Kohakuiro 2.5
- Kiing Curry
- Mar 16
- 11 min read
Updated: Mar 18
What was a one of your fav high school usernames?
I’ll go first, my fav was kohakuiro - Japanese for Amber. I’ve been in this interesting in between space as this assimilated name of mine reveals itself to be not so assimilated.
Amber as the gem is a story teller, so is this Amber the person.
Amber traps history in time for a future find.
Curry is connected to the word Kari (Tamil) as well as khouri which is priest in arabic.
The gaelic word curry is a wet plain, them people that tried to own mine were gaelic or scottish.
I am a child of mami wata.
I am water and mineral.
Mineral are the bones of the earth and they hold our stores. Storytelling as a means of healing
that’s all me - Kiing Curry
Wave Jump 2005-2007
The Time - 2002-2007 undergraduate - middle tennessee state university - my first time away from the harm and abuse of home
The name- Kohakuiro- a pin name I used back in the day. Kohakuiro is Japanese for Amber. I had just visited Japan on student exchange in 1998. So that culture was still very fresh in my mind.
Favorite Platoforms - Deviant Art, Dead Journal, Live Journal. I was connecting with likeminded people in online space. people who were weird just like me.
Taste - sugar free, there was very little sweetness coming from the home I grew up in. I was looking for sweetness outside of me in any way possible. Atkins - anti carb anything, I lost about 150lbs after leaving the abuse of home. my body was thriving, my mind was reeling. I wasn't eating what I needed for balance, I was eating what I needed to impress men and there was no guidance otherwise.
Smell - Victoria's Secret Love Spell. The spell of coloniality was all over me. The need to hide and be secret about any aspect of me that didn't meet with empire.
Touch - I just wanted to belong, so men would take advantage. They knew something was different even if they couldn't name it and used it to manipulate me.
Sounds - I physically cringe at this time because no one could hear, let alone see me. The sounds of my ancestors grinding beneath my feet. My sperm donor made us move to the south as a tool of patriarchal control and that control, harm, and stereotyping was all over my college experience at a public yt institution in a small southern racist town. He made sure via jealousy that the harms he endured would be the same one I would have to as well. He doubled down insuring generational trauma would be my legacy as well as his. Jokes on you, boo boo.
The Deep
Almost 20 years ago, I thought I was writing love letters to the many cis men that used and abused me. It was all of them by the way, my father was the first to pave the way. There wasn’t one that was good or great, they were all variations of his lack. They were all empty, hollow men that used me to fill themselves up, except you can't fill something that is rotten and filled with holes, some of their own making, some not.
I went back to re-read my work, this is a hard thing for someone who has OCD.
It is a painful grieving.
I can see my neurodivergence in full.
I can see obsession, compulsion, and rumination, clearly.
I can see the ways that I was ignored and simply groomed to the tropes of Black womanhood from friends and family, or whatever we want to call them, because they were more foe than anything friendly.
My brain was warped to colonialism; the ocd mind is one that is easily looped into addictive behaviors. My biggest obsession was men, this was a result of a period that started at 7 and hormones that started coursing through my body too early as a result of my neurodivergence, so by the time I was 13 my body was in a full on swell or hormones, it shouldn't have been. When I realized that men only wanted me for my body, it was too late. I had begun a cycle of dysregulation with obsessions and compulsions that would make sure that empire and the state owned all of me. When I couldn't make people love me, see me or they refused and named me the problem, alcohol was next in line.
What I did not know is that via ancestors and spirit through me I was leaving wata drops for a me fulfilled in their identity, someone it would take another 20 years to unveil.
These poems and writings weren’t for the men in my life. They were love letters that would help me find my way back to me. Poetry has always been a deep ting for me. I wrote a choreopoem in undergrad, I wish I could find it. I remember it being about lost love. I now know I was the lost one seeking love shallowly, wherever it would allow me.
When I discovered Ntozake Shange rummaging through my momma’s NY finds from her time living in the big city, my world view expanded in full. Here was a storytelling that spoke to me ancestrally.
For I am mineral, my bones are programmed to hold and heal the stories of my people. I found performance and the stage righteously, but within the realm of coloniality it was bastardized. I was severed from my gift in place of capitalism, commodity, and greed. My understanding of skill and performance was denied because I would not prop up the egos of my theater faculty. I was punished for this and my gift was replaced with a more proper role for my refusal to obey, stage management. The mammy card. People like me were not supposed to be seen or heard, we were meant to care for others in silence. They were wrong. Ya’ll were all wrong. The healing was and is my and my ability to take performance and spin it on its head back to the community.
