Shame (The Supremes)
“You think to shame me"
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me,”
Gay Rebel of the Harlem Renaissance:
Selections from the Work of Richard
Bruce Nugent, by Thomas H. Wirth
_______________________________________
“You think to shame me
And use to flay me
Disgust for the life I’ve lived”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me”
Shame on me, my dear—I should be desperately ashamed of myself—and I am ashamed of myself—my shame grows day by day, night by night & wad by wad—my shame is simply shameless, my dear—the way it grows like mold on cheese—cheesy as Negro smegma after a shot or two of pure unadulterated runny thick Negritude—talk about skanky-tasting Niggeratti Manor Harlem Renaissance Flashbacks…
________________________________________
“I tell you I love you
And you taunt me”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me”
I’m simply shameless—it’s just like the Supremes way back then—the way they used to sing & whine & chastise me all the time—“Shame, Shame, S-h-a-m-e!!!—In the name of Love!!!”—“Oh baby, Shame, Shame, Shame!!!—Shame On YOU!!!”—It be just awful, my dears, how ashamed I got back then—and nothin’ much as changed either, honey—“Shame!!! Shame!!! Shame in the Name of Love!!!”—Oh man, I still get that Shameless Feeling—the kind of Shame that Tyrone made me feel—the kind of Shame I still can get—over a long lanky lean young Mandingo kid—a hot smirky wise-ass cute Negro guy—with strong basketball legs & lots of bad Attitude—down there in the YMCA shower…
______________________________________
“the fact of my promiscuity,
I tell you I love you”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me”
Ooh yeah baby, I sure enough can blush & feel downright goddamn ashamed of myself—in runs in my family all that bad blood—and I like it too cause it fuckin’ feels good to feel that way—to feel alive & full of shameless Dinge Queen queer Love—I can’t help it, honey, I never could—like it’s in my tainted dirty whiteboy blood—the way Afro-American mulatto cum runs through me way down deep—not just Tyrone’s cheesy runny snotty loads—that be shamelessly succulent & all-knowing just like his is…
__________________________________
“As you have so many men?
Can you love?”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me”
But also it be in my Family Tree—hidden inside my dirty whiteboy loins & bad blood groin—the same Dinge Ledgers that Ike McCaslin hated to read that kerosene lamp night staying up late at night as a kid—reading thru the Ledger pages deeper & deeper into his genealogical past—all the way back thru his fucked-up Delta Autumn decadent seminal bloodline waiting for him
____________________________________
“These are the words you speak to me
when I tell you I love you
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me”
All the way back to my great-great grandfather L.Q.C. Mccaslin there in the Carolinas—all the way back to him making love to his dinge half-brother Thucydus—both of them exiled by their outraged East Coast antebellum father in shame all the way down into Deep South Mississippi—way down there in the stinking Delta Bourbon swamps & jizzy jigaboo jungles—where my dirty old great-great grandfather even fucked the wife he bought for half-brother Thucydus in New Orleans—and then fucked his own daughter as well to keep the Thucydus Line of decadent tainted big-dick aristocracy going…
_____________________________________
“Is it not perhaps a habit of speech
grown glib with frequent using?”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me”
No, no!!! Not his own brother—No, no!!! Not his own daughter!!!—No, no!!! Not my young dinge kid brother Tyrone!!!—“Shame, Shame, Shame!!! In the name of L-O-V-E!!!—three goddamn long thick skanky centuries of Deep South cum—years & years of Delta Bourbon jizz—humid magnolia-nights of Bon the Beautiful Incestuous High Octoroon Romance—mind-lessly, unashamedly, knowingly, manhandled—me in Tiger Town south of campus—there in the student ghetto of Louisiana State University—feeling the same shame as my decadent Mississippi Delta predecessors felt—déjà vu dinge queen love for young Southern teenage blackness
____________________________________
“And read these poor words
I ineptly write, that at least
You owe me”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me”
Getting you off as much as I possibly can—my young mulatto boyfriend naked & stoned in bed—your veiny, unabashedly, unashamed uncut dark meat—engorged & full of deepest darkest Congo Cum—oozing all the way from William Faulkner’s moody Yoknapatawpha County—clear over here to Huey P. Long’s tall proud phallic Louisiana art deco skyscraper capitol—streamlined moderne & rising erect high over the sullen Mississippi River—thick & slow as Big Easy salt-water taffy—sluggish & slow as brown sugar cumly black molasses…
