Monthly Archives: October 2016

Prove It

Transcribed from a spoken word improv night at O’Lounge, Song-tan, Republic of Korea. First performed by Karin a.k.a. Bloodjay 26/OCT/16.

I hate how everyone wants to pretend everything’s been all right all along
Like a third of the country isn’t meeting the end of their lives in the wrong
How they can take a single, powerful “Matter”
And turn into a rug when it should be a banner!
They just sweep up problems as if they never existed
When the best we on the high ground can do is assist instead of
Resisting and desisting,
Meanwhile everyone else fights to simply live with everything they are–their whole might!
And they still all fall on the wayside

I hate how all these kids are going out to play
While gunshots reign and dirty water sprays and everyone’s praying, but nobody saves–!
But that’s a normal day for this neighborhood.
And that sentence right there is meant to sit well, be chewed, and understood.
Normalcy. Right. Well.
There was this normal idea at the beginning of this country’s life that “all men are equal–except some of them.”
We’ve come a long way since that time–
I hope to God, anyway.

So when a third of this country is being swept under the rug
I hope that doesn’t sit well with all, if not some.
There are no exceptions. No exemptions. Everyone is included now.
Blacks. Hispanics. Even the black and hispanic cops.
Out there living their free lives–Everyone getting shot.
–BAM BAM–For one reason or another
Brothers and sisters split. Mothers and fathers bereft of their children just quit.
And people wonder why the city goes to shit.

People like to pretend, “Oh nothing’s wrong. Look about!”
While the house around them burns to the ground
But so help me God, if another one comes to my door with:
“Not just Black people–All lives matter! Take down that sign–just move it!
I’ll (make pounding motions, then restrain self)
So ALL lives matter? Fucking prove it.

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I’m Bad With Batteries

I had a problem with technology the other week that I can’t even tell my mother.
Companion Site said, “Confidentially Create Your Own Significant Other”
“Yeah, right,” I thought at first. “Oh boy,” my heart fluttered.
But 600$, a consultation, and 20hrs later… I sputtered,
“Holy fucking shit, is that what I think it is?”
(Boxed up, resting in peanuts, overnight-shipped)
A mail-order husband, “Ready to meet any dame’s needs–
Just gently insert 4 rectum-safe rechargeable AAA batteries!”

“Into where?” my horror stricken mind rang. “Oh boy,” my heart sang.
“Wait, I have to return this!” I reneged. It had to be a game.
But nope. There I was, pushing a 195 lb crate up two flights.
Waiting for Kutcher to pop out at any moment–or “World Star!” and a fight.
I turned on the kitchen light. Pried the sonuvabitch open and lo–
Blonde, eyes shut, glorious to behold–a comatose beau with a square jaw and sharp nose.
I pinched myself. I scrutinized the invoice. It had to be a prank.
No luck, comrade. Mother Russia delivered a willing, tall cup o’ drank.

“Oh boy,” my heart sang. “No. This has gotta be HIGHLY illegal,” I replied.
Papers enclosed proclaimed my very real hombre was in fact named Brice.
Further reading confirmed my greatest fear and dream:
Brice was the new consumer model of robots, designed for ages 18-33.
(Why only to 33 years old? I have no idea. Company policy?)
But there I was, crouched over a naked machine, wondering, wondering
How drunk had I been yesterday? And Why have I never done this before?
Oh god, I had to hide him–dildos are one thing, but I mean–Jeez, does this make me a whore?
My mind raced to every end even before beginning.
Man, me and God were going to have discuss the nature of my future sinning.

Digging through a chaotic kitchen drawer, I finally found batteries bumming
And–sparing you the horrific “bum” details–soon, Brice was on and humming.
His blue eyes opened and his pretty mouth parted as if he had something to tell.
I thought, “What profound first-words could this bot say to put me further under his spell?”
He licked his lips, blinked slowly, and lay there prone with a semi-erection.
He said, “Please take out and reinsert the anal batteries in the opposite direction.”

Painted Red

The tile’s cold, but the water’s warm.
I’ll shield you from any harm.

What are we fighting for
(When we fight ourselves)
If not for each other?

If not for all our friends
Then why not our lovers?

The world is spinning down a road
We meant to paint red

But it looks like
It painted us instead.