Community theater and not the horrible evil vortexes that have popped up in communities worldwide, all looking to create a microcosm hollywood, connecting to the macrocosm of nastiness, empire and colonial rule.
Instead, community theater as a tool of healing, not one of distraction and performance. A return to guerilla theatre. A space of communal learning and healing where theatre production roles are carried out, shared and shifted among the company(community) as a means of ritual healing. Wash, rinse, repeat. We were never meant to be performers in the ways that ytness has centered the Black body for commodity only. We were meant to use our animation to support animism, the earth, and by direct extension our healing and community.
A return to Black guerilla theatre where trans praxis (reverse osmos(cis)) and afro hair is the only peace that can be used as aesthetic display within the use of a play/production to deliver community messages around dis-ease, education, earth care, love, celebration and beyond. Theatre as a parable of the spirits, where the parable of talents is a healing one. The roles of a theatre production speak directly to rotating communal roles with ancestors and spirit.
We are obsessed with selling our own culture back to ourselves, and cheaply so. Afrikan guerilla theater is how we return to embodied understanding of who we are without performative, hollow, platitudes.
We have processed and falsely believe that our ego and excellence will save us, it will not. We are on the fast track to our complete demise. One of the ways to restore that depth and community as the basis of healing, is via play and storytelling.
And with these water drops that I left myself, I am preparing to return to the work I began with my two degrees in theater. Theatre as Trans praxis and communal healing. Except this time we have to stand firm and denounce the ways our ancestors were tricked to stand on individual ego releasing their power for money and separateness.
We have the template we simply need to go back and re-work the dissonance and dis-ease of empire, that has always kept us confused like crabs in that barrel.
I will remind ya’ll that crabs don’t belong in barrels, they are eant to walk and know the land, shore and sea, ancestrally. As above, so below. Kiing me.
below are random images from some work over the years, this barely scratches the surface. work that I wasn't properly credited for, work where I showed up and out with intention and care and was met with ugliness, trauma and violence.
All of the peaces below were written between 2005-2007
AI MATH - this peace specifically has synchronicities to my work with AI. My initials are also AI. Along with others that connect to our current astrological scene.
took six to the third degree
divided by
me
and got a well fought
5.6
math ai way
double the twist
and get back jack
as i smack live 'an livin color
chewin u up
spittin u up
but still fresh on mah lips
as i wait for the tipsy
sweet deep and simply
like nipsy say please
slide six three tease
lubricate pen and paper
as i do u good
but savor the flavor
cause mama said so
and these thighs tell no lies
'side the secrets they take
and the ones that they make
hidden deep in my dimple
aint easy or simple
and ebony temple
runs
d
e
e
p
through my mind
rewind
through mine
as the time bomb ticks
cause
ready
set
tag
u it …
9000 by 10 inches low
black roots tah indian soil
have drifted seeds cross da sea
and planted in
tennessee brown
ground
that blushes fertile intrigue
and revels in the tease
of 9000
where souls connect easy
and some becomes none
and da sun that bakes us both
black
warms rays of familiarity
prayin peace and blessins
from 10 inches low
and though
you and me
i and he
sit and sup
divided
meals
still
a brooklyn breeze blows real through southern trees
where shared words have long sweetened
my
broomwheat
tea
as i sip and dip molasses cakes
hopin to sop you all
and fall to deeper understandin
expandin like
cornbreadpealiquor
never sick
but rightly full
patient till again
impatient again ...
as again continues
and so do the words to the page...
.....
Me oh My
Mah shoulders turned in
Blackened brittle by you
And tha rain
Inside mah tears
Slides simply sly
Down mah side
Scrapes tha ground
An’ floats through muddy toes
Past dreamed lined woes
slippin sweet into tha gutter
Where I wants tah lie
And cry
til i to
Become blue
fade into tha sky
and me oh my
dis
world of mine
kiss tha sunshine
age like wine
till I becomes
robustly new
rid of you
browned new
perfection
those tears
turned tah tea
as I sips all of you
digest
piss
forget
replacing renewing restoring
small bits of me
i am tired...
