aņa delovejevna (![[info]](http://klab.lv/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} deloveja_kundze) rakstīja,@ 2016-06-05 22:49:00 |
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| Entry tags: | teksts |
es joprojām līdz galam nezinu, ko nozīmē ''Lemonade'' - tik vien kā to, ka tas ir ļoti nozīmīgs pavērsiens tajā jomā, ko es tā kā pētu. (bet, godīgi sakot, man šodien vairs pat nebija ne jausmas, par ko īsti es rakstu) taču es tikko atradu to tekstu transkriptu, ko Beyonce saka starp dziesmām, tekstu autore ir Warsan Shire.
(un, neraugoties uz to, ka es esmu ļoti, ļoti nogurusi, man rīt ir jāiesniedz maģ darbs, ko man vairs nav spēka vispār skatīties, un mani ir pārņēmušas pārpasaulīgas skumjas un apātija, kas drošvien ir saistāms ar to, ka smadzene ir vienkārši uzkārusies, es lasu šos tekstus un pat tā kā jūtos pārsteidzoši aizkustināta. tā līdz asarām. bet, iespējams, tas ir arī saistāms ar to, ka šodien kārtējo reizi izdomāju, ka vajadzētu kaut ko pašai sākt darīt, ne tikai kūrēt un pētīt. bet es to arī izdomāju tik daudz reizes iepriekš, un es šodien Džimam stāstīju vēl vienu ideju, ko atkal biju izdomājusi no nulles, bet Džims atgādināja, ka esmu to jau iepriekš izdomājusi. kaut kādos lokos pašas atmiņas un domas iet, un tam nav nekāda sakara vairs ar šiem tekstiem, tik vien kā tas, ka galva pilna ar abiem.)
"Denial"
I tried to change. Closed my mouth more, tried to be softer, prettier, less awake. Fasted for 60 days, wore white, abstained from mirrors, abstained from sex, slowly did not speak another word. In that time, my hair, I grew past my ankles. I slept on a mat on the floor. I swallowed a sword. I levitated. Went to the basement, confessed my sins, and was baptized in a river. I got on my knees and said 'amen' and said 'I mean.'
I whipped my own back and asked for dominion at your feet. I threw myself into a volcano. I drank the blood and drank the wine. I sat alone and begged and bent at the waist for God. I crossed myself and thought I saw the devil. I grew thickened skin on my feet, I bathed in bleach, and plugged my menses with pages from the holy book, but still inside me, coiled deep, was the need to know ... Are you cheating on me?
Cheating? Are you cheating on me?
"Anger"
If it's what you truly want ... I can wear her skin over mine. Her hair over mine. Her hands as gloves. Her teeth as confetti. Her scalp, a cap. Her sternum, my bedazzled cane. We can pose for a photograph, all three of us. Immortalized ... you and your perfect girl.
I don't know when love became elusive. What I know is, no one I know has it. My father's arms around my mother's neck, fruit too ripe to eat. I think of lovers as trees ... growing to and from one another. Searching for the same light.
Why can't you see me? Why can't you see me? Why can't you see me? Everyone else can.
"Accountability"
You find the black tube inside her beauty case where she keeps your father's old prison letters. You desperately want to look like her. You look nothing like your mother. You look everything like your mother. Film star beauty. How to wear your mother's lipstick. You go to the bathroom to apply your mother's lipstick. Somewhere no one can find you.
You must wear it like she wears disappointment on her face. Your mother is a woman and women like her cannot be contained. Mother dearest, let me inherit the earth. Teach me how to make him beg. Let me make up for the years he made you wait. Did he bend your reflection? Did he make you forget your own name? Did he convince you he was a god? Did you get on your knees daily? Do his eyes close like doors? Are you a slave to the back of his head?
Am I talking about your husband or your father?
