You found me, mouth like a pomegranate
picking flowers in my mother’s field.
An invitation of sorts.
You took it as one and spent five months
thinking about slipping your fingers into my mouth.
I think the Earth changed the day we met,
It had been waiting for you to bare your teeth
and swallow me whole
It had been waiting for the cup of your palm
around my neck except you didn’t have to beg baby
you said “let me show you what flowers look like
from the earth up.”
and I said “yes, please. Show me your flowers,
show me your dead, show me your fingers.”
My mother warned me about gods like you,
hungry, greedy gods like you
all desire and no thought
all want and no logic
I was the same.
I skipped with you into hell
Artemis knows dragged, I know this:
I held my arms outwards and let you tie them
so softly that I asked what they were made of
and you said “prayers.”
We kissed at the entrance, open-mouthed
we kissed like we were starving,
kissed like the dead were crawling out of hell
I decorated your dark with flowers
and sat on your lap and fed you petals.
It makes me burn when they say
“Hades stole Persephone.”
and I tell them “No.
I stole him.”
"What is desire? Desire is a restaurant. Desire is watching you eat. Desire is pouring wine for you. Desire is looking at the menu and wondering what it would be like to kiss you. Desire is the surprise of your skin. Look - in between us now are the props of ordinary life - glasses, knives, cloths, Time has been here before. History has had you - and me too. My hand has brushed against yours for centuries. The props change, but not this. Not this single naked wanting you."
The Black Power Mixtape 1967-1975 (2011) dir.Göran Olsson
“This whole, kind of, falling in love with black things for a short period of time is essentially racist. It still is hypothesized on a great sense of separateness and a sense of treating black activities as a kind of curiosity; either benign or threatening, one or the other. When it’s threatening, ‘Oh my god, they’re going to riot or something’. And if it’s benign, ‘Let’s let them paint or draw or sing or dance, whatever they want to do. Until we, the white community, get tired of it’ and that whole structure, is essentially racist.”
I saw this film in the theatres, and the whole thing was kind of brilliant and absolutely fascinating.
(Source: king-trashmouth, via trashcan-fire)
"Your voice sounds completely different in different languages. It alters your personality somehow. I don’t think people get the same feeling from you. The rhythm changes. Because the rhythm of the language is different, it changes your inner rhythm and that changes how you process everything.
When I hear myself speak French, I look at myself differently. Certain aspects will feel closer to the way I feel or the way I am and others won’t. I like that—to tour different sides of yourself. I often find when looking at people who are comfortable in many languages, they’re more comfortable talking about emotional stuff in a certain language or political stuff in another and that’s really interesting, how people relate to those languages."