Showing posts with label love affair. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love affair. Show all posts

Friday, December 20, 2019

[White Phosphorus Tide] a poem





What a beautiful hint of white phosphorus you’ve become,
a whimsical of wonderful, postscript in poised counterpoint,
 unbound in an impress of literature bent there are still
 ampersand of lovers who’ve never known you somewhere along your point of gravity,
of toadies such-like in statis,
 unprivy to the seldom design of a woman womanizing
 the little girl inside that she once was-

-and since, tatters have flown with the slightest hint of breeze,
 as news articles thrown out with events no longer current,
 with the wretched who breathes only to know they will die well.

 With the fragmented things fallen away, I’ve become
 a mess of things who’ve made a mess of things,
 introduced chaos long before Pandora’s box shattered
 onto the impenetrable, flattened earth in awestruck carnal,
 love as deep and wide as the combustion of being that separates life and death.
Oh how to love this withered tree, I’ve taught you; it is from you I’ve learned to love and see a woman and we are at the center of it all


Dontrell Lovet't
-from [Leitmotif]

Monday, December 9, 2019

[The Lips Your Lips Have Kissed] a poem






I knew a woman,
as no one has ever known me-
voraciously vague, a noise
in her like the proud-Mary she grew
hearing winding up the Mississippi,
not so far off from where Miles
Davis grew hearing the music,
I hear tell

Wild plum still blossoms on
my lips from yours on mine,
all the tales of St.Louis a-rest
on this tongue,
erotic scribes, falling
leaves at autumn

-from [If It Be You]
by Dontrell Lovet't

[Nabokov's Synesthesia] an opinion on Vladimir Nabokov's [Lolita]






 Amongst the list of the Modern Library 100 Greatest novels is Vladimir Nabokov's 1955 controversial novel [Lolita.] The narrator, Humbert Humbert, a middle-aged literature professor becomes obsessed with the daughter of a woman he is renting a room from, 12 year old Dolores Haze. Set in 1947, while Humbert is working on a novel, he gradually is pulled into what he believes is no ordinary child due to her temerity and incendiary flirtatiousness. Many aware of Nabokov's remarkable works, have found pure obscenity in the subject matter of [Lolita] but there are many facts overlooked.

1: The character Humbert Humbert came of age in Europe and his creator, Nabokov, in Russia. The eras circa 1920's well into the 1960's children weren't considered merely children, but aware of life and life's facts. It was not uncommon for an older man to court a young girl or an older woman to court a young boy. Both the author and the character in his image were victims of their times, not aggressors.

2: Though Delores Haze "Lo," as Humbert Humbert endeared her, was 12 years old, the courting or sexual entanglement with her doesn't make Humbert a pedophile but more so an Ephebophile, or in latin, "a lover of adolescents."

3: In the opening of [Lolita] Humbert Humbert describes his upbringing and speaks of his first love, Annabelle. At 14, they fell in love and 4 months after, Annabelle died of Typhus. Humbert expressed that if  he had not fallen in love with Annabelle, he wouldn't have fallen in love with "Lo." Humbert even married once he became an adult but still sought out women who appeared young. This behavior may seem predatory to readers of today but with vision, we can translate the lingering, longing and yearning for his "paper womb" or a love equivalent to his most content time of his life. In theory, the day Annabelle died, so did Humbert and his aging and growth were all stunted; he as a man still trapped in a great adolescent love, forever destined to burn for it.

4: After he met and deceptively courted "Lo," during and even after he lost her, Humbert never sought out any other adolescents. Pedophiles tend to fall out of obsession with their victims when they grow older; Humbert wasn't affected in the least of her aging. He yearned for her and continued to love her, even took revenge against the man who stole her away from him during a cross-country roadtrip, Claire Cleary, the true pedophile, who recruited kids and filmed them during sexual acts.

If the reader of [Lolita] can identify with the facts of the life of Humpert Humpert and the times, they can take the time to read the most popular yet underrated novel due to "obscenity."

[The Light in You] a poem







Light may be perpetual in you,
in me,
the dark always finds a way inside.

