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Friday, January 4, 2019

Playwright Raja Feather Kelly, 2019

Playwright Raja Feather Kelly, 2019
Park Slope


If I had one thing left to tell you.Imagine this
reality: I am in a bedthat I call mine, and it is not.In looking at its make-up; bars at the head and end, the


doubling upward. No one sleeps up there or here with me.
There is a door, no more than ten feet away from me, and
it keeps people out.As do my sheets to the cold, my eyes
to the light, my ribs to my heartand my secret lives to
your love. You see, everything around us can parallel our
feelings.There is a good reason for cotton, lids, bones
and secrets. You caught me once; outside, undressed and
your offer had no limit; I could be disarmedthough robed

 If you think it long and mad,the boundaries at
selfthat exists materially and physically,are also
emotional. If I left you at the shore,I am only trying to
grow down myself.Remember how metal fought natureso we
can be closer,and how asking you to considerI never had
a cap.So why have you stopped?And, each day,each
hour, I feel the slow pain of ‘what if’, and ‘how could I
have’,penetrating the destiny of my thinking.The lights
in the room have gone outand I cannot see what I am typing
it takes me longer to find wordswith the keys blackened.You too can understand this boundary.There is nothing
pretty about its loveand you feel that,like I feel my
secret lives between us.
 I didn’t just come here to dance,
          if you know what I mean, do you
          know what I mean?Do you see what I
          see? Now this is a story all about
          how my life got flipped turned
          upside down. I’ve been a bad, bad
          girl...I’m feelin’ like a
          criminal.See no one told you life
          was gonna be this way, See no one
          told you life was gonna be this
          way, See no one told you life was
          gonna be this way. He’s just too
          gay to function.Black. We die,
          Black. you cry- You may die, you
          may die. I’m not here, this isn’t
          happening I’m unhappy and sick,I’m
          unhappy and sick, I’m unhappy and
          sick. You don’t own me. And I’d
          like to take a moment, just sit
          right there to tell you how I
          became. A creep, I’m a weirdo, I
          keep dancing on my own. My mind is
          someplace else, really. How did we
          come this? I’ve gotta get out of
          here, someone give me my shot, or
          I’ll rot here. downtown. Black
          man, get your money.You know the
          great thing about Aliens? Let me
          go! It’s that they don’t exist.
          But we change that. We make
          dreams, and movies and we give
          life to them and we kill them.
          They have ships and powers, and
          they remind you that the “other”
          is far more fascinating and
          rewarding than repulsive and
          horrifying. At least if it’s not
          you.I get so lonely. One is the
          loneliest number that you ever do,
          two Be or not to be that is the
          Question, tell me what you think
          Ah ah ah ah. My body is a
          cage...How would you approach
          translating this? You do not know?



          RAJA IN MIC (CONT'D)
So what can you tell?Lonely,
lonely that is you. I can tell you
that it is impossible to
translate. I would need to be able
to interact with it.You did not
need that before. I did not need
that because I already knew the
language, but this is...I know what
you're doing. Tell me what I'm
doing? Ahh, look at all the lonely
people. I'm just telling you what
it would take to do this. Give me
an example of how you might use
it.Im in love again—because
they’re too young, you know, to
kind of get it— My love don’t cost
a thing If I was young I’d flee
town and I bury my dreams
underground. He never wants to
cry. I used to think this was the
beginning of my story. Memory is a
strange thing. It does not work
they way we want it to. Did I say
we were bound by time. Or did I
call them slaves. Enslaved....But
now I'm not so sure I believe in
beginnings and endings. There are
days that define your story beyond
your life. Like the day I arrived.
We all have a weakness Thanks.
It's not true, but it proves my
point.’ I was born this way
Gotta move, gotta get out Gotta
leave this place, gotta find some
place Some other place, some
brand new placeSome place where
each face that I seeWon't be
staring back at me Telling me
what to be and how to be itSome
place where I can just be me. —Or
would it be better just to let
things be? living here in this new
world might be a fantasy—is this
happiness? is this happiness? is
this happiness? is this happiness?
I am going to give birth to an
animated voodoo doll of myself.
She said, Establishing communication is going to be
          really difficult--A grammar in three dimensions
  raja feather kelly | founder & artistic director | +732.299.2204

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