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me,”
Gay Rebel of the Harlem Renaissance:
Selections from the Work of Richard
Bruce Nugent, by Thomas H. Wirth
_______________________________________
“You think to shame me
And use to flay me
Disgust for the life I’ve lived”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me”
Shame on me, my dear—I should be desperately ashamed of myself—and I am ashamed of myself—my shame grows day by day, night by night & wad by wad—my shame is simply shameless, my dear—the way it grows like mold on cheese—cheesy as Negro smegma after a shot or two of pure unadulterated runny thick Negritude—talk about skanky-tasting Niggeratti Manor Harlem Renaissance Flashbacks…
________________________________________
“I tell you I love you
And you taunt me”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me”
I’m simply shameless—it’s just like the Supremes way back then—the way they used to sing & whine & chastise me all the time—“Shame, Shame, S-h-a-m-e!!!—In the name of Love!!!”—“Oh baby, Shame, Shame, Shame!!!—Shame On YOU!!!”—It be just awful, my dears, how ashamed I got back then—and nothin’ much as changed either, honey—“Shame!!! Shame!!! Shame in the Name of Love!!!”—Oh man, I still get that Shameless Feeling—the kind of Shame that Tyrone made me feel—the kind of Shame I still can get—over a long lanky lean young Mandingo kid—a hot smirky wise-ass cute Negro guy—with strong basketball legs & lots of bad Attitude—down there in the YMCA shower…
______________________________________
“the fact of my promiscuity,
I tell you I love you”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me”
Ooh yeah baby, I sure enough can blush & feel downright goddamn ashamed of myself—in runs in my family all that bad blood—and I like it too cause it fuckin’ feels good to feel that way—to feel alive & full of shameless Dinge Queen queer Love—I can’t help it, honey, I never could—like it’s in my tainted dirty whiteboy blood—the way Afro-American mulatto cum runs through me way down deep—not just Tyrone’s cheesy runny snotty loads—that be shamelessly succulent & all-knowing just like his is…
__________________________________
“As you have so many men?
Can you love?”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me”
But also it be in my Family Tree—hidden inside my dirty whiteboy loins & bad blood groin—the same Dinge Ledgers that Ike McCaslin hated to read that kerosene lamp night staying up late at night as a kid—reading thru the Ledger pages deeper & deeper into his genealogical past—all the way back thru his fucked-up Delta Autumn decadent seminal bloodline waiting for him
____________________________________
“These are the words you speak to me
when I tell you I love you
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me”
All the way back to my great-great grandfather L.Q.C. Mccaslin there in the Carolinas—all the way back to him making love to his dinge half-brother Thucydus—both of them exiled by their outraged East Coast antebellum father in shame all the way down into Deep South Mississippi—way down there in the stinking Delta Bourbon swamps & jizzy jigaboo jungles—where my dirty old great-great grandfather even fucked the wife he bought for half-brother Thucydus in New Orleans—and then fucked his own daughter as well to keep the Thucydus Line of decadent tainted big-dick aristocracy going…
_____________________________________
“Is it not perhaps a habit of speech
grown glib with frequent using?”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me”
No, no!!! Not his own brother—No, no!!! Not his own daughter!!!—No, no!!! Not my young dinge kid brother Tyrone!!!—“Shame, Shame, Shame!!! In the name of L-O-V-E!!!—three goddamn long thick skanky centuries of Deep South cum—years & years of Delta Bourbon jizz—humid magnolia-nights of Bon the Beautiful Incestuous High Octoroon Romance—mind-lessly, unashamedly, knowingly, manhandled—me in Tiger Town south of campus—there in the student ghetto of Louisiana State University—feeling the same shame as my decadent Mississippi Delta predecessors felt—déjà vu dinge queen love for young Southern teenage blackness
____________________________________
“And read these poor words
I ineptly write, that at least
You owe me”
—Bruce Nugent,
“You Think To Shame Me”
Getting you off as much as I possibly can—my young mulatto boyfriend naked & stoned in bed—your veiny, unabashedly, unashamed uncut dark meat—engorged & full of deepest darkest Congo Cum—oozing all the way from William Faulkner’s moody Yoknapatawpha County—clear over here to Huey P. Long’s tall proud phallic Louisiana art deco skyscraper capitol—streamlined moderne & rising erect high over the sullen Mississippi River—thick & slow as Big Easy salt-water taffy—sluggish & slow as brown sugar cumly black molasses…
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