Thank you

Thank you for the kind words
thank you for your voice
such a motivator
to move on with my choice
so happy you enjoy my writing
so happy to read your words
thank you from the bottom
of my heart and my verse.

Real Feminist History

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Just a taste

Peering out from the gutter eyes glow green, a passing dog begins to growl the owner tugging at its lead, and a child sitting outside the small cafe sees the twinkle under the sidewalk. The child stares deep through the gutter bars catching her subject, eyes wide as her tiny mind makes out the visage-green skin, green eyes, wide brimmed hat? The image is confusing, disturbing to the child’s mind and she begins to blubber.
Our Wicked witch flees back below before anyone else could see her, boot clad feet echoing in the sewer puddles. Reluctantly she’s heading back home.
Wicked sighs as she walks lamenting her life, it’s been too long since this girls sniffed between pages. Nothing in the sewers was worth half a shit. FREAKS didn’t read-they drink, but that’s just not Wicked. Removing the glove from her right hand she grimaces-green. Toxic, unnatural-green. A tear escapes her left eye as she just stares at her flesh, still moving. Our girl walks, and walks. Absently entering The Town Below she hears nothing, but echos from the past. She sees nothing, but that toxic skin. Completely unaware of the yellow bricks her feet decided to follow.
She used to be beautiful. She used to have talent. She would have been on the stage. She would have lived normal-but now? These thoughts are what’s crushing her even though other memories keep surfacing she knows, this is her life now. But is there an answer? Could there be hope?
Suddenly she trips. Face first into slick, grimy brick the sound of tiny footsteps all around. She looks up in a panic, yellow little legs dash past in a whirlwind then the sound of inhuman giggling “welcome! Welcome! Welcome!” tiny voices cheer. To Wicked ears though they are all the same. A dozen little men-all the same circle around her.
“Get away from me!” She wails. This is just too much-tiny, glowing, yellow men, giggling like children “get! Get! Get!” She’s standing now.
While the tiny man directly in front of her frowns “well you don’t have to be rude” little hands at his side he kicks out his leg “just saying hello”
Another chimes in from the crowd “thought you might want a taste”
All together “yeah!” Wicked doesn’t know what to do, or what they’re talking about, but she’s seriously disturbed.
The ‘leader’ speaks again “yeah, a taste of something special-for you today it’d be free!”
Another chimes in “it’ll make you feel incredible!”
And another “it’ll make you a lot less green!” The group snickers in their very disturbing way.
“Less green?” She’s interested now. She’d do anything now-until a tiny little yellow man holds out his hand, she recoils. All the tiny little faces frown as the same tiny little yellow man thrust out his hand again. This time she takes it resulting in cheers, they’re all the same person Wicked thinks as shivers run down her spine.
Still circled around her they lead our girl down the rest of the brick road to a little brown shack resting deep within the sewers. They are surrounded by black the only light coming from the yellow glow emitted by the tiny men and of course the glow of Wicked. The stress of the situation lighting her eyes and skin in a brilliant display that’d give most nightmares.
All at once everything is black Wicked cannot see, there is no yellow glow and certainly no green. Reaching out she feels something slick, not wet, not sticky-just slick like oil. She hears a bubble pop, and the sound of muck gurgling and then a mouth covers her own. Eyes wide to no avail-she cannot see! Reaching for her face her arms get pulled down hard to her sides. She cannot breathe. Cannot move. She panics-mind racing our girl fears for her life. She doesn’t give in though, oh no, Wicked knows pain-our girl knows trauma. Memories explode behind eyes as she begins to thrash her head hits a slick solid substance knocking the blindfold just slightly revealing a yellow glow. It’s too late to think, too late to cool down her flesh is burning now. Screaming into the mouth of her captor it’s probing tongue enters her as she is preparing too explode.
She screams and screams.
And screams.
Basically our girl spends about 45 minutes screaming into the slick captives mouth only to grow extremely tired, and limp. She’s let go, dropping down, down, down onto a what feels like a bed. The blindfold fully falls off and she sees the bare mattress she’s laying on, dirty makeshift walls, and the glow-the yellow glow. She pushes herself up hoping to strangle the closest little man she can grab only to find a man, a yellow average sized man, standing, staring, with a grin. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
She flies at him without thinking hands gripping his neck before recoiling-his flesh is slick! “Ugh! I’m going to kill you!” The rage instantly exhaust her as she calls back onto the bed burying her head in her hands.
“I’ve no idea why you got what you wanted.” She looks down at her hands, eyes wide, not green-not green! Looking up the yellow man is gone.

Paper

Sometimes
I miss my pen and paper
miss the way
it feels to bleed
onto page
through ink and lead
letters reflect
just how one feels
the proof on script
old poets
healed.

Neon Lights

It’s one of those nights. Those lonely nights in splendor a bored blonde stands upon a rooftop terrace. The wind blowing as it does from 15 stories high through those pretty locks the music booming right behind. Our girl dressed to the nines staring down at the Capitol lights the blood splatter in her eyes.
“Memories…” she sighs through red lips parted just so. As he steps out she pulls the end of her cigarette holder to those lips, before he speaks “got a light?” voice that sweet kind of ready.
He makes a noise and begins bumbling through his pockets until he nabs his torch. She smiles the wind tossing her hair every so tenderly as flame meets home. She breathes in.
“So baby what you doing all the way out here?” his breath stinks of schnapps. Wrapping a well toned arm around her satin wrapped waist “you should be where the action is” he hoots pulling her closer their chests colliding. At least he’s built well she smirks taking a long drag those full red lips delighted at the odds.
Some nights a girl just needs some company. He’s smelling her hair as her attention moves toward the glass doors. Neon lights in darkness shadow all the bodies the boom of the music masking the screams in her head, blood splatter still painting her eyes. “Let’s go sweet thing you can finish that inside” he was right she only came out for the view. Now it was time for a little do-si-do.
He leads her through the glass doors the bass almost nauseating “I found the golden ticket!” the stud shouts the crowd responