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I'm Not Afraid Of The Dark
#53

"Queen Beast"c

I have Always Wondered
What it would be like
to be a Gay White Male....

I Much Imagine Me
and my Upwardly Mobile
Testosterone Teammates
going out to Fire Island
for the weekend

and lying Nude along some
sandy Meat-Rack
to let the Sun fry
some Brown
onto Our Fish-Belly-White Asses ......NOT that
We have a Problem Being Caucasian
or Anything like that
I mean

We Have Black Frlends, too, l mean
We Don't Have Any of That White Guift Stuff
or Anything like that
I mean

Being Gay,
We're all Oppressed Together
so We all have to Stick Together,
so We all have to look the same
so We All Have to Be Correct
about How
Those Fucking Heteros
SEE Us,
I mean
We DO have on image to Keep Up
We Do have a Status to Maintain
We MUST FIGHT for Just the Right
Picture of OURSELVES
Because
We Have to Prove to Them
that We're Normal too
That We're Normal, Too!

(It's Not Normal Not To)

It's Not Normal Not To
It's Not Normal to Not Care About
Having The Fine Things In Life
I mean Everybody Wants The Fine Things In Life
I mean
Everybody Want Love
Everybody Want Sex
Everybody Want Money
(L o ve....)
E V E RY B O D Y
( sex....)
W A N T
(every Body...)
M 0 N E Y
And I just want what's Mine
I just Want What's Mine That I want
l just Want What's Mine That I want Which is Mine That I
Want
That's Mine That I Want What I Want When
I Want it
SO B A D
I'll even Stab You In the Back Bitch
You Cheap, Tacky Ho' Bitch, I know
You want What's Mine!

Fuck You!
He's Mine!
Fuck You!
it's My Money!
And I will stand by
what's mine in the crumbling
what's mine in the Destruction
what's mine in the Exploding Kingdoms of Rust
in These Kingdoms of Dust
I'm Sucking
Sucking the last Precious Wisps
of Breath from Your gasping Lips
I am Licking it Up
Licking Up the Scraps I am Rabid
and Viciously Fighting for
the Last of You
That's Mine,
Sucking the Last Bitter Wisps of Breath
from Your Trembling Lips I
have always Wondered
what It would be like
to Be a Gay Black Male...

.......I much imagine me,
and My Girlfriends
Down by The Piers
Brother 2 Brother
(or
Sistah 2 Sistah )
rolling Out the Rap
of Oppression from Our Thick Monkey Lips
while we Twirl our Big Black Dongs Around
Our Legs and Thighs and Feet
to the Simian Beat of Patti LaBelle
to the Jungle Drums of Aretha Franklin
To the Disco Divas
We Worship so Well.
Swishing and Dishing
and a Diddy Biddy Bop to the Hippity HOP-HOPI
         (You Don't Stop)
HEY!
        (You Don't Stop Hating)
and a Diddy Biddy Bop to the Flippity Flop-Flop!
        (You Won't Stop)
HO!
        (You Won't Stop Hating)
and We'll Read Them Three Shades of the Color Purple,
Girl!
We'll Read Them Lovely!
We'll Read These S A D White Children
Outnumbering Us on Every Occasion
at Every Grand Function of Every Persuasion.... They
Seem to be Sadly Lacking Thus
while Sadly, Thus, Outclassing Us....
Now You Just Know
We Can't Live That Shit Down
I mean
We Shall Overcome,
Baby,
Fight the Power
and
Power to The People
Baby;
the Black Man is an Icon for Power
Oppressed by the White Man's Money and the
White Man's Inferior Penis
which seems to be Why He gives
The Afrikkkan-American Communities
Lip Service.
They like the Taste of Our Big Black Power
and Our Sacrificial Black Behinds Make Quite The Tasty Sacred Beef
They Worship It, Choking and Gagging.... They like the Taste of Our Salty White Guilt
as We shoot Us Some Nasty Nigger Coon Cum
up their Creamy Tight White and Puckering Prostrate
Pussy-Holes
as They lap it up
Eagerly Throathing Our Power as We give Them Our Evil Black Seed
Giving Away Our Power
in a Final Frustrating Blast of Gonad Glory
as We become Enslaved
yet again
Accessory and Accoutrements to
the Whim and Fancy of the
White Man's Inferior Penis
We Must Fight the Power by Mirroring it
the Black Man is an lcon for Power
if only the Black Man
could convince the White Man
if only the Black Man could
Convince Himself .........