Oh love,
I wish it weren’t so,
I wish I didn’t have to wake with fleshy wood to
abuse your venus till numb and unbearable,
the same person who loves your light
is the madman with murder in his heart,
 who all the same loving you,
envies your ability to be-

[How I Became Hers] a poem







I wanted only one thing;
that was the fire that burns bright between her legs;
to get it, I resorted to opening my heart,
to further open her thighs-

-it was then, that I became hers


-Dontrell Lovet't

Sunday, December 8, 2019

[Toulouse-Lautrec's Regular] Ladies & Gentleman, Suzanne Valadon














            There is no certainty many can draw from Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec’s portrait of Suzanne Valadon, alone, propped in ennui, at a table, a bottle of wine at both her leisure and sole company.

Is she a regular? In what Paris haunt does she meet the inebriate state she’s bound to meet? And if not that very state of intoxication, is she planning to meet another to replace that intoxication with momentary flames?

            So much can be drawn from a portrait, particularly one of a woman who mothered the great Montmartre artist Maurice Utrillo, at beck and call to Lautrec, to Jean Renoir, to Edgar Degas, all of which could have been the possible father of Maurice, who’d developed an abuse of his own for alcohol by the age of 10, presumably, at the very moment Lautrec’s brush made congress with canvas, could have been in the depth of his many wanderlusting fits, walking the streets of Paris, in utter displace of a boy of his age.

            But during that very portrait, Valadon has no interest in Maurice’s whereabouts, nor her own; she’s unkempt, she has shredded the beauty the myth of Art History has passed down to us as heirlooms; and where myth makes immortal, witnessing a vision in abstract depth reminds us that before immortality was conceived, flesh and blood, trial and tribulation, bludgeoning at the spearhead of blunt objects, strangulation by garrote, has all left their mark as to remind us, no one reaches a timeless time without their time in timeless torture.

-Dontrell Lovet't

[Attraction & Electricity]





  We all want that one love....the look across the room, capturing each other's eyes, not out of possession or sexual response alone, but a secret dimension only shared by two individuals attracted by a certain unique electricity.

 The flow of atoms stops, become suspended, inanimate, and suddenly explode but you both are motionless, speechless, drowning out whatever obsequious conversation being that holds you under siege. Of course you don't want to be rude but at that point it's no longer under your control. Your body then starts to burn as a phosphorous bulb, becomes unstable as sodium out of kerosene, You are hoping, begging that they break eye contact and at the same time, you're hoping that time can stop, just for that moment, and that moment could last forever, that that moment could be the story of you.


  Everything now is black and white, the room is still, even if you've been drinking, your lucidity is as though you've been drinking a Hemingway Cocktail, a death in the afternoon.....and that sums up your night, that time, that moment, that very single moment of death is a sweet one. Somehow you know, those long nights of watching Netflix alone will soon come to an end, writing blogs for the lonely hearts club, eating scrambled eggs, posting on Facebook hoping someone has the bad taste to text you back. Now someone will post statuses and innuendos about you, text you back, cuddle with you as you fall asleep watching documentaries on Netflix.

  Despite the intuition, despite the obvious burning like a roman candle a lit in your viscera, your legs don't agree with you and you're hoping that if you stand there, remain in full view, motionless, the urge shared between you two isn't as powerful as to cause them too to remain still. Humans crave affection, connection, it's innate, involuntary, a dimension like a sinkhole that refuses to release you, those boats against the tide that Fitzgerald spoke of and eventually, your arms gets tired, your body fatigued and who'll be there to save you from that inevitable sink?

.......they come over, that slow stroll that seems an eternity.

"I'm glad you are here tonight."


Dontrell Lovet't

Saturday, December 7, 2019

[Olga] Pablo Picasso's right-side immortal











          Anyone who has ever had the initiative to visit Paris, that is for its rich history as an artistic mecca, may have become familiar with the adoration of Parisiennes; Napoleon III and Olga Picasso, two, some would say, with as much inclination as the next, defined an era of art between Napoleon’s reign and Olga’s zenith.

          Born in the Russian Empire in 1891, in what is today Ukraine, Olga’s childhood ambition to be a ballerina was the very dream that brought her face to face with Pablo. Already making a name for himself as an artist, Picasso designed the costumes for [Parade], Sergei Diaghilev’s and Jean Cocteau’s collaborative ballet, which took center stage at the Theatre du Chatelet in Paris. And as classic Picasso, propelling charm, intelligence and the spell of the artist, Olga departed the touring ballet as she delved into a freefall love affair with Picasso, who invited her back to live with him in Paris upon their return from Barcelona that very year.

