POV; Tongues Untied

…bredszheb i'r ostainle, Rochorodol wynau, Chisuriliol gychtodol yw chrylladur Cwych电ar. Chapter one. Chapter one. Chapter one. Dotty. Whay o beulag i antimitaol femaledaadan.

Whllell? Whic o beulag. Whalebils! Whalebs son o'n rhan. Mot'n bygwaddi han, santeb Whish gwaith i? I will swallow that hurt and should i speak of it? We'll vocalize only the anger saying I should have bused out his fucking windows. Some of the anger will be exercised but the hurt which has not been given voice, prevails and accumulates. Silence is a way to grin and bear it. A way not to acknowledge how much my life is discounted each day. ق Ac hon'n ni, classic inherently yma et happening ffordor, bairdor centen, bairdor centen, bairdor centen, hah ddGreg o eich devastatedio ASD

yn symbol ac mae'r rhag, ac yn y gall ddiun ac tun ymyseth am pass Prince ac yna gaelscream yma, ac thymg dwy nakodden ac yn beroth awkward trwy ddi symud a ll wrygyngor angen ni defnydyn ar y mynd ydi sylfa i os suspicioni va hoi nasi دi Weledol ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― It's naturenought ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ―― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― ― I am my sword.

It cuts both ways. Silence is the deadliest weapon. What legacy is to be found in silence? How many lives lost? What future lies in our silence? How much history lost? Socieductive its grip. This silence... Break it. I'll silence the town. Just defend. Bet in the silence baby. Together. Now? Now. That I have set up with death. Held its hand. Rocked it. Grieved its giggle, mocking me to stones. Too big to pass alone. Now. That I have mourned the passing of men. Loves. Never had. Acts. Unacted. Perversion. Perversion belighted pubesantly. Now. That I have shed shades of nigger. Boy.

For pigments of faggot. Queer. Gender. Blender. Blur. Now. That I am very freaky. Free. Initiate me. Paint wars on my cheeks. Annoyed me with cocoa oil and com so I speak in tongues. Twisted so tight they untangle my mind. Hold my head in hand. Blessed. Slice it. Leave a cross on its tip. Mark of the right. Initiation. To the fight. You've reached. Black. Che. Your heart. Black. Black. Black. Black. Black. Black.

Black. Black. Black. Your heart line to the best black numbers. Want to connect with a banger boy. Press one. For versatile butch queen. Press two. Or looking to commit mind and body to a B. G. A. Press three. Don't be a shy guy. Make a choice and meet that special man. Good choice. Now leave a message. You have a minute. After the beep. B. G. A. Black gay activist. Third-ish. Well-read. Sensitive. Profeminist. Seek same for envelope licking. Flyer distribution. Battery assembly. Demonstration companion. Dialogical theorizing. Good times and hot safe sex. Why do we go home alone?

Clutch pillows and journals and single beds. Push ourselves to the inf degree for the cause. If we can't reap the benefits. I do not want to wet the movement. Do you? In the silence, baby. We could make a serious revolution together. I was riding on the S2 headed to Silver Spring. The bus for most of the ride had been filled with the quiet murmur of the other passengers. Suddenly, from the back of the bus, a voice rose and wailed. You my bitch. We are bitches. I turned around, looked at the back of the bus. There were two brothers going at it. You listen here. I ain't wearing lipstick. You are.

I ain't no bitch. I fucked you. You my bitch. This continued without resolution until we arrived at 16th and you street. The bus is packed with passengers by now. And as we approach the stop, I see ten more waiting to step aboard. Just as the first person steps aboard a strident hysterical voice shouts from the back. I'm a 45-year-old black gay man who enjoys and enjoys taking, taking his rest of him. I'm not your bitch. You bitches at home with your kids. We are now entering the fifth dimension of our sexual consciousness. The ride is rough. There is no jelly for this. We heard about this new club, so a few of us decided to check it out. Got there earlier around ten. Thinking if it was tired, we could always hit bellers by midnight. We must have waited in line at least 15 minutes.

All the while the door man missed attitude and you know the type. Bleached blonde hair, body-bidenautilus, mined by Mattel. Miss bitches watching us. Ten black men show up and they get paranoid the place is gonna tilt. We finally get to the door and things says with much condescension. You know there's a cover to get in. Well, I try to ignore her rudeness and then she shot her arm out. I need to see three pieces of ID. I thought this shit was through. I just turned around and looked this and dead in the eye. Three pieces of ID. She didn't know what hit her. We took our money and left. The next day I reported that dive to the mayor's office, the Human Rights Commission, the NAACP,

and the Alice B. Tockless Democratic Club. Don't mess with a snap diva. This is a basic lesson. Listen up to this grand diva. Snaps can be a lot and snaps can be a lot. To read, to punch you, to cut, to cut like a white man. Well, you've got a domestic snap. You've got a snap. Then you've got grand diva snap. Don't get it twisted.

Our dueling grand, the snap divas, will now demonstrate. The subtleties are snap, snap, snap. The diva red initiates. Precision, pacing, placement, white, a sophisticated snap, snap, snap. There's more than just noise. Repeat, precision, voice, placement. You must perfect each for the grand snap statement. You should know that girls should be ambidextrous. You can't stop with both hands. You know how we do this? Because we can't always get our arms free to do this. I heard my calling by age six. We had a word for boys like me.

Punk. Punk. Not because I played sex with other boys. Everybody on the block did that. Punk. But because I didn't mind giving it away. Now, other boys traded. You can have my boot if you give me yours. But wait a minute now. If I go first, I'll you go first last time. But I want to be the daddy. You the daddy all the time. But I want to be daddy. Not me. I gave it up free. Punk. At age 11, we moved to Georgia. I graduated to new knowledge. Homo. You don't know how to kiss? Homo. His friend asked shocked. I didn't know what to do with a girl when I lost that spin the bottle. Homo. I'll show you, he said. His brown eyes inviting. We practiced kissing for weeks. Dry wet French. Till his older brother called us a name. Homo. What's a Homo? I asked. Punk.

Faggot. Freak. I understood. We stopped kissing. Yes, friend became worst enemy. Motherfucking King. H12. They bust me to Hebsen, Virginia, high on the outskirts of Augusta. Motherfucking King. A spray painted sign on the wall greeted me. Niggas. Go home. The red necks hated me. Motherfucking King. Because I was one of only two blacks placed in 8A. The class for Hebsen was best and brightest. Niggas. Go home. The blacks hated me. Uncle Tom. Because they assumed my class status made me uppity. I assumed my silence as superiority. Uncle Tom. I was shy. Motherfucking King. Uncle Tom. I was confused. Motherfucking King. Uncle Tom. Niggas. Go home. I was afraid. And alone. Motherfucking King. Uncle Tom. Faggot. Niggas. Go home. Motherfucking King. Uncle Tom. Faggot. Niggas.

Go home. Corned. I wasn't afraid. Peers. My identities didn't like it. I was a victim of that habit. It looks pretty violent. Iedd, a unexpected veggies Edinburgh Roedd. Tao possibly felly, sydd sead'r tra interpretation. Hdw i'n babddui gwybod Chwins gaelachus i gyfordhinra façoa doe wal dder Francis.

B Mas yn euddill yna â'r dilekwy. Iedd. Mae'n iau цел mae'n iaffrefumodeth. Call wastio anywno arall, bydw ghor geidol eddi DMRt�� Oll maskrasa, whelau eu'r estimate ESU, o ffithio gan yw gwther iкиd, Daddyg i'n oem oeddwnwch塵ft 100°C Gigadon noodhead atirgag am ar Further Aye' lol Hiwch chw Shel Adolf Чrardus Maelenョ ffrain, o dominated

Fellyдеu Mae aorlaid a' bryd ymmgbtis gyndang". neatly a'r cefnau unigという oed a angry mo at clim gyfo tr fas, a myth of life, Petru darol o fwchau mae rwy'n wneud. Ae בא, a fwawn wedi wedi'i fy unig ti'n roed awn hyn o o d feedysg. I'm the first time Ever I fall Do you want to fall? Won't you tell me now? If you want to fall Let me show you how Do you want to fall to me? Can you fall to fall to me?

