A Call For Submissions

Greetings family! The circle of griots at BlaQueerFlow are excited to announce a call for submissions. We are interested in poetry, prose, fiction, short stories and art. We are also increasingly interested in book /film/music reviews that touch upon the themes and topics of concern to the AfroLatinX & Queer/Woman of Color communities. Please note…

Hip Psalms

Dark and fat with star and misery she could not swallow me  into anonymity, hips swinging blacker than her Cosmos, smile brighter than Moons mighty, known and named Ancestors wrought my spine  Soul onyx with the remnants of shooting stars aiming for purpose found in my stride  Of black gumbo soiled through ivory incantations cross…

SkoolHaze is on that BEDA – Day 1 of 31

Originally posted on Skool Haze:
SkoolHaze is on that BEDA – Day 1 of 31 ============= What does that mean? BEDA means, Blog Every Day in August. I stole this whole concept from Evelyn of the Internets. She’s one of my long lost Internet cousins. You probably are too. Back in April she decided to…

10 Shots To Freedom: Alva Braziel & Amerikkkan Treatment

Image via ammoland.com (titled “America’s Gun Culture, We Are America”) 10 shots ran through the body of Alva Braziel because gun rights don’t apply to black and blackened bodies in these United States unless Of course, we are speaking About and traveling the tunnels Bullets Cut through black flesh undeterred by myths of law and…

This Is Not A Think Piece: Of Black Homes & Meccas & Cosmos

Some day we will go home, back to where we belong, back to that place we cannot articulate because human tongues have no memory of truth, of blissful vulnerability, of home where hatred is not as a common and expected as the morning dew, or mourning as routine as breathing, or lynching as common as air. Perhaps, home is where the heart is, or where it goes, when the body is no longer welcome and one’s nation is where hate is birthed, domiciled and groomed.

Moment of Birth (A Poem)

“I was a bloody, plastic, mess

they whispered tragedy over me,

but I was the closest thing

to God they’d ever seen –

my halo was fresh

I

woke up from death.”

HuffPost Review: Tabias Olajuawon Wilson Writes, Re-members BlaQueer Survival

The work is a tour de force if not for the sheer breadth of content, then for the refusal of its sweeping verse to comfort when comfort is not on the menu for the subjects at hand. It is more than unflinching—it unsettles, it bites, it scars, it lingers, and it loves, simultaneously in a language perfected by, common and accessible to those who have perfected the art of living while Black, BlaQueer or Queer….”

Energy Revisited (A Hip Hop Ode To Pulse & Orlando)

“and the Orisha got me covered
while you scheming to planning
shoot up the movie theater and shoot up a church
just when the wounds was healing its beginning to hurt
shoot at a black man and shoot up a club
when you niggaz gone take the blinders off
enough is enough”

Partial Justice (a poem)

Pieces of my me,littered about this apartment, seemingly organized into piles of too little, too much and other offending categories. My me, there! Sprinkled about like dirty laundry, soiled to the point behind tide and rolled up as a public display of what we’re not going to do. My me, circumcised and misread, from Kenta…

theft

“to be born
is to have ravished
a womb
with tepid consent.
Pay your debt
gently,
with your life.”
-theft