          Almost a year since the day they met, in 1918, Olga Khokhlova became Olga Picasso in the observation of Max Jacob and Jean Cocteau. While the Great War (the war to end all) was coming to a final yet destructive close and the Great Influenza became its predecessor, taking the life of both August and Rose Rodin, Olga became Pablo’s first wife and the mother of his first-born child and son, Paulo. The birth of Paulo was the birth of their deterioration as a couple. After discovering Pablo’s affair with his 17-year-old Paramore, Olga took Paulo and moved to southern France, filing for the divorce which Pablo would refuse due to, under French Law, having required to divide his estate evenly with Olga. Olga would be married to Picasso until her death in 1955 but with Picasso, when those four years of inseparability was abundant, Olga picked up the brush, familiarized herself with acrylic, led Pablo to place vivid vision on bland canvas, creating unimaginable masterpieces. It came be said that Olga, as his muse and wife alone, was another era in the many Pablo Picasso would begin, but the only to eroded across all the rest.

          Evolutionary Biologist would postulate that monogamy for most humans is such a difficult feat inasmuch we, as a species, weren’t meant to be monogamous and with that very postulation, Pablo isn’t given an out or exclusion from breaking his vows, even in biology, a man’s crimes committed are always his to be held accountable for. If the “Non-monogamy” postulation so happens to prove solid, then too is its other half, the part which makes marriage so much more a beautiful becoming, something that endures, if love is enough to deter two humans from their own biological pull, stay afloat against the falling waves of overwhelming odds, dance in the dazzle of “temporary insanity,” an act that has been known to prolong its effects. Pablo’s legacy required 9 decades to solidify; between 1917 and 1921, was all that was needed for Olga, her reparation, the part of the estate she was denied, having endured love for such a restless soul as Pablo, so that our admiration of her sacrifice, can find its place to dance on her tongues as she once dance in Chatelet.

-Dontrell Lovet't

Tuesday, December 3, 2019

[Bodies Burning] a Poem

[Bodies Burning]




I love my body when in your arms of your body.
brand new is this sensation,
 memory intact, nerves ablaze.
Your body does what mine does not,
I love to wonder of its whys. Your vertebrae shivers, trembles to my
 coarse hands, or is it my tongue that has given you a chill?

I love to love the wonders and whys and what’s,
the slow shock of combustion lit by the short fuse of orgasm,
 electric currents in a sea of currents,
parting legs and crumbs of afterglow thrilling
 chills, chilling still your body
 which loves how I love it so anew


-from [The Paper Womb II]
Dontrell Lovet't

[It's All Over the News] a poem




It's all over the news,
the wire across the town,
you've a new lover

& if that be true,
the news on the wire,
on the town,
how much love have you've
given away to this new lover?

Life from you was paid
in blood from me;
in a youth so furious,
you reputedly could fatally impale
even the immortals;

I can only imagine what
this lover you're loving loves
of the sordid love you've
price-tagged;

he has no clue, what he's paid,
what he's paid for,
does he?


-from [If It Be You] by Dontrell Lovet't
photography by Laura Barbera

Monday, December 2, 2019

[A Castration Sonata] The First "Bobbitt" in Popular Culture

  It is the greatest nightmare any man can ever hope never to bare; and that is the act of castration.
            Americans specifically are all aware of the name of Lorena Bobbitt, the Ecuadorian-born woman who married a man named John Bobbitt once immigrating into the United States. After continuous sexual assaults against her, Lorena, having allegedly been traumatized and terrified of her husband, who was cleared of sexual assault charges against her in 1993, waited for him to fall into a deep sleep and on the night of June 23, 1993, severed his penis off. Lorena was forced by the responding authorities to recover the penis, which, fortunately (not really fortunate) clean margins of cut allowed surgeons to reattach John’s penis. Lorena was found not guilty by reason of mental disease and defect after numerous testimonies on John’s ongoing domestic abuse against Lorena and she was ordered to spend 45 days in a Psychiatric hospital. John would ironically go on to become a porn star, shooting a pornographic filmed entitled “Pieces of Bobbitt.”

            Despite the numerous media coverage and the popular culture surrounding Lorena’s very name, Lorena wasn’t the first woman popularized by her vicious castration of a lover.

