cscclibrary:

[Image: B/w photo of Rowland S. Howard in a newsagent’s shop, holding an issue of Swamp Thing.]
Rowland S. Howard was not only a celebrated guitarist, brilliant lyricist, and all-around stylish guy; he also was an avid reader of comics.  Swamp Thing began in the 1970s, and was revitalized in the 1980s by Alan Moore; the series won several awards.  It may also have the distinction of being the only Alan Moore project of any significance to escape censorship attempts.
Howard ran into censorship himself, after a fashion, when record company executives forced him to alter a reference to heroin use in his song "Silver Chain."

cscclibrary:

[Image: B/w photo of Rowland S. Howard in a newsagent’s shop, holding an issue of Swamp Thing.]

Rowland S. Howard was not only a celebrated guitarist, brilliant lyricist, and all-around stylish guy; he also was an avid reader of comics.  Swamp Thing began in the 1970s, and was revitalized in the 1980s by Alan Moore; the series won several awards.  It may also have the distinction of being the only Alan Moore project of any significance to escape censorship attempts.

Howard ran into censorship himself, after a fashion, when record company executives forced him to alter a reference to heroin use in his song "Silver Chain."

exgynocraticgrrl:

Suheir Hammad: Not Your Erotic, Not Your Exotic

Don’t wanna’ be your exotic/Like some dark, fragile, colorful bird imprisoned, caged in a land foreign to the stretch of her wings/Don’t wanna’ be your exotic. Women everywhere look just like me/Some taller, darker, nice than me but like me just the same/Women everywhere carry my nose on their faces/My name on their spirits.

Don’t seduce yourself with my other-ness/My hair wasn’t put on top my head to entice you into some mysterious, black voodoo/The beat of my lashes against each other ain’t some dark, desert beat/It’s just a blink/Get over it.

Don’t build around me your fetish, fantasy, your lustful profanity to cage me in, clip my wings. Don’t wanna’ be your exotic. Your lovin’ of my beauty ain’t more than funky fornication, plain pink perversion. In fact, nasty necrophilia.

Because my beauty is dead to you/I am dead to you.

Not your harem girl, geisha doll, banana picker, pom-pom girl, pum-pum shorts coffee maker, town-whore, belly dancer, private dancer, La Malinche, Venus Hottentot, laundry girl, your immaculate vessel, emasculating princess/Don’t wanna’ be - not your erotic, not your exotic.


Suheir Hammad is a Palestinian-American poet, author and political activist who was born on October 1973 in Amman, Jordan to Palestinian refugee parents and immigrated with her family to Brooklyn, New York City when she was five years old. Her parents later moved to Staten Island. (x)