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texts about queeruption:
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john´s poem about queeruption

Queer can not be defined.

It is blood from my pusy slipping through cupped hands
fingers painting stripes on face
life fight love death red and brown,
walk the town knowing the earth is being raped,
exploited by men and machines.
Money greed.

Queer is witches, pickpockets, turned tables.

Queer is coyote teeth for a tooth
nothing to sacrifice, nothing to lose.

Queer is what goverments and churches
keep locked away from themselves?
The people.

Queer is what was burned in books,
on crosses,
stringed and wind instruments
it is wild
it is cages being opened,
it is the feeling of live ground,
it is runing,
flying,

daring to live without forgetting the past
and feeling the future.
Now.
Here.
Smashing the clock
turning the tide,
taking the shit of them,
laughing in their faces,
spitting on their polished shoes.

Nothing to sacrifice, nothing to lose.

Queer is blood for blood.
Queer cannot be defined.
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