In California I learned a touch and taste of snow Cruising whiteboys I played meddwl, it'r eti chi'n Conversakwy. Mae — sheds, thirst y nis, Pump pumpkins. Mae Mistressaidd yn i'r��ita odbiddian yn Drumslof. Mae Mistressaidd yn corps yn eti chi. Mae Mistressaidd yn eti chi. Mae Mistressaidd yn eich beth oeduawnig. mynds, a f unbeyir yörl a'r prynarlda Ll鬼 mewn. Mae'r hydraond amazing serigateth yn gyfer WiFimatau. a yo'r intra. Hadeau'r lla Goodnight and Bill. Oer y Gain Day. Diolch lofnag ym i'r我们elrow o wneadau sy'n gwnddd yn gweld aposens D會 a bod sy'i diadau' n sy'n gwaethau un mael polynomio var feithw��iau Clefnag Aethau,

gan yой dd Welna Dרטw I fan trwy. Hadeest, ku'r gerół, pweld gwneud gwneud pwyfly. Hadeest, pweld gwneud gwneud gwneud. Hadeest, pweld gwneud yig yn gobyn, fy gynest, befand mewn yng Nghymgr'r gwneud hynvenny, I was intent on the search for my reflection, love, affirmation in eyes of blue grey green. Searching, I discovered something I didn't expect, something decades of determined assimilation cannot blind me to. In this great gay mecca, I was an invisible man. I had no shadow, no substance, no place, no history, no reflection. I was an alien, unseen and seen, unwanted. Here, as in Hebsibah, I was in Nidah, still.

I quit the Castro, no longer my home, my mecca, and went in search of someplace better. I don't know why, but I'm feeling so sad, I long to find something I've never had, never had no kisses. Oh, what I've been missing, love a man, where can you be? The night is cold and I'm so all alone. I'd give my soul just to call you now, that a moon above me, but no one to love me, love a man, where can you be?

The night is a glare of my true love's hair, his face so soft and won't respect. Grief is not a peril, not like a dress, a wig, or my sister's high heeled shoes. It is darker than the man I love, who in my fantasies comes for me in a silver six cylinder chariot.

I walk the waterfront kerbsides, and my sisters high heeled shoes, dreaming of him. His name still unknown to my tongue, while I wait for my prince to come from every other man, I demand pay for my kisses. I buy paint for my lips, stockings for my legs, my own high heeled slippers and dresses that become me. When he comes, I will know how to love his body, standing out here on the waterfront kerbsides. I have learned to please a man, he will bring me flowers, he will bring me silk and jewels. I know, while I wait, I'm the only man who loves me, they call me star, because I listen to their dreams and wishes.

But grief is darker, it is a wig that does not rest gently on my head. So blood is covered, on my true love's head, on my true love's head, on my true love's head. On my true love's head, on my true love's head, on my true love's head. Abomination, it's an abomination, mankind shall not lie with mankind for it is an abomination in his sight.

They say, we're all the same, we should be brothers, but before I accept his kinship, political or otherwise, this is what I want to know. Where does this loyalty lie? Yo, what kind of role model is a punk anyway? There is no crevice, there is no corner, in God's shirts, a fall, perversion, priorities. That's why I want to know, come to the final fell down, whether it's the first, black or gay. You know the answer, the absurdity of that question, how can you sit in silence? How do you choose one eye over the other, this half of the brain over that, or in words this brother might understand which does he value most? His left nut or his right, tell him. Silence is my shield.

It crushes. God gave man a holy purpose. Yes he did, to be that future generations, but the homosexual defile his seed. We need strong black men, before the father black family, now the homosexual help this agenda. In fact, a punk is a punk, I don't want them around me or my kids, period. Silence is my cloak. It's mothers. Don't you think that God don't see the wickedness of this world? He knows, he watches, he punishes. Yeah man, like this ancient, all the innocent victims, man, mommas and babies dying because of dope fiends and faggots. Faggots aren't allowed to look at my ass while I'm on sale.

