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memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Tag Archives: art

zora neale huston

20 Friday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Feminism, Illustration and art

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Alice Walker, art, biography, Zora Neale Hurston

Dec 20, 2013 (8)

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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 by babylon crashing in Feminism, Illustration and art

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art, deep sea female divers, Heaven Shaker, Kaiten, my heroes, Ocean Empress, Sarah Bernhardt, 回天

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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).

you, me and margo channing

18 Wednesday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet

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art, cocksucker, poem, Poetry, rust of your tum-tum, sick-smack-junk-cunt, sonnet, writing in Free Verse is like playing tennis without a net

Dec 18, 2013 (3)

It was those thousand years of poetry
before “cocksucker” appeared in print, back

when Free Verse was the bad boy with acne
and brylcreem. When simply writing, “sick,” “smack,”

“junk,” “cunt,” made you historic. Those twee times,
niminy-piminy with dead white dollops

and all that rot. Poems should work like lines
of pure cocaine. If they don’t fuck you up

then its crap. I want verse that you must rinse
in blood to understand, cut all the rust

of your tum to open. Write lines demanding
guts. Yours. Spilled like great art. But I’m crap since

I can’t figure out how to do that just
now you’ll have to settle for this warning.

and a little more of my childhood dies

18 Wednesday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Illustration and art

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a little bit of my childhood just died, art, artist unknown, Calvin and Hobbes, Christopher Robins and Winnie the Pooh, sob

Dec 18, 2013 (1)

Dec 18, 2013 (2)

“don’t worry, we did just fine …”

ah, grief. this is my teddy bear. he’s 43 years-old, given to my by my uncle on the day of my birth. i’m sharing him with you because we all have something that we love and keep secret from everyone else. i don’t even know who is reading this but, please, when my time comes as it does for everyone please make sure he’s buried with me. i do not want to spend eternity without at least one friend by my side.

edge of my skin [2]

18 Wednesday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet

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art, barrow wraith, edge of my skin, grave-fresh thighs, Japanese Shinto priestess, miko, orgasm, poem, Poetry, sonnet, why faith destroys

Dec 17, 2013 (4)

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I still remember your touch, after all
of this time every time I close my eyes

I go back again to that night; the small
softness of your fingers, all those dumb lies

I said to keep you as you grazed my skin
with your lips as our tongues touched. How could I

have kept you safe from my zealots? Cretin
you should have called me, not lover. Defy

us, we who burn witches and call it truth.
We who preach hate and call it love. Wake, wake,

love, in this aftermath, although entwined
around you, our Eden ends. Faith, like youth,

knows all. How can I claim that my heart breaks
when I let — when I’m a child, vain and blind?

edge of my skin

18 Wednesday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet

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art, barrow wraith, edge of my skin, grave-fresh thighs, Japanese Shinto priestess, miko, orgasm, poem, Poetry, sonnet

Dec 17, 2013 (5)

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Remembering that night makes desire
shake once again. I play it over in

my mind — the thrill of memory sets fire
to my nerves — I’m on the edge of my skin

aching to be set free with your mouth, hand,
tongue all that makes me feel that we did this

before, we’ll do this again. I expand
down your throat. When you part your grave-fresh thighs

I kiss all that I can find. Science still
can’t teach us if orgasms aren’t or are

human sublimity that we call faith.
I know that you came through the door to kill

me, I know that I love you: thief, bizarre
ghost girl, libido, love, barrow wraith.

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.

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.

Image

6 eyes

09 Monday Dec 2013

Tags

6 eyes, art, hairy brow, selfie

Dec 09, 2013 (4)

Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Illustration and art

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ars poetica: the blogs a-b

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ars poetica: the blogs i-l

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