            Sada Abe was a former sex worker and geisha, born in 1905 in the Empire of Japan. Growing up in a house with eight children, Sada was a wild child in an era where wild children were considered extremely unfit to be socially acceptable. Her father, unable to shoulder her acting out and the unending rumors of her numerous lovers, sent her to work in a brothel, possibly in a harsh parental lesson on how behavior can shape a woman’s future and not in the best of ways. It is of note that Japan has always had a sort of flagrant assault against women through centuries of misogyny; for example, a woman being left-handed gave a man grounds for a divorce from her, men wouldn’t take a woman as a wife if she hadn’t at one point been trained to pleasure men in a systemic traditional group houses aimed to further the male agenda to control women and Sushi itself, even today in certain places, is almost entirely prepared by men on the grounds that women hands are too warm. Under this climate, Sada became a victim of the wild errors so common in adolescence, paying the price with shame, the three-hole wonder to countless predators adding to the never-ending abuse against her person.

            Sada worked for five years in the harsh environments of a brothel, contracting Syphilis, Sada, perhaps believing this lifestyle was her only way of survival, already disowned and discarded by her family, decided to trade up to a better brothel (which “better” being subjective) where she earned the reputation for being a nasty and vicious woman. After finding work as a maid in a restaurant, Sada became romantically involved with a wealthy customer named Goro Omiya, a banker to the Japanese Parliament, eventually getting herself into another scuffle over having sexual relations with a client of the restaurant.

            In Tokyo, she found work in a restaurant owned by Kichizo Ishida, a known womanizer and married man. The two soon began making long sojourns at love hotels, lengthy absences from the prying eyes of the community but even if everyone wasn’t aware of Ishidi’s reputation, Sada’s heavy drinking and incessant violent tempers fueled by jealous and her adamant desire for Ishida to leave his wife, brought their tryst to the forefront of gossip and rumor. Sada was in an undeniable amour fou with Ishida and it was clear that she had no plans to lose in her race to rid them of the wife and every other lurking, naive girl Ishida was known to prey on.

            According to the stories from former lovers of Ishida and Sada, Ishida was a fan of sadomasochism, not uncommon for many powerful men and women “bottoming from the top,” giving up power to their partners so that they are not only free of any domineering roles but allowing themselves to free fall into acts they have nor want any control over. During a few of their rendezvous, Sada was known to asphyxiate Ishida on occasion and even inflicting pain upon him so that he could achieve climax and suggestive afterglows. According to Sada, Ishida said to her "You'll put the cord around my neck and squeeze it again while I'm sleeping, won't you ... If you start to strangle me, don't stop, because it is so painful afterward." He was taking sedatives to ease the pain, as every event of erotic asphyxiation became more and more brutal, common in sadomasochism, as every event must push the pedestal of pleasure every time, pale in comparison every past act.

            On May 18, 1936 erotic asphyxiation became the sword he fell on as Sada used the tune of their sexual trade to strangle him to death with a sash. Knowing she couldn’t have Ishida to herself, Sada recalled feeling ultimately relieved, knowing now he could belong to no one else and that forever he would be hers, the last woman he would ever bed. Sada lied next to Ishida’s dead body for a few hours before taking a kitchen knife and cutting off his penis and testicles, wrapping them in a magazine cover, carrying them around until she was finally taken into custody three days later.

            During the trial of Sada Abe, the judge himself admitted to becoming sexually aroused by the details given during the preceding. During her trial, Sada stated "The thing I regret most about this incident is that I have come to be misunderstood as some kind of sexual pervert ... There had never been a man in my life like Ishida. There were men I liked, and with whom I slept without accepting money, but none made me feel the way I did toward him." She was subsequently found guilty of second degree murder and the mutilation of a corpse and sentenced to six years in prison, though she did ask to be put to death for her crimes. Sada was released exactly five years after her sentence and went on to write an autobiography to refute previous published accounts and biographies of her character and the character of the case.
            While Sada Abe’s case may have taken place over a century ago, today it still speaks wonders for a woman trapped in a misogynistic society, volleying for control over not only her life or destiny but for love. And by placing Sada Abe next to some of the great suffragettes we’ve come to know in history would be an appalling happening, we can’t dismiss the fact of a woman who was, through sexually experience, impressionably naïve, without a family or anywhere to turn other than a man who made his hobby serving women misery by using them up as all the men around him in such a society could do without any reprisal beyond a woman’s scorn, where no man in our entire human history has ever been immune from.


-Dontrell Lovet't