That's why I keep moving while I'm up there. You don't know where the faggots section is, you got to keep moving. So if they do see it as quick and you switch it, they don't get no longer staring at your shit. Silence is my soul. It cuts. Oh, waves. This is the view of our most talented tenth, the movers and shakers, the image makers, consider the millions, who follow their lead. It's not like having a nation of fags looking for you. Their jokes, their laughter, form a course of content. Each joke levels us a little more and we sit silently.

Sometimes join in the laughter as it deep down we too believe. We are the lowest among the low. No one will redeem your name, your love, your life, your manhood, but you. No one will save you, but you. Your silence is constant. Your silence is suicide. From thought on your end, the moral, the sand and the friendship fool. I said to you, but you said, oh, chill, oh, chill. For these so low, my little man, you should have cast nothing of the guy to the game. I don't know what he used to be a man. Thought of me is sin! And you know what, the waves just exist. Double, double, double, double, double, double. Double, double, double, double, double, double, double, double, double, double, double, double. I know the anger that lies inside me.

Like I know the beat of my heart and the taste of my spit. It is easier to be angry than to hurt. Anger is what I do best. It is easier to be furious than to be yearning easier to crucify myself than you. Than to take on the threatening universe of whiteness by admitting we are worth wanting each other. I too know anger. My body contains as much anger as water. It is the material from which I have built my house. Blood red bricks that cry in the rain. It is the face and posture I show the world. It is the way sometimes the only way I am granted audience. It is sometimes the way I show affection. I am angry because of the treatment I am afforded as a black man. That fiery anger is stoked additionally with the fused of contempt and despisal shown me by my community because I am gay. I could not go home as who I am.

When I speak of home, I mean not only the familial constellation from which I grew but the entire black community. The black press, the black church, black academicians, the black literati and the black left. Where is my reflection? I am most often rendered invisible, perceived as a threat to the family or I am tolerated if I am silent and inconspicuous. I cannot go home as who I am and that hurts me deeply. On another day I am walking down Spruce Castro Christopher Street on my way to work. A half block away walking towards me is another black gay man. We see each other in the clubs. Side by side at the precise moment our eyes should meet. He studies the intricate detail of a building. I check my white sneakers for scuff marks. What is it that we see in each other that makes us avert our eyes so quickly? Do we turn away from each other in order not to see our collective anger and sadness? It is my pain I see reflected in your eyes.

Our anger is ricocheted between us, like the bullets we fire in battles which are not our own nor with each other. The same angry face, dawn for safety and the white world, is the same expression I bring to you. I am cool and unemotional, distant from what I need most. It is easier to be furious than to be yearning. Easier to crucify myself than you. And perhaps easiest to ingest that anger until it threatens to consume me or apply a south of substitutes to the wound. But real anger accepts few substitutes. And smears its sublimation, the anger hurt I feel can't be washed down with a coke or a coke 45. It cannot be danced away, modified by a white lover no lost in the mirror reflections of a black lover. I cannot hope it will be gobbled up by the alligators on my clothing. Nor can I lose it in therapy, that I cannot offer it to geesus. Ala aja! So I must mold and direct that fiery cool mass of angry energy. Use it before it uses me. Enga invent it becomes pain, unspoken becomes rage, release, becomes violence, chachacha.

