Friday, May 30, 2014

When you fall through

No, Ru dear, no, that won’t do.
Who we are can’t belong to you.
*Trans- is always, enduring, true.
**Drag ends when the show is through.

Your drag each night is fresh and new,
Painted on with brush and hue,
Frail like frost and clear like dew,
But we’re still here when you fall through.

You’re not us and we’re not you.
We’re more than blush, lipstick, and shoe.
There is no mask we can unglue,
No stage persona to unscrew.

So listen up and get a clue:
Don’t speak for us like that, dear Ru.
You rake the cash when you’re true blue.
And run when thing look down for you.

You’ve pay the bills? Well good for you.
We know the cost when friends are few.
Since trans- persists when bills are due,
We’ll still be trans- when you fall through.

* I’ve highlighted the word trans- because of very complicated nature of the word. I’ve used it as a prefix, because I think as a prefix it introduces the trans- community instead of trying to encapsulate it. This is my particular usage of the word, other people use Trans or trans on its own. The trans- community is a very diverse community of people who do not identify with the sex they were assigned at birth. This may include people who identify as transgender, transsexual, third sex, third gender, intergendered, intersexual, etc. This contrasts specifically with cisgendered people, people who identify with the sex they were assigned at birth. Drag is not trans-, particularly because a cis-, heterosexual person can dress up in drag and that’s okay, and probably should be encouraged. However, once they take off the drag, the drag ends, there is no point at which they were not men even during the drag. Drag is therefore not an identity. Drag performs a vital role in society, and should be protected and respected, but not at the cost of trans- issues. Drag is a performance. Trans- is an identity. There is a lot to be said for gender queering and genderfucking, but this is ultimately still gender tourism at best and needs to be done with respect and subtlety, particularly by cis-, heterosexual, white, wealthy, privileged, able-bodied, religious men. Remember, trans- people persist when the joke is over.

**If the trans- community has highlighted an issue, such as the use of the word “tranny”, the drag community has no right dictating to us what that words means or how that word is used. They cannot adopt or appropriate the word and pretend at contexts or point to examples of “bitch” and “whore” being used among women, or “faggot” being used among the gay community, or the n-word being used among people of colour. These examples aren’t even analogous amongst each other, never mind the use of “tranny” and “shemale”. These words have done damage in the trans- community to which the drag community has limited access to, limited understanding of, and limited experience of. A cis- man who dresses in drag, such as RuPaul and his many supporters (people who perform specifically as drag artists, many of them identifying specifically as cis-, and not trans- people), go to bed at night as men. They get naked and they remain men. The trans- community are people who are trans- regardless of whether they’re wearing a dress or jeans or whether they are naked in the shower. We don’t go to bed becoming secret men (I love this twisted image of the “secret” sex, and I will post a link to where I read this image first if I find it again, because the person who wrote it needs to be acknowledged). We don’t pretend at trans-, we are trans-, and the failure of understanding that is exactly what’s wrong with RuPaul and his many supporters and their persistent defensiveness, divisiveness, and transphobic language. Roy Haylock performing as his drag persona Bianca Del Rio attacked Carmen Carrera after Carrera criticized RuPaul for transphobic language on RuPaul’s show and his consequent unwillingness to understand. Haylock’s abusive language is a prime example of the transphobic attitude in the drag community: “Maybe she should take what’s left of her dick and stick it in her mouth and shut the fuck up.” Haylock has “apologized” and written off his various statements as a “joke”. It’s not particularly funny is it? Also, regarding the claim that trans- people such as Carrera owe RuPaul something, let me be clear: the trans- community owes nothing to RuPaul Andre Charles. We exist despite him, not because of him. Had he never come about, the trans- community would have endured and we have found other ways of creating awareness. He should be thankful to us for having used so many trans- people to further his own career and deepening his own pocket. 

-o0o-

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Breadkettle

Oafish contrived pot.
Smouldering,
Offering that offensive odor.
An ode to you?
Perhaps not.
Stupid toaster.

-o0o-

Sunday, May 25, 2014

When what we really deserved...