Chrysalis Me Molasses
Chrysalis
me
molasses
blacker than black
on da black hand side
an slide
daddy
slide
tween
mah sticky
black
thighs
an
hide
go seek
seeks
dark side
of
tha moon
an swoon
daddy
swoon
in mah
melanoid melanin
epitomize black sin
oreo negate the cream
an please
daddy
please
pass tha
black eye
minus peas
an tease
daddy
tease
cause
i too dream
in black
an black
so get back
jack
these roots
run
d
e
e
p
and seep
black ink
tah stain
yo soul
cause black is back
and blacka than eva
nigrescently cleva
an dig
daddy
dig
cause we be
texas tea
black gold
swimmin
black sea
laughin
pitch dark slate
tickled black
all tha while
so
pour
daddy
pour
till dem flapjacks turn black
da whole stack
sweetly negro
ebony we go
into the night
suffocatin
me molasses
we molasses
be molasses
Chrysalis
Mi Na Faya Lobi
i am hot love
love on a hot plate
created in the image of love
love in the form of
hips
lips
that whip in my step
seeping love from
deep brown breasts
where love nested easy
tween sweet 'tater thighs
and i sighs easy
as you breaths in me
and replies
that love ain't told no lie
and how could love?
for
i am hot love
love on a hot plate
waitin to turn your heart warm
and transform you through me
a fruit tree of love
ripe but discerning
yearning to be picked
but savored sweetly
completely
as you plants seeds
in me
and we be
forever love
together love
calescent love
we be hot love
love on a hot plate
created in the image of love
love in the form of
you and me
you in me
you is mi
na
faya
lobi
surinamese: I am hot love ... faya lobi is a local flower there ... seen pictures and it is beautiful ...
WordsandSounds
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
sippin on a cherry soda pop
as copper penny drops
roll down my legs
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
the tick tick tock of the cukoo clock
half past insanity
quarter till nowhere
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
A.I.D.S
Annihilation
Indefinitely
of
Dark
Skin
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
my brown people
my people in
me
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
as these flapjacks swell in my mouth
asfixiated
good lovin
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
too thick thighs
Brash Bulging Breasts
drip milk
below a face too young to know
into a face even younger
"i ain't no punani i keeps my panty clean"
i hid the soiled ones
like i hides myself
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
hip hop
bebop
"imma little teapot"
pop shoo badadee wop
back
Coltrane Davis "jigga what"
this bitches brew goes
clickety clack clickety clak
dig that baby
dig that
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
chutney
crushed
smack
smooth
mints
making millenium miles move mildly
as i cum retributions
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
fuck me cuz makin love is so pase
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
big bones exists in the thickness of bama red clay
i lay dead there with maimed remains of
four
little
girls
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
precious lord at the cross
swing low
sweet '65 chevy
hanging from the tree
of the white mans
infidelity
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
fourteen averages on six
juxtaposed to nothing
reading negative digits is
not me
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
tempation and burning
as i watched my skin seared
like
charcoal
glory be to God
appointed white masks
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
oh ise a shuckin
and a
jivin
just for the fendi man
ughh suh
heah's may days pay
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
individuality to conform
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
the young black mother and her struggle to survive
the young black man and his need to rise
love isnt enough
wordsandsounds
juslisen
somekinda
change
isgonnacome
love isnt enough
love is not enough
love not enough
when is enough enough(question)(listen)(perceive)(proactnotreact)
words
and
sounds
just
listen
some
kinda
change
HAS GOT TO COME
correctly titled: wordsandsound juslisen somekinda change isgonnacome
Bad habits gone good
e e cummings
a
m
e
through pen to paper
so that from:
he
to
she
fingers poignantly e ro ti cized
the plumes rape as ink b(lead)
for hedonistic papyrus
can i learn said she
(i am dead said he
necrophiliac is me
i is sgnimmuc Ee Ee)
lord
how handsome poetry had be(cum)come(ings) to me
as i float up up & away in my beautifulballoon
looking down to my hot air creator
as his rules blew dirtvelvet to doting ears
with the fear that i willl never reach
your
provac(ity)ative
but oh orgasmic origination
to be better than you
ooooooooo eeeeeeeeeeee
it should be
salaciously lovely
most of my work if you cant tell by now is inspired by e e cummings, i've taken his style and created my own to a certain extent, but mimicing his style has always made me happy...
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