturday Mar 2013
Tags
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The sister-brother duo of little Haiku and big, clumsy JR, plus my elderly lady, Ma Cat, who will try to make a nest out of anything she can find. It’s good to have family.
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Illustration and art, photograph, self-portrait
28 Thursday Mar 2013
Posted in Humor, Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet
Tags
Bonnie and Clyde, Buddha, Buddha save me from your followers, crime is bliss, greed is god, Humor, Jekyll and Hyde, mantra, sonnet, swag, You cannot commit the crime until you have become the crime itself
“You cannot commit the crime until you have become the crime itself” — The Buddha
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Crime is bliss. What do you need? Whatever
it is it is gone. The night kissed me, said,
“go and look for it.” But why would horror
want to be reclaimed? You were not misled
when they said life sucks. It does. Like people
who call themselves Buddhists — already they’re
doing it all wrong. I lost my Jekyll
(or was it my Hyde?) my thrill, my nightmare,
all that I could carry in a spare bag
and say, “hands up!” I don’t hate the Buddha,
just his followers. Take what you need. Greed
is god. Don’t feel too bad. If you need swag
you need swag. “Crime is bliss,” is my mantra,
because, apparently, that’s what I need.
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28 Thursday Mar 2013
Tags
a taste like brine, he called me Jah, homoerotic, merman, rasta in the surf, stone and bone thrill
Up there it’s a bastard: rain, tears, spit, piss.
I’ve had it all. Down here, though, each deep breadth
pleases; the sun is a beacon. There’s bliss
in this pressure per square inch. Crushing depth,
they call it. All the sky is full of blue
ripples. There are two-legged boys I know, shy
when they first meet mother. What’s that haiku?
“Mother I never knew,/ every time I
see the ocean/ every time.” Yes. Indeed.
Go down, love, I tell them. They taste like brine.
How odd that things made of bone and stone thrill.
I had a lover who called me “Jah;” smoked weed
floating on the surface. I took what’s mine
“I love you,” he said, as he kissed each gill.
28 Thursday Mar 2013
I don’t want to be born. I want to be
made-up from a world of cryptic but bad
grammar. Make me bionic and hungry
for spare parts. Ink pens for lips, a keypad
smile. Where I walk loose change shall fall. I err,
for I struggle with my opposable
thumbs every day. It is in my nature
not to have any Nature in me. “Null”
is a good word. So is “methyl,” “sour”
and “carbon-based life-form.” Shall I compare
myself to a sodden day? I am damp
as a void. I mean, it takes an odd hour
to fill the wet gap in me. Err or err,
either way I’m as blank as a headlamp.
26 Tuesday Mar 2013
I went into the backyard and dug two
shallow graves; one for you and one for me.
I sure as hell don’t want to be with you
in a dirt hole for all eternity
if I fuck this up. When I hate something
it gives me focus. I’m a stumblebum.
Focus isn’t my strength. O heart, bleeding
won’t end a thing, but it’s a start. Seldom
do we get new starts. Heart, foolish heart,
you have been cut and pierced, starved and eaten.
You are a sad, little thing when you bleed.
I don’t care about revenge, the sweetheart
who broke me, anyone. Heart, you’re the one
I want dead; the last thing, right now, I need.
25 Monday Mar 2013
The sign said, “I couldn’t hurt you like you
hurt me.” Don’t be so sure. I’m Caliban
cast out among ruins; I never knew
how to curse before you taught me. Shaman
for the dead; that job does me no damn good
now. Who knew I had this violent hunger
in me to see you bleed? I think I could,
I could bleed you, drain you dry, and never
call it a sin … I think I’d like vengeance …
except that would mean bringing you back here.
To this world full of light like the first dawn.
So … no. The dead hate you. You’re a nuisance,
nothing more. Being unloved was your fear.
You weren’t, once, but now all that love is gone.
25 Monday Mar 2013
Posted in .gif, Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet
Tags
I’ve been called many things, but a “disgrace
to the forces of evil” made me stare
dumbly at her. I had helped her unlace
her bone corset, let down her crow-black hair,
bled the man, let her drink from the chalice.
What did she want? Her skin, with its green-fire
glow of a witch-queen, burned with her tigress
eyes, her four breasts. It wasn’t desire
I felt for my sister … much. After all,
evil is as evil does (I never
got that); she kept me around, her warm pet
good for snuggling with on cold nights. “Crawl
to me and make me cum, little brother.
I’ll drown you, fool. Amuse me. Make me wet.”
25 Monday Mar 2013
Tags
from her movie VAMP (1986)
hat by Philip Treacy
Grace in her Vampire Hat for the Q music awards (2008)
@ Hammmersmith Ballroom, NYC
The Divine Almond Jones: Grace Jones photographed by Antonio Lopez (1976)
Grace Jones and Boy George (photographer unknown)
There aren’t very many people I’d fling myself in front of a flying bullet for, Grace Jones will always be my top 5 list.
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Erotic, Illustration and art
22 Friday Mar 2013
Map detailing the names and location of Armenian Resettlement Camps in Deir ez-Zor province, dated December 1916. Image found in the OTTOMAN ARCHIVES (from the ORIENTAL COLLECTION at the Bulgarian National Library, November 22, 2009)
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Armenia, drama, Illustration and art
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