We are the architects of time
And so the oligarchs of fate
We wrote the edict and the crime
We wrought the guillotine and state
Not fully risen from the slime
We had our fellows on our plate
Longpig on sale for half a dime
Sold, steaming, slice-for-slice, by weight

We privileged few
Of course we knew
And still we do
Again, anew

We silvertongued sires
  Slave owning buyers
    Witch burning fires
      Gay hating liars

When then the clock struck out our chime
They came then knocking at our gate
Instead of planting us in lime
They offered love instead of hate

-o0o-

Sunday, May 18, 2014

Bonfire of the Families

The old don:
He is perfect after all?
His flaws, manifest on his wife
Scrubbing them from her skin
Picking his hatred off his children
Chewing them like cured beef
Fucking mongrels that they are
Spat out onto the pyres
What good are they?
Their soot and their mother’s fatless corpse
Polish to his boots

But then he snaps his fingers
All has to be suddenly well
He is suddenly the perfect man
She is suddenly the perfect wife
-the children, sparkly toothy things
smiling with hollow eyes
There is much to prepare
The guests can’t see the house like this
The don’s wife has to clean up quickly
Wipe the blood from her face
Powders over the bruises
Hush the children up
The priests are coming
A feast has to be prepared
Creases ironed
The don dresses in his best
His wife sweeps herself under the carpet
You can hardly see the children’s toes
Where they stick out under the drapes
The house is clean
The family smiles
Their lines rehearsed
The court is in session

The elite have arrived
The don’s wife a ghost of hospitality
All done
All prepared
Ready
Presentable
Used up and empty

Silver the children starved for
Bone porcelain made from the wife
her teeth, her skull
The food carved from their smiling carcasses
As they stand there
The charade heaped on them
The don elated
Drunk and sloshing about
Preening over his perfect world
Gloating over his perfect family
Don't they smile broadly?
Aren't they articulate?
Aren't they witty?

The priests are happy
Such a lovely evening
What a traditional family
Who would want to ruin this?

-o0o-

Catch22

I'm afraid,
you see?
Afraid of the outcome:
should I say something.
In so many instances,
knowing that I'm powerless.
Incapable of bargaining.
So afraid to betray myself,
and how I feel.
Afraid that talking,
saying something,
anything,
could mean the end.
I'm lonely,
but not so much as I am afraid.

-o0o-

Thursday, May 15, 2014

Tip

and I...
tilting my eyes downwards
sideways
askance
I looked at the thing dangling somewhat

and it...
over-ended on the side of my desk
tilting dangerously
and rolling
edge--edge
here--here
the contents spat out on the mat

and it...
that cup beginning that final moment
when the world's fingertip
Old-Newton's call
pawing at the little ceramic sconce
pulling
beckoning
urging its fall

and I...
intrigued by the ebb
and the effortless beauty
of the rolling pearl
that disengorged my mind 
into the air
i found myself ticking
left/right as a clock
in echo of the hollow shell

and I...
mirror to it
twined by its yaw
caught it before it fell
for fear of breaking myself

-o0o-

Puppet

Ah, but I do exist and maybe in spite of you,
and quite possibly to spite you,
and your tireless efforts to undo me.
I exist nonetheless. I am vital without you.

Look here how I move. Here! Look!
And without your pulling at my strings.
How easily I flail my arms without your manipulation.
How easily I speak without your ventriloquism.

Were you expecting obedience? Gratitude perhaps?
I’m sorry, but I won’t play the role you've chosen:
that “god-given” nonsense you’re always on about;
to be that good little toy you're so fond of.

I won’t sit still, like a good little puppet,
hanging from my strings in the cupboard,
till you feel it necessary to fetch me,
so you can play out your little fantasy.

I won't keep quiet, the silenced fetish,
debarked in the suitcase like a handbagged dog,
till you feel it necessary to fetch me,
so you can put your own words in my mouth.

Oh I'm too angry, you say? So bitter.
Not really. Although you couldn't understand.
You don't know the stage you've appropriated.
You're up in the rafters. I live on the stage.

Of course it makes you feel uncomfortable.
This isn't the world you were taught.
This isn't the world you grew up in.
This world belongs to the puppeteer and his strings.

But what good is a puppeteer without a puppet,
when the puppet doesn't need you anymore?
What use are you to me now that scissors exist,
suddenly snipping the strings to disentangle you?

Your permission is meaningless.
So regardless of what you do, how hard you try,
this puppet just won't sit still and shut up.
Are you uncomfortable? Good.

That means you're listening.

-o0o-

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Coffee and Arseholes

Please head over to Poetry Potion for this poem:

http://poetrypotion.com/coffee-and-arseholes-by-charl-landsberg/

Also buy their quarterly editions... since I have a tendency of featuring in them.

Love and Kisses
Charl

-o0o-