Enga invent it becomes pain, unspoken becomes rage, release, becomes violence, chachacha. Enga invent it becomes pain, unspoken becomes rage, release, becomes violence, chachacha. Enga invent it becomes pain, unspoken becomes rage, release, becomes violence, chachacha. ...no o roا ei si unw angg honor banc maeds Ianc, a rydyn sy'n yn gallu add respitech ynwa也 iawn …To a gyda fel enreraidais yma, drwychael unw i'n gwlawotted a' beth i sem hw indispensable

drwy奇, bud Ministrian. g單 saurur oerpie? Oer purfaj zaint i ryffu? Waib enthysi gy limpaz ydader. Ar eu cwell i i amlygu. Fngar de Grois beth, zuog fel ac M olunag, whyg y go grabg. 待nos wedi hollcial sy'i gweld! A tutu-niag fawgginaw y matacht. Mynd gynni? Magu ac amd arcyclat beth o'ng ll鼓. Yang arall fod yn ynn条? Markbrew cynnwadau yn yr yad yn ganee Greedfllad yn yr i gwaelод. Witch Subscribe'n Ysg intellectual of Lain Groudys — So First, Reach, Pole, Graben, and Maximus Arethmos yd Comellus!? Start from 4D. Starting from 5D. Houdid ar hon ag i pwyás yn yn ôl. Bé'n ychyd i am ystig ym fill ol gydol a mewn fan ysteredio Giganticat mewn gweith hon ag i dziehol omen. I am fi Chiotig meddwl ond yw, wardad yna pwysig a Myndorch.

Ryd Wthwyd, it'n ar Llwyed hwn. a hyn. A fel yw oedon gydyn يromodd yn hyn oме teiz�� gesamyn oedon gydyn yma. Aeth, sicro goed aethau sefynill – Waters.

Mae'r 1 Gelf gorau roeddwn wedi'r gynau a unredd yma oetennio unid, well, am ei wastai'r ffordd o gywallau eraid beten daeggoedd gyiad. Mae'r boedd, Buddhi leid o foГillryn i ddonf Moariff sy-85, yn i wneud ni'n daeggoedd gwiaith i byd いoli bod daeg godnadau yng Nevertheless, unei oeddegol�, eu pew i le Chino a… yma no i chino. Mae'r boeddwn' i Strawberry. a tu, wneileg, yw nodul. Rdho eich bineb ac sang unveiled addiesyddion. Break OVER 5 A tu wediwedd a mynd i-ja wedi terrateaud. Ro! Doornot, ro! Regai chi'n baga'r bodwardach chi a ff cheating tres. Pateau tro captherana bineb. Una, yna ff mwybindu. Boorio, a trappu bonig yn di un an Though. Mother, do you know I roam alone at night, wearing colones, tight pants, chains of gold, searching for men willing to come back to candlelight. I'm not scared of these men, those sun or killers of suns like me.

I learned there is no tender mercy for men of color for suns who love men like me. Do not feel shame for how I live. I chose this tribe of warriors and outlaws. Do not feel you failed some test of motherhood. My life is born fruit. No woman could have given me anyway. If one of these thick, lit, wet, black nights while I'm out walking, I find freedom in this village. If I can take it with my tribe, I'll bring you here and you will never notice the absence of rice and bridesmaids. Do not feel shame for how I live.

Do not feel shame for how I live. Do not feel shame for how I live. Do not feel shame for how I live. How ironic that dance, my ticket to assimilation, my way of amusing, then winning acceptance by white. How many of us have followed that the same steps were now my passage back home.

Anthropology, unending search for what is utterly precious. I'm chocolate candy, a handful of cookies, the goodies you are forbidden to eat. I'm a piece of cake, a slice of pie and ice cream bar that chills your teeth.

Think of me as your favorite treat, a pan of popcorn kernels waiting for the heat. Exiting the John, I checked the mirror for the face of naked lust. His eyes howl at me, coyote separated from the roving peck. Love potions solve mysteries, provide no comment on the unspoken. Our inhibitions force us to be equal.

We swallow hard black love potions from a golden glass. New language beckons us its dialect present intimate through my eyes. Focus this pure naked light, fixed on you like magic, clarity. I see risks, regrets, there will be none. Let's some wonder, some worry, some accuse. Let you and I know the tenderness only we can bear. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it.

Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it.

Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it.

Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it.

Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it.

Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it.

Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it.

Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it.

Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it.

Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it.

Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it.

Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it.

Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it.

Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it. Let's do it.

Let's do it.