Emotionally, spiritually, I am now more in a dialogue with my Woman, the politics of being woman, and the violence done to this woman by Structures that gag her
all I want is to find my way back to that place in me from which emanates peace. I am barefoot. Nettles abound. It could take a while. A while, also, to wipe the slime of semen – what it represents – from my life. Not with milk. Milk and semen are not equal adversaries. It is to blood – wondrous loose untampered surges – to blood, that I re/turn; to the supremacy of a blood they do not share, a blood that is cleansing, will protect me. It is not war I wish to declare (though I understand that they can’t live without their battles intellectual, economical, sexual, religious… defining themselves through destruction of the Other, their strength gained through y/our subjugation), nor do I hoist the flag. You cannot beat me because I will not fight: your battle. On your terms. I just: want to: (go (home)): wipe from my path all that impedes me from being who it is my destiny to be. Not in relation to you, or any other, but in relation to, and in harmony with, my own divinity.
(from private correspondence with L.L. December 2011)
This woman kinds of scares the shit out of me. For all the right reasons. Penny Goring. Rouge allure palpitante. Like it or love it. Actually, I don’t even feel up to summing her up. I’ll let her get on with it:
ART IS A SOLID ERECTION
Every word is an object I can see clearly, I could draw them ALL… the things it can say when its on its back… some are purely from the sound if you pinch it or what it does when you spin it in circles (it throws shadows, i can see them) (oops, now it’s throwing up) or take it out for a visit somewhere special and it turns purple & smells posh
TO SAY WHAT YOU MEAN IS THE GIFT-CURSE
It would take guts to hand over the power one can have, as a woman. You can be any sex you like when you write. Or none at all. You can be a tree
I WANT TO HURT YOU THEN MAKE IT WORSER
I’m facing a brick wall built by men, by tradition, and I find my own ways to dissolve the grout (…) Wall built by dullards. My only tool is the slippery part of me that is very me. Very me speaks my words, not theirs. Very me speaks their words in my own way. Their words – used by me – can become my words.
vag bone connected to the heart bone
heart bone connected to the hate bone
hate bone connected to the love bone
love bone connected to the death bone
death bone connected to the birth bone
birth bone connected to the lonely bone
lonely bone connected to the fuck bone
i love the skyy i fuck with
i fuck death with my love bone
i fuck love with my lost bone
i have never been unfaithful to the skyy
“Love this so much. The last line, “i have never been unfaithful to the skyy” left me with my mouth wide open. Awesome sauce.” (Frausto)
Get back to her blog if you know what’s good for you.