EACH
of the adjectives
people use to describe
ME
drag the earth,
chained to my spindly ankles.
they mark me.
they make sure that even when I'm present
i don't really belong.
B u r n i n g B u s h
J.T. Roane 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Bedtime Stories in the BQN
Bedtime story BQN style with Papa JT reading this wonderful selection from Alice Walker's The Color Purple:
"She say, I love you, Miss Celie. And then she haul off and kiss me on the mouth.
Um, she say, like she surprise. I kiss her back, say, um, too. Us kiss and kiss till us can’t hardly kiss no more. Then us touch each other.
I don’t know nothing bout it, I say to Shug.
I don’t know much, she say.
Then I feels something real soft and wet on my breast, feel like one of my little lost babies mouth.
Way after while, I act like a little lost baby too," (pg. 113).
Friday, February 25, 2011
Jimmy Got Fingered
Baldwin wouldn’t fuck me even if we were the last two faggots
left on earth. Jimmy liked the Giovannis, John Gallianos, or
maybe an Oscar Wilde. Me, I would take a Marc Jacobs (if the
opportunity came knocking). I don’t even know if pristine cocks
like that are into Black Boys. Queers need an alternative
society. Two men fucking each other will always be an
absurdity. Unless you’re a cunt licking lesbian. Dykes get play
too. Nietzsche knows what I’m talking about. I suck therefore
he comes. Eureka! Freud needs to liberate Foucault. Proust was
on some other shit. Steers, Queers, Fems, Trans, AGs, and
everybody on the DL wants to fall in love. lol!!! Really, gay
people getting married? That shit is hella hetero. Quakers are
my Friends. Those my mutha fuckin niggas….they, get it. Atomic
bombs are uncut. So is Dali. Now Egypt has a revolver. Jamaica
never got their revolution. Tulsa gave Larry Clark a pistol.
(GILTF) “Guy I’d Like to Fuck;” Kanye wears JESUS pieces. Jay’s
a big brother but that nigga just needs a father. TAKE MY LIFE.
I feel like dying.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Obama Withdraws Support for Anti-LGBT Defense of Marriage Act
Gay Marriage?
The U.S. Department of Justice has announced it will no longer defend the 1996 Defense of Marriage Act, which bars federal recognition of same-sex marriages. Glenn Greenwald, a constitutional law attorney and legal blogger for Salon.com, who is openly gay, talks about the significance of this decision and how DOMA affected his own choice to live in Brazil with his partner, a Brazilian national. "This is one of those rare instances where I think true and unqualified praise is deserved for the White House," Greenwald says.
Am I alone in thinking this is a banal political move? Marriage is a fucked institution. Could we use outsider status of queerness to explode the discourse of marriage, or should we strive for marriage? Any thoughts?
The U.S. Department of Justice has announced it will no longer defend the 1996 Defense of Marriage Act, which bars federal recognition of same-sex marriages. Glenn Greenwald, a constitutional law attorney and legal blogger for Salon.com, who is openly gay, talks about the significance of this decision and how DOMA affected his own choice to live in Brazil with his partner, a Brazilian national. "This is one of those rare instances where I think true and unqualified praise is deserved for the White House," Greenwald says.
Am I alone in thinking this is a banal political move? Marriage is a fucked institution. Could we use outsider status of queerness to explode the discourse of marriage, or should we strive for marriage? Any thoughts?
Prometheus
I am Prometheus. I carry fire in my pocket. I didn't steal the fire,
though. I always had it. I just stole the contraption that captures
it, always remembering that I hold the fire, it captures it. I may be
chained to this here rock, because they told me I stole (I was only
taking what was mine in the first place), but none of that matters
now. I was brought here in chains, raised in chains, fucked in chains,
was raped in chains, was wrapped in chains and lulled to sleep by my
mother, comforted in chains, at this point the chains feel like they
are made of the finest material in the world, like they are a part of
my skin. This rock I am chained to will never feel like anything but
what it is. In chains upon a rock is how I shall live out the rest of
my days, with daily little deaths they call my punishment to remind me
to not make this rock into a home.
I am Prometheus. Send your henchmen to feed off my liver, you unseen
baseborn idol who births unknowing bastards everyday and tells them
they came from underneath the virgin Lady Liberty's garment. I don't
need a fucking liver, but bring me libations anyway. Let me show them
where the fire really came from. Everyday I die la petite mort when
you steal my liver from me, and I let the alcohol ignite my blood to
give birth to my soul outside my mortal being. For I am the one true
container of fire and, the truth is, that is why my body is chained
here to this day.
I am not just Prometheus, but I am the very thing you claim I stole.
I am fire. And, yes, you are right. Everyday I steal myself back.
Everyday I steal away home. So after each climax of the day, I pull
out my lighter, light a cigarette, and blow a smoke screen in your
face while my phoenix of a soul goes off to inhabit the world happily,
while you think you got me under your thumb. Keep the cigarettes
coming, won't you?
though. I always had it. I just stole the contraption that captures
it, always remembering that I hold the fire, it captures it. I may be
chained to this here rock, because they told me I stole (I was only
taking what was mine in the first place), but none of that matters
now. I was brought here in chains, raised in chains, fucked in chains,
was raped in chains, was wrapped in chains and lulled to sleep by my
mother, comforted in chains, at this point the chains feel like they
are made of the finest material in the world, like they are a part of
my skin. This rock I am chained to will never feel like anything but
what it is. In chains upon a rock is how I shall live out the rest of
my days, with daily little deaths they call my punishment to remind me
to not make this rock into a home.
I am Prometheus. Send your henchmen to feed off my liver, you unseen
baseborn idol who births unknowing bastards everyday and tells them
they came from underneath the virgin Lady Liberty's garment. I don't
need a fucking liver, but bring me libations anyway. Let me show them
where the fire really came from. Everyday I die la petite mort when
you steal my liver from me, and I let the alcohol ignite my blood to
give birth to my soul outside my mortal being. For I am the one true
container of fire and, the truth is, that is why my body is chained
here to this day.
I am not just Prometheus, but I am the very thing you claim I stole.
I am fire. And, yes, you are right. Everyday I steal myself back.
Everyday I steal away home. So after each climax of the day, I pull
out my lighter, light a cigarette, and blow a smoke screen in your
face while my phoenix of a soul goes off to inhabit the world happily,
while you think you got me under your thumb. Keep the cigarettes
coming, won't you?
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