1. |
Filth and Mud
06:28
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I want your history to end in filth and mud.
I want your history to end in filth and mud.
I want our history to end like the movie Pride.
I want the labor movement to walk hand in hand with the queer activists,
the queer activists to walk hand in hand with the undocumented,
the undocumented to walk hand in hand with their children,
the children to walk hand in hand with their rabbits,
the rabbits to have water bottles for the children in their backpacks.
I want Cambodia’s farmers to burn our paper money.
I want to forget that it is for my freedom of choice that the world is split asunder.
I want transnational adoption to be banned.
I want my children to belong to someone else.
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2. |
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I refuse to give up my obsession.
I refuse to come to the point.
I refuse to buy the Berlin Wall.
I’ve said nothing about the millions of poor who live in your flower pots.
I’ve said nothing about your prisons.
I’ve said nothing about how Ylva sang me to sleep that night.
I’ve said nothing about how family ties will be dissolved.
stop pushing I know what I’m doing.
I’m sick of your insane demands.
Let a woman live.
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3. |
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I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.
I can’t stand my own mind.
when will you end the human war?
I don’t feel good, don’t bother me.
I won’t write my poem till I’m in my right mind.
when will you retire?
when will you retire?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your millions of guest workers?
You are an oversized blot of shame on the map.
You love Aristotle, but you hate Greeks.
You love counting, but you hate Arabs.
You love Sigbjørn’s poetry, but you hate Sami.
You love decorating your balcony, but you hate your neighbors.
You love handcuffs, but you hate sex.
there is a place in Slovenia called Jerusalem.
That’s where the crusaders settled when they couldn’t make it all the way.
you cannot separate
la mission civilisatrice from Christianity,
Christianity from Feudalism,
Feudalism from Industrialism,
Industrialism from Capitalism,
Capitalism from Barbarism.
I hope those who were burned at the stake had a deal with Satan.
I hope Galileo Galilei is laughing scornfully in his sky.
I hope seal fat really cures whooping cough.
I hope partisans still live in the mountains.
I hope they eye fascists like you eye rabbits.
I was eight years old when the war in Yugoslavia broke out.
I was nine when I got Bosnian classmates.
I couldn’t understand that they were refugees like us,
even though they were European.
In Belgrade, Tito’s mausoleum is to the right of the Iranian embassy.
Enna still says that she speaks Serbo-Croatian.
it really is the era of forgetting.
My psychoanalyst thinks I’m perfectly right.
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4. |
Queer Shoulder
15:28
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no matter how many times we call London the Middle West
and the US the Far West,
you act as though these are the glory days of King Leopold.
I still haven’t told you what you did to our parents in the 1990s.
I haven’t explained why I have laser pens in my bag.
Do you remember the white hands on lapels?
Do you remember those who toasted in the bars of Madrid when Pinochet had a heart attack?
Do you remember those who pulled their hair out when Milošević died in a cell?
Do you remember those who danced in the streets of London when Thatcher had a stroke?
Do you remember grandmother’s petrol blue head scarf?
Do you remember me with braids in my hair?
Nothing we learned in school corresponds with reality.
where have you misplaced love ?
What have you done with your little specter ?
Where have you hidden your geraniums ?
When will you be stopped in security ?
When will you be tried at the Hague ?
When will you listen to refugees rather than journalists who go undercover as refugees ?
is this correct?
I refuse to give up my obsession.
I refuse to come to the point.
I refuse to buy the Berlin Wall.
I’ve said nothing to you
I’ve said nothing about the millions of poor who live in your flower pots.
I’ve said nothing about your prisons.
I’ve said nothing about how Ylva sang me to sleep that night.
I’ve said nothing about how family ties will be dissolved.
stop pushing I know what I’m doing.
I’m sick of your insane demands.
Let a woman live.
How can I write a holy litany in your hopeless mood?
The plum blossoms are falling here too.
my queer shoulder has been dislocated.
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5. |
Through The Grave
10:15
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