Rough Drafts

All Poetry and Photography by me

[sm4762]

[sm4762]

[sm4762]

[sm4762]

[diningwithdana]

Black Royalty in the Now

Next Wednesday Dining with Dana will be covering “Rococoa”, discussing black royalty in the niche subculture and the importance it holds today. Join in on Wednesday 14th in The Scene!

First picture by Fabiola Jean-Louis, Rewriting History

[medievalpoc]

Rococoa and the Frivolous Fro (article)

2nd photo is fashion photography afaik, ‘Black and White’ by Robert Flammier (German, I believe, so perhaps I’m limited by language on this one)

The 3rd photo is also one of Fabiola Jean-Louis’s paper dresses, although I don’t recognize the specific photograph.

Fourth photo is hard to find source for because I think it’s possibly been cropped at some point, but ended up in some odd places

Fifth Photo is from Kehinde Wiley’s Economy of Grace: https://www.thecut.com/2015/02/kehinde-wiley-spring-portfolio.html

6th photo I believe may have been someone’s personal Halloween or reenactment costume based of of the character Calypso from Pirates of the Caribbean (and ended up posted on Pinterest at some point)

7th photo is Jimmy Jean-Louis & Aïssa Maïga in ‘Toussaint Louverture’ (2012)

The last photo is “Elegance” by PorcelainPoet on DeviantArt

if anyone knows more accurate sources for #2, #4, and #6, feel free to add them!

[sm4762]

Alone and I

Late night

And Insanity grips my soul 

Causing my thoughts to drift

Through curvèd streets

Ever so softly in the snow

To you.

I won’t ask where this went wrong

I don’t really care

‘Cuz if we honest I guess we never did

Go anywhere;

And just like this poem

We, too, were a joke--

But I’m gonna prove

That I love you,

Dearly.

And as sure as the stars

Lie fixed in time and space

So we, too, were relative.

But I’ll get better (you promise)

‘Cuz I was unfair 

And perhaps a bit cruel--

But I’ll prove to you 

That I loved you

Dearly.

[sm4762]

A House Divided

Footsteps click and resound

Reverberating in the empty chambers of

These hallowed halls of Congress.

[High noon]--in walks the President

the Vice President, Mr. Speaker

And the Senate Majority Leader.

[Knock, Knock, Knock. The speaker bangs his gavel.

The chamber doors are blown open]:

Sanders arrives leading the mounted charge

Of the Democratic cavalry

Crushing his moderate foes under 

The red hooves of his white horse

 When the shooting starts--

[enter the Freedom Caucus

Bearing AR-15s disguised as minutemen]

While the cameras watch coldly 

Reporting live from the bull pit.

But nobody’s watching on TV 

‘Cuz nobody cares.

In the city of our best yesterdays

There ain’t no jobs to fill;

Just empty mouths. 

And there behind those doors

While the world spins

And kills itself

Stands a house divided. 

[thingsofthisworld-deactivated20]

Jeanne de Montbaston, taken from a Roman de la Rose, illumination, mid-fourteenth century. Ms. Fr 25526, fol. 106 v °, Bibliothèque Nationale de France.

Phallus-shaped passion fruit.

Phallus-shaped fruit.

The unusual 13th century Tree of Fertility fresco was discovered by chance a decade ago in the Tuscan town of Massa Marittima and has recently been subjected to a three-year restoration. The experts who carried out the restoration have been accused of sanitising the mural by scrubbing out or altering some of the testicles, which hang from the tree’s branches along with around 25 phalluses.

[sm4762]

Didn’t know these things were real... I wish they weren’t real but some crazy figment of the (medieval) imagination but there you go.

[sm4762]

Saying Goodbye to London Again

 I found this little poem as I was going through some documents on my laptop. As I’m about to finish college, thought I might share it here. (Written December 2014)

London nights

and early morning flights,

Interview questions

and security inspections.

And, finally, 

there and back agains.

[sm4762]

Bob Dylan’s Dream

Bob Dylan dreams

of Greenwich Village, 

And girls that were there

And those that were not.

And stuffs words 

Down his gullet 

At a banquet 

Given in his honor

And he realizes 

With horror

That he’s Eating

His own words.

And He the sees

The mens’ faces

Swelling up

Bigger than their stomachs:

And all melting slowly into the sands of Time.

In a cloud of smoke 

He says

I sees the world reflected--

The new world busy dyin’ 

And prayin’;

And Livin’ Stealin’ Cheatin’

--Busy living’.

Bob Dylan wakes up on Sunday morning

Hungover.

[sm4762]

Shanghai wedding

Credits: Stephanie McMorran

[sm4762]

Beijing Highway

Photo credits: Stephanie McMorran

[sm4762]

Photo credits: Stephanie McMorran

[sm4762]

Tarantino

You and I walk into the frame

Black suits, black ties

Black glasses shining in the hot LA sun;

We’re on the run.

And I didn’t see the old man

Lying down in the bush

Until he shot me 

While we tried to escape.

Like and old movie reel

You’ll staunch the pain

And I’ll be cradled in your arms

Like an innocent babe

Knowing the time’ll come

And our games’ll be done

When they come to take you 

Away again.