The date for the end of the world was chosen arbitrarily …
A woman is not necessarily a good Muslim just because she follows her society’s ideologies. A female boxer who eschews her society’s ideologies of shame, can still be a devout Muslim …
A summer Saturday night at 926 Bar & Grill was the first night I laid eyes on you.
I was sipping a whiskey sour
As you sat there bald and baby-faced watching Futurama on the HD TV…
You look sexy behind that counter of cold, packed meat,
6 to12 inches of wheat and white bread.
I watch your lips move as you
Ask if I want mayonnaise, mustard
On the foot-long turkey.
The bacon sizzles in a silver pot on a spiral top that burns
To a tangerine orange beneath sweet cabbage.
Turn that stove down low, boy!
Purchased her cheaply at the Food Emporium last night.
Freezer door ajar.
Dig past thighs of chicken,
bottle of Vodka,
to get to her.
won’t have it any other way.
Between two unfeeling pieces of bread,
Stuck in mayo like tires stuck in mud,
Smeared onto mustard.
TV Dinner is a modern symbol/icon of the often oppressive constraints of gender roles and life as a housewife in the 1950s.
My Aunt Earline is heaven.
Could teach them bakers at Piccadilly’s a thing or two.
She’s as sweet as the cakes she makes.
I choose to sit
in the arse indentation
near the deep fryer…
A romp through the playground that encompasses sexuality and the viewer’s gaze…
Close to 2 a.m., in a tiny cabin of a dorm in south Paris — there was nothing glamorous about it. An empty wine bottle on the floor. Microwaved meals on the table. Scouring our old Word documents for decent writing, bickering over edits …
The commodification of hip-hop thereupon leads to a watering down of its content. As corporations try to capture as much of the market as possible, they ‘tone down’ hip-hop’s radical aspects to make it as palatable for consumers as possible …
You overslept. Wakey wakey. Out your bed you go. Your hair is a mess. Snap. Mild headache. You hobble over to the mirror, to see yourself. What do you see? …