I have Always Wondered
what it Might be Like
to be
a Lovely Queen Beast
Flaming My Faggoty Flower and Fauna,
Exhaling My BathHouse Breath like a Sauna
Living from My Anus, Always Eager to be Filled
Living from My Throat coated with HIV+ Semen
Dreaming the Dark Dream
Living for the Kill
Crawling to the Feast of Flesh
that's Throbbing
North of Houston
South of Fourteenth Street
West of Seventh Avenue
And I would be SO FIERCE ..... It Would OVER I have Always Wondered
What it could Be Like to Be
    A
        Vicious
                    QUEEN BEAST!

....I Much imagine Me
Coming Out
into an Eternal Weekend
of Fridays,Saturdays and Sundays
with my Freshly Dripping
Put-On Face
putting on an Act
for the Children
who'd be Pumping
House Music from Their
blaring Butt-Holes and Then I
Really would Be Doing Shows
as The Music would get My Titties Bumping
with The Bass which would get My Booty Jumping,
clogging my ears In Clotted Chunks
as I stumble In My Pumps
It would make Miss Kitty's
Kitty Bump
(I t    M a k e s   M y    P us s y    P u m p !)
And then My Thoughts
would be Crowded Out to Logic
and I would be on a Mission, Girl!
And In This Divine Disco Inferno my skin would start to smoke
'cause my pussy would be so Hot
and It would begin to blister and bulge
and crack and peel away
to reveal my Beastly Leathery New Scales,
Hot and Slimy, in the Fresh Snot of Birth
and
I would Open Up My Mouth
to Read that
Tacky Tramp over there Who Tried to Take My Man
and my teeth would rain bloody
chunks from my Whore-Red Lips
in thick Scarlet Spittle
and I would Wince
agonizing as my gums
itching and burning with Feverish Madness,
would split from root to tip
and Sprout
Fresh White Fangs
which would gleam pointedly
In the surrounding Light
I would try to block from my
twisting
pulsing
Shifting Face .......
And Then
I would See Me a Man, a Hot Man, walking about all
Fleshy
and Sweaty and Manly,
and I
being The Queen, the Fashion Beast of the Decade,
would Draw Him to me,
and because He Is Vaingloriously Blind He can't possibly See
my True Beastly Self
because He is a Beast, too...
and mistakes my stink-stenched rags for Fashion
and mistakes my brutal body odor for After-Shave Musk
and like a Car I can Start Him Up
and like a Light I can Turn Him On
and like a Cake I can Have Him and Eat Him, tool ;
And He tastes Delicious, I might add!
His Gonads are Crunchy
and Taste Exquisite with Grey Poupon,
and His hardened Penis makes a Juicy Tidbit
I shall save for later
I shall exalt the flavor
I shall savor it
inhaling Its Aroma with my hairy, flaring, runny nostrils
and I shall Bite Him In the Rump
tear fatty chunks
of Ass Meat free
with my Slicing, Ripping, Slashing Teeth
and nibble on the delectable morsels of His
fingers, feet, nose, hair and skin
and Gobble Them All Up
swiftly, --without Belching!
--------------------(I am Far too Queenly for such Distaste)--------------------------
His entrails are,
By Far,
the Yummiest yet
and are filled with Occasional Pockets of shit
which must be eaten quickly
lest they attract Flies
(A Queen should NEVER have to SHARE Her Platter)
His Torso, rippled with bulging muscles and beaded
with droplets of salt-sweet sweat
I Fear
has been spoiled in its Perfection
with My gougings and
Bloody Bite Marks as I gnaw Him
Down to the crunchy white bone,
Snacking on His Delicious Internal Organs
while wiping and licking the bloody julce from My Lips and Fingers ....
It is a Fiendish Act
of Unspeakable Greed.... ...
I know...
and I can neither pause for pity/nor care,-----nor help myself
but I am least Honest at My Candor
In my confession
that I am Pure Consumer,
and His Broken Heart and Broken Dreams Do Not
Concern Me...
For there is out
in the Place of
Faggots who Fight for their "Rights"
to Fuck each Other up the Ass and Suck each Other's
Penises
while A.I.D.S, picks Them Off
one by Horrified one,
a Sinister Invention
by which I entirely Profit
called Fashion
where Beauty,
(a chemically pre-packaged Retail Value on sale now!)
is just another additive
and preservative Ingredient
to spice the Flesh
to salt the Meat
which is, by Design,
Rancid to the Bone,
but Nevertheless I Hunger For...
And This Dark Art Bourne
Under the Bad Moon Blasting of Satan's Eyes,
Shining with Evil
can only push the Fatted Calves of Queer Nation
Deeper Into My Cupboards and Meatlockers
(into a Cold Clean Heaven)
While They,
weeping in Horror of their Bodies,
which have Blackened in Guilt
and Self-Disgust
Are willingly Deceived
Under My Slaughtering Blade of Ever-Mutating Desire
masked Attractively
in sleek Sexually stimulating
Advertising Campaigns
(Subliminal proclamation of Arrogant Emancipation,
Subliminal
Declaration of Pompous Independence
Subliminally Radiated
Isolation, Depression and Misery
Consume or Be Consumed,
Via Slavery By Consumption)
Ostensibly Advertising the Fine Things in Life
that every
Body wants
That's Normal
when it is not normal to not be fooled by the Sickness of such sin,
The World Made Flesh,
Where Savage, Beautific Beasts run Rampaging wild against
The Enemy of Time.
Those Who Cheat Death
Those Who Wait Death
Those Who Race Death
Where Monstrous Animals, such as Myself, are
too,
Damned by Insatiable Hunger
and Diseased by the Plagues of our own Self-Indulgence
We plead Insane Allegiance to the Crown Prince of Hell
blindly signing away Our Sanity
on Self-Destructing contracts to the
Booking Agents of the
Devil Himself,
sitting in His Director's Chair
in the Abyss called Hollywood,
an Insane Kingdom of Cheap Tricks and Tacky Glamour
Where We All
Eager for Recognition and Attention,
Play Our Parts frantically
When Lucifer Yells "Action'
to our pussies
and penises
knowing We are Beasts
knowing We are Damned
and Denying We have Elected Such
I have Always Wondered
what it would be Like
to be in Heaven
Singing with the Angels
Sinless and Pure
But Infernal Guilt traps Me in a Whirlpool of Fire
and around Me there are a Thousand Mirrors
Twisting My Reflection like a Funhouse Sickness
fragmenting My Clarity Into Confusion
and I scream Insanely at My reflecting Hideousness
weeping in Unspeakable Horror at My Disgusting Body
believing My Anger and Misery
will best be Freed from Me      By My Own Projection
as I become You
And You just don't live up to My Expectations
And You Keep Lying to Me
And You Keep Hurting Me
And You Keep making Me Angry
And You Keep Rejecting Me
And You Keep making Me Hurt You
And You Keep Critisizing Me
And
I Hate You!
I Hate You!
I Hate You!
and My
Reflection of You Shatters at My Attack
as Thousands of Pieces of Whirling Blame  e x p l o d e
and Fly Apart in My Face
And These Shining
Deadly
Spinning Shards
are sucked Breathlessly Back to Me
by My screaming Horrified Body
And I'm swallowed up Alive,
Ravaged in the Cyclone of Whirling Glass, Viciously.....
Cut Up and Bloodied to Pulp, Unmercifully,
Trapped by My Own Treachery,
Tricked by My Own Lies
And I may Hate being Weak and Sick and Afraid and think
my Denial will Conceal Me
And I may Hate being Hated and think
my Anger will protect Me
And I may hate being Alive and think Death
my Savior
but What I Truly Hate
is being Damned by the Truth
of knowing
that Only the Self-Accused Condemn

25-26, July 1992
Chinatown, NYC
                             Queen Beast, copyright 2005 F i n n e g a n