I’m with “someone”
she said,
playing the pronoun game
like a shapeless lump of wax
free to move in any direction across a chess board
before anyone can decide what it is.
I want to be more evolved than jealousy,
than sexism, bias and envy.
Instead I am disabled as a pair of eyes without light perception
by them all.
And I need to know where to focus
my ridiculous hated
like a walking stick that designs a clear path
by jabbing at everything in the room
or the way a blindfolded kid feels for the piñata
before beating it to pieces for sport.
Is she younger?
I bet her voice is peppered with optimism and aspiration
and she cheers at the sideline of all your races
holding up poster board with hearts and exclamation marks drawn.
Or maybe she’s the partner that runs by your side,
wiping sweat from your brow,
sharing water and hand towels like a single body.
Is he older?
Does he dote of you like a father figure
Or toe the line while you run wild,
impulsively travel and drink yourself to sleep?
I bet he’s a silver fox with a permanent six o’clock shadow
and palms like sandpaper.
Or maybe he’s a bald muscle head that offers
financial and physical security
even though you’ll never say out loud
that you need anything.
Does she wear dresses and skirts like jewelry?
Heels and perfume that make you want to put her back in bed
before she can leave the house?
I bet she wears makeup like a mask
and has a tan year-round like a Brazilian God.
Is she skinny like you?
I bet her breasts stand up straight as your fingers can point
and her hair pours into your face
like a handful of rose petals when she kisses you.
Do you ride him like a mechanical bull in a southern bar?
Or do you lie there staring at the wall
counting the minutes before he cums,
feeling his prick like a needle
siphoning tiny pieces of your soul instead of blood?
Does she let you be the boy with her?
Forget I asked.
Penis or fingers, her or him,
it’s just anatomy in the end.
No matter who has been inside you…
I hate “them”.
I’m with “someone”
she said.
I could have asked her to specify right then.
I could still ask her now,
if I really wanted to know.
But, there is no method of torture worse,
than your imagination
when it’s sure. _________________ shemovesme.wordpress.com
Wed Sep 26, 2012 7:23 am
ae
Joined: 17 Sep 2006
Posts: 1025
Location: that tragic backwater, the gulf coast of florida
How unlike you to say so, K. fewer have suffered more illustriously than you from the uncertain ponderings of your imagination. Ooh, that gives me an idea!
ae _________________ -
-
-
"...a soul that wakes up to find itself wandering, unwanted, between the spheres."
Tue Feb 26, 2013 2:56 pm
smart_cookie
Joined: 12 Aug 2006
Posts: 2310
Location: USA
This poem has ONE comment? Okay, there is no god. Or everyone at mels is trank darted. Or something.
Every word of this just shines, though the light is rather green with envy and red with passion and anger, not to mention the pervading deep blue of a bruised heart.
There are so many lines I just love, in this. The running partners with one body. The hair like a pouring of rose petals (!). And the fucking guys offering security, etc. I've seen that movie up way too close. As the lady said, we sent one of them to the moon, why not the rest? but I digress...
This is fresh, and raw, and a whole laundry list of other fine adjectives. Loved it.
Sun Mar 03, 2013 1:28 pm
CindyT
Joined: 09 Nov 2012
Posts: 159
Location: Florida
brachingritualz: We haven't really met yet but I must tell you I love your web name here at Mels.
Maybe some women are just tired of the struggle. (an observation not apology)
I pray to the air that we haven't lost all that we have claimed.
What a good look at: choosing the easy route? A great look at not claiming one's natural right of being herself in every oportunity, every single time. Why?
CindyT
Sun Mar 03, 2013 2:41 pm
brachingritualz
Joined: 31 Mar 2007
Posts: 248
Clearly there is a God Cookie since you and AE have recently rescinded your respective disappearing acts to grace this ghost town with new prose and comments....Thanks for making me feel validated, when this poem got 0 replies I feared it was found offensive in some way. Cindy, thanks for reading, I'm glad you like it so far! _________________ shemovesme.wordpress.com
Tue Mar 05, 2013 6:03 am
MysteryGirl Moderators
Joined: 02 Jun 2007
Posts: 3419
Location: I come from a land downunder
Thank Goddess that it took Cooks and ae to bring this to my attention... Brach, darlin....please dont think I had deserted you or your words. The truth is I got a little dispirited myself for a while there with the lack of movement on the poetry boards and probably missed a few here and there. And yes...before you berate me severely I know I need to be part of the solution, instead of part of the problem I havent written anything for so long and I think the last thing I posted here went uncommented on as well, but then I think it was crap, so that is OK.
I feel like a hungry beggar, suddenly invited to a marvellous feast... new works from you, aw and Cooks to digest and perhaps it was all just a little too much all at once.
Love the last lines of this work.... cause my imagination has worked overtime just like this back in the dark days.
"But, there is no method of torture worse,
than your imagination
when it’s sure." _________________ Be yourself.............everybody else is taken!
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