Our Actual History
Posted on March 24, 2008 - Filed Under Arts and Entertainment | Leave a Comment
I took my bike during 2007 Rainbow Festival in Malmö, Sweden, to go to an evening of queer poetry with Jan Hammarlund. Jan is the first openly gay artist who was played in Swedish radio in the 70s, that way he himself is a part of our LGBT heritage. The program read: 2000 years of queer poetry round the Mediterranean sea. Sappho, Catullus, Kavafi. In some way I could feel it was interconnected with my own recital, performed the day before - Music from the closet.
Read More..>>Me To You
Posted on March 24, 2008 - Filed Under Arts and Entertainment | Leave a Comment
Venomous snakes and spiders spin webs of deception…
spread misconceptions about my identi-tie…
I’m sendin nine…
shots of straight truth to the youth…
so real you can feel it like a boot to yo tooth…
complete flows defeat foes and top them charts…
Tommy Lockhart a rock star u fruity pop tart…while u talk s#!t bout what you gon do to me…
why not revitalize our community…
I’m talkin u and me…have unity…it’s time to unite and fight for what’s right…
and u gotta choose u either with or against…
and you being against just don’t make sense…
don’t be stupid…
facts so undisputed…
they try to confuse it…
and often abuse it…
last comes first and first comes last…
but catz quick to blast for cash and that’s sad…
where did my Love go wrong?…
why u need to cause harm in almost all of yo songs?…
so untrue…no follow thru…I hereby abolish u.…lyrically demolish u…
protected by the Love beyond my dying death…
but I’ll still be around when there’s nothing left…
many men have tried…asked themselves why…
looking up to the sky in labor of futi-li-ty…figure it out if u point missin…I’m rim kissin…on my twenty-third rhyme mission…
my vocal and vocab is so fab u can get the gonads and the bozack…
honeys hunt me down like I‘m lojack…it don’t mean u got skills cause u sold crack or hold gatz…
fake thugs were never told that…I hold catz scoreless…cause they rhymes style so boring…
all these pimp gangsta balla rap stories…Tommy Lock call yo bluff cream puff…
I slept on silk sheets that were way more rough… than u… unskilled no talent doo doo…last name “defecation” and first name “pooh”…I‘m the manifestation of what skills can do…
comes naturally like white boys sayin “dude”…the vintage futuristic… kinda cool and smooth like Kaboom or Mystic…I’ll be very specific…I’m the terrific misfit…going against the grain… changing the game…maintainin the claim to fame…as the nycest that came…remember the name…Tommy Lockhart got flava like now-or-laters…the Hip Hop savior…go tell yo neighbor…
The Soldiers Of Nirut (in The Cell Of The Dungeon) Part Six Of Six
Posted on March 21, 2008 - Filed Under Arts and Entertainment | Leave a Comment
The Incarceration of Niruh I
I rushed across the stone cell floor
tore my thigh on the bedside,
men packed in behind
panting, raving, blood-stained
(from the battle-ax of the guards).
Their fierce, faces found mine;
the bars on the door began to give:
reluctantly my brain—(with
suspicion) told me: “Step back,”
next—the guard hurled the door open
(had I been closer, I’d had been on
by back…!)
I yelled, “I am Niruh, the prince of
Lihterb, my brother Nirut,
the king….”
Suddenly my eyes were blinded—
(burning like fire)
by the thrust and force
deafened, by a roar and flash
of a sword of bright blue steel;
it passed so close it seared my hair…
(I hesitated) turrets of pain
in my mind, screamed, flooded
my cerebellum: sixty-men—in
the enormous room, all of us
held captive in the secret dungeons
of the Quiet Mound, like dogs in
a kennel.
The Slaying In The Night (sir Gawain And The Green Knight)
Posted on March 15, 2008 - Filed Under Arts and Entertainment | Leave a Comment
Introductory Poem
The Slaying in the Night (Sir Gawain and the Green Knight)
The Green Knight came back from war
His armor low, his spoil high:
Trunks of silk and weeping wives,
Gold, and wine and precious oils.
There was one that did not weep
But laughed in the Knight’s face,
And between the Lady and the Knight
He stood in a warrior’s stance.
Her Hair, a golden-yellow light
In which two knights sank;
Her frame was contoured just right,
At which all women dreamed.
Her lips were crimson red; her eyes
Liken to the sea, bluish-green
She wore a see-through gown,
One that all could see…!
And at the feast and by her course
No man—save, Sir Gawain dared
And from the distance, men-in-arms
Stood their ground, and starred.
Life
Posted on March 5, 2008 - Filed Under Arts and Entertainment | Leave a Comment
I was the sunshine that cradled your day
that tried to push the clouds away
I was the sand that ran between your toes
when you were four years old
that soon became the rain you danced in
from seven to eleven
And I watched you grow in the glow
of a moon that beamed
when you turned thirteen
How unfair you thought I’d become
when you turned twenty-one
because you lost a few dreams
But I stayed awake when you were out late
I was the stars ’till you turned twenty-eight
And when you found your love
“the one”
I was glimmer in the eye, the blue sky, the sun
Then you turned thirty-one
I became cloud, thunder and shower
there weren’t enough minutes to put in your hour
You forgot how to dance in the rain
’till you turned forty all you did was complain
Then you took off your shoes
and went back to the sand
I was now the warmth of your child’s hand
At forty-three
you spent more time with me
You began
to understand
And when you stood fifty years old
you stayed warm to me even though
at times I was cold
How close we grew
when you turned sixty-two
The breeze was I
that hung your grandchild’s kite in the sky
And I’m sorry I made you sad
when I took “the one” away
But I was proud
when you pushed aside that cloud
and cradled ‘me’ in the sun
for the remainder of our day
