Kukeri

I.
The nocturne banes are still at work,
they whisper and I humbly listen:
friends are so deep in their trauma,
always the victims,
certainly having no mana,
and can't see
how their life plot
affects your drama,
oh, Mama!

When I speak my own truth
they get defensive
and
choo choo
board the bigotry train —

Some used to be homophobic,
now believe themselves free of the plague,
hiding their past
and all their mistakes
to perform honesty,
Mama…

This wasn’t a proper way to speak?

Should I be a good boy and suck that
while putting the bells on my back
to show you my teeth,
oh Kukeri!

Let’s not forget
the girl who
“wink wink”
in that sex space thought,
gay sex would smell;
I guess
she must’ve had a sensitive nose
and no shame…

But I do smell,
I haven't showered
in days, for fuck’s sake —
we all run for daddy capitalism.

Protect me, Kukeri
from friendly fire and purity!

To the bells, the teeth I add a frightful mask!

II.
Changing my voice to fit in,
not being loud
is now my new name,
civilized for the Germans
and their mind games —

Perhaps then
you'll stop thinking
he is a boxer;
he probably beats his wife
because he is fragile,
like one of those macho men
you bow your head down for.

But I don't know
if I’m even a man,
wrap your head around that refrain
and go clock that.

Should we now also mention trans rights?
Not for me, please,
but for others — I said?

What doctor would prescribe us honesty?

Don't get me started
on the “sensitive” boys:
they just have all kinds of different toys
to suppress women
and

others,

co-opting queerness
to use

others,

I mean abuse

others,

confuse

others,

submit

others —

They also tell me they’ve changed,
but I finally woke up,
chose violence,
and started the blame game.

Kukeri, let me unite with you
and shake the fear away!

III.
Choo choo,
they’re telling people to get on the train,
I mean THE train
that Deutsche Bahn operated for Nazis
and now I guess — liberal shame.

Speaking plainly
I'm sure words will be misconstrued
like Miss Nemahsis’s world;

Although in the Palestinian case,
the genocide is still happening,
the Armenian one
academics told me
did not happen.

Seeing the colonisers play pretend,
don't say their name,
because Germans are getting upset;
I mean they are direct,
or was it perhaps emotionally underdeveloped,
to consider your feelings —
or dare I say… just white?

Kukeri! Oh, Kukeri! Kukeri! Oh, Kukeri!
Let us all be free!

IV.
When you think you can accept soft and gentle,
you actually treat me like I'm precious?

Will you fuck me until I say “no stop”,
or will you keep going until I drop, dead —
is what Nazis want us to be.
Wait — is what we do even sex?
A pure pubescent cis het fantasy
is how you define it.
They say again we don't exist,
I'm getting tired; need a nap.

Sike, motherfucker — choke on a clit.
I hope you know where it's hid,
cause I hear women are tired
of you not getting it right.
Put a peppermint on your tongue before you dig in.
The dude likes it cold on his clit.
Come, babe — you can finally tap that,
before I drift into dreams —

V.

of a life that doesn't have me sell myself
for a company
that turns people
into numbers,
or wanting some joy
and some time
with my loved ones,
that this shouldn't be a bargain,
or even apply for a shelter.

Did my credit score suffice?
Can I rest now?
Can I let all my livid thoughts go
into space now,
and have peace,
gentle life,
some bread,
and my belly full of home?

VI.
I'm done now,
go live your lives and fuck off!
I mean
boundaries and all kind of therapy talk,
good-bye.
Not forever —
for now…
I'll be back.

I'm the genderqueer hag
coming for your spot!

Please save me
from the spectacle of tragedy,
oh, Kukeri!

All the categories above
you want me to navigate,
but I see —
I see —
I'm not any of that,

not enough of any,

but somehow —
always —
all that.