Transnationally Black

[transnationallyblack-blog]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOINSUWOqyo)

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(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wu3TGKyEn_M)

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Headmistress/Amara Tabor-Smith and Sherwood Chen- "Up to Know Good"

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House/Full of Black Women episode: "Now You See Me"

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(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JIp9_IIV3s)

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for the lovers in these times

Love me in this Hold

Love-hold me as only you can

Love-fight with me for

For Loves preservation

For this "me" quakes

aware of the articulations

the agonies

the annals

Yet still

needing to

individuate a Self

within these Earth encounter(s)

Tired

of not knowing/having a where to lay down this Self's weary head

within the consciousness

of conviviality

where hospitably, politely

Class,  Otherness, Otherings

also reside

Sometimes indiscreetly mute,

Sometimes politely intuited

Sometimes franticly embodied  

sometimes

semiotically

inappropriate as fuck...

Attuned

too sharply

too much

to something articulated with/ to a something

in spite of its Self ...

Spinning

Problematic

A Self Spectrum

I still don't know and

still don't know if I hate,

but hate anyway because 'It' looks like  "Them",

how can 'We' love Them...

Are You loving Them

are You Them???

Am I loving Them???

Am I ...

Too much?

Struggle now:

How can the lives,  Black as they lived,  become Life

when They look like We or

when somehow

We all are She?

Struggle now :  

how can learning land without scars

when do the scars become Scarabs, mama?

where how to plant my feet, papa?

how to lock my hips and knees, baby?

can this Self be watery, wistful, and full of wonder,

as we wade together

in this Hold?

[transnationallyblack-blog]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=my4eE4denus)

[transnationallyblack-blog]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdmG2sTa-i8)

[transnationallyblack-blog]

Masquerade Sisters

here in hold of this place I call country, is a retreat from the now our bodies are here as if we have never not been 

I feel the gyroscopic abandon kinetic energy turbined  by hips and hand waves, bass lines and breasts radiating out from Chakras one  through three I feel you here like you have never not been here

Eternal like this conversation that crosses Atlantic and Pacific healing like sea water hot like breaths of longing sweet like the tears sucked back on the last sob of  "I cant tek it no more!"

I want to infiltrate this pretty mas couched in capital and costumes of celebrity I want to unpick with me teeth the work chains I want to oil slick and slip past the burdens of business....

How beautiful an interruption..... a concentrated Mas Camp black and brown beauty exposed or covered working collectively to co create Afro Futured machinations   Free from the  feathered chokehold of the "supposed to be"... from the heaviness of "singularity" from the glare of  "shine"....

I want to wrap our bodies in the folds  of a new hold as firm, as full... as fragile as scatterred mother-memories.... swaddling, looping and tying, hanging, piercing, inking, scarring..... I want to bend wire and beat my fore fathers memories back into effigies and instruments of freedom.... I want to weave something new

I want to get drunk with ritual I want the  transformation the  transcendence, The trance and the dance I want the jouvay rejuvenation

I want my all inclusive to be FREE

I want to burn Mr. Harding again!

My sisters would understand this freedom drive, I tell myself.

I want to play mas with my sisters...

[transnationallyblack-blog]

for the anti-colonials

Tectonic machine gather-smiths sighted, cited, situated in some kind o' way...

offering up technique and time held high held up like/by so many hands...

burning fire by fire rage kinned and kilned by mother-memory black iron tongue sharp'd by red iron thought and the spectrum of immortal volition

[transnationallyblack-blog]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7X8gIrkUTh0)

[transnationallyblack-blog]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ziRjhAgTO8)

[transnationallyblack-blog]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cnK6SAGVRds)

[transnationallyblack-blog]

Tricky Traumatic, So Somatic

Trauma. Thats the word that comes….Trauma,  transformation, mutation and mutilation that are required for me to become my writerly self. Between mothers lost, lives dispossessed, incarcerated bodies and the blues, the writing that moves me moves me to write about being moved… moving and being displaced… being haptically raw… Are you feeling the feeling? 

With Shadow I wonder whether there is a somatic secret to pushing words out  from my belly-sense onto a page. Do I want to use text to conjure like Octavia, or do I want to a kind of sycoratic praxis, is it the pretty pleasure of the words laid out for me, by me, reformed and deformed.... And the need to write becomes a machine of recall, to fore-call  wounds and their dehiscences…  

By what means do we enter into the scripting our queer black selfhood? Is it always through some stark, dark, absence, or through the absence of darkness?

 EPJ’s humor-rigor hermeneutic is a writerly love amulet.   I love neo-dragging myself up to the challenge of the ‘quare’ at moments when my writing  iron needs a little sword fight to get hard.  

And as dance sweat wets me down, my mind and mouth are full of Xango-fire. How to transform this blowtorch into light-glow, epistemological warmth for possibles. How to sumon change through my finger flow.   How to calcify and mollify,  how to spread open the already there and how to insert the new?   What does it meant to write  for Arts sake?

How can we all write into the trauma without the need to reproduce its violence  as embodied evidence? How can we transform the evidence of trauma into proof of something else? How can we read differently into the trauma that the act of forced - read ‘academic’ writing?  How to avoid mutilating the craft? How can we wear the many hats of producer, laborer, student, teacher, healer and an agent provocateur, all at once or at the right moment ?How can we interrupt normative space, time, relation, conceptions of the world and of  being in the world through our writing without re-calcifying  frames in out conceptual deliberations ? How do we approach writing as Art for our Time? How do we approach writing for Art’s sake??