Thursday, March 31, 2011
Extinction Like A Song Never Heard Again
She's the last breath taken by the last of her kind
Extinction like a song never heard again.
She's the hour between night and dawn,
when the earth stands still to mourn her loss---
the decimation of whale, wolf, rhino
of elephant and eagle
of virgin forests, highly prized
slashed and burned...
their body parts sold to the highest bidder.
(excerpt from "Body Parts")
c.Marlene Azoulai2000
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
BLACK SARAH
BOG CHILD
amnesia is a creature
who resides in a bog
deep down in the mud
of lost memories
her face swollen with tears
that i cannot cry
for ten years of my life
that i cannot recall
ten years that she took
and swallowed up whole
not even a ghost
did she leave me behind
did i ride in a school bus
did i have any friends
did i live with my parents
in a house somewhere
it’s nothing but blank
there’s nothing to hold
no way to know
i was innocent once
it aches my soul cold
to stand there at night
at the edge of the bog
where my childhood died
c.MarleneAzoulai2010
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
SHOCK BRAIN IN A BOX
Saturday, March 19, 2011
INSIDE OUT
Friday, March 18, 2011
Blood Love
They say love happens in the heart.
Does it then live in the blood
passion red, pumped in and out
in and out
Making the heart beat
sometimes skip
a beat
perhaps even
stop
no longer hopeful
The way blood coagulates
thick with grief
before crusting over
hard with bitterness
Or does love float on the blood
an ocean of red poppies
spreading like water, over the desert
slaking the thirst of all it touches
and the desert
speechless, with its parched tongue
and love, like water, like blood
veining the cracked earth
back to life
I tell you that my heart
is tired of beating itself
against a wall
of memories
And that my blood
is the colour
of dried red roses
It flows slow
a dirge,a lament
for those lost
My pulse whimpers
a distant sobbing
And the word, ‘love’
rarely passes my lips
anymore
c.copyrightMarleneAzoulai2004
They say love happens in the heart.
Does it then live in the blood
passion red, pumped in and out
in and out
Making the heart beat
sometimes skip
a beat
perhaps even
stop
no longer hopeful
The way blood coagulates
thick with grief
before crusting over
hard with bitterness
Or does love float on the blood
an ocean of red poppies
spreading like water, over the desert
slaking the thirst of all it touches
and the desert
speechless, with its parched tongue
and love, like water, like blood
veining the cracked earth
back to life
I tell you that my heart
is tired of beating itself
against a wall
of memories
And that my blood
is the colour
of dried red roses
It flows slow
a dirge,a lament
for those lost
My pulse whimpers
a distant sobbing
And the word, ‘love’
rarely passes my lips
anymore
c.copyrightMarleneAzoulai2004
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
BEIN' TEN
(mixed media on paper)
i wake up in the mornin’, an i tell ‘im i can’t
i can’t do it with ‘im, i say
we can’t do it this mornin’, i tell ‘im,
because i’m ten
that’s how i feel mornin’s, when i wake up frail an’ shaky inside
like the whole world’s made outta rice paper
all ready to crumble
that’s how i feel mornin’s, i tell ‘im
like i’m ten
so the entire bizness of sex, i tell ‘im, is not somethin’ i can do
it’s a shock to my system
to my bein’ ten
meanwhile he’s runnin’ his hands up an’ down, all over my body
like he’s tracin’ a picture of me with his fingers
tellin’ me i’m some kinda sex goddess, like in the movies
an’ he’s in heaven, he says
‘cause he ain’t never seen nothin’ so beautiful as me
an’ i’m stretchin’ out, long and catlike
the way they do when the’re sittin’ in your lap
an’ ya find that spot on their neck
and ya rub it just right
until their bodies melt into whatever shape
ya wanna give ‘em
with me, i guess it’s the touchin’ an’ the words, all put together
an’ he says,”yeah, keep stretchin’ like that , just like that “
an’ i got my head on his chest -- a strong big place
just like i knew it would be, when i first met ‘im
he didn’t have no shirt on that day
an’ i thought, ‘i just wanna lay my head down on this man’s chest
an’ rest for awhile’
an’ now he’s pressin’ up against
me bein small in his arms
an’ then it happens -- like somebody switched the channels on the tv
an’ there’s another show goin’ on
my arms are stretched out back over my head, on the bed
like i’m chained down
only they ain’t real chains
not the kind ya can see
but i can’t move
an’ he’s on top of me,
an’ i want ‘im to ram right through me
right through the bed
an’ down into the ground
so’s i can’t go nowhere
so’s i can’t be ten
or a woman
so’s i can be nothin’
nothin’ with no questions
‘cause i’m tired of questions
tired of wonderin’ whether i’m ten
or a woman
the way i figure it
all those years
an’ all those men
shoulda made me a woman by now
an’ he says he wants me to be wearin’ somethin’ next time
so’s he can rip it off me
an’ he wants me chained down for real
so’s he can do whatever he wants
until i’m beggin’ for it -- it bein’ him
an’ i don’t wonder about it then
‘cause i’m bein’ rammed into nothin’
nothin with no questions
i wonder about it later
was i ten, when he did what he did to me back then ?
was i ten ?
or did i cross some kinda line
go from ten
to bein a woman
‘cause i know there’s all kinds o’ lines, when you’re in that place
bein’ body to body close with a person
all kinds o’ lines
ways people got to keep themselves from bein’ invaded upon
there’s barb-wire lines that cut ya up bad, if ya try to cross ’em
there’s ‘lectrocuted lines that’ll shock ya into wishin’ you was some place else
there’s wooden fences ya can crawl under, or climb over
there’s ditches dug all ‘round a thing, and water an’ alligators put in there
so’s ya can’t swim across
there’s lines with land mines hidden under ‘em -- one wrong move an’ you’re blown to bits
there’s ol’ property lines datin back to god knows when, with grass growin’ over ‘em
an’ nobody payin’ ‘em much mind anymore
i figure if i did cross a line back then
go from ten
to bein’ a woman
it wasn’t nothin’ obvious
maybe somethin’ like dreamin’ ‘bout how there’s a fence ‘round a field
an’ then it’s gone, an’ there’s just the field, all wide open
an’ now, with him talkin’ ‘bout nothin’ but chains an’ tearin’ clothes off my back
i’m thinkin’ maybe i shoulda never mentioned bein’ ten
maybe i shoulda never brought ‘er up
‘cause i dunno what to do with ‘er
an’ i sure as hell don’t like what he wants to do with ‘er
with seein’ her in me
an’ it’s one thing, her poppin’ up appropriate
like bein’ wonder-filled at the sight o’ things only a ten year ol’ can see
but it’s quite another, her showin’ up in the mornin’
an’ me bein’ in bed with a man
‘cause me bein’ ten
an’ her bein’ a woman
is like two songs playin’, at the same time
two different songs that don’t go together
an’ listenin’ to ‘em makes your skin crawl
so ya make up a third song
that’s louder than the other two
an’ covers ‘em up
that’s about as much sense as i can make out of it all
i guess the heart o’ the trouble is not knowin’
me bein’ ten
or a woman
either one
or both
is just somethin’
i don’t know
too
much
about
c.MarleneAzoulai1999
Thursday, March 3, 2011
SPIRIT CLAW
(photograph)
In some of my assemblage sculptures, i use bones, skulls, teeth, feathers, claws...In doing so, i am honoring the spirits of the wild creatures. Our ancestors of the animal kingdom.
I spent a long time, listening to and speaking with, this claw. I held it ever so gently, in the palm of my hand, revering this creature's ability to fly. This being, who had had a blessed life on earth. I brought the claw to my lips, and kissed it. I ran it along my cheek, to feel its roughness. And i took many photographs. I feel blessed to have been gifted with this one.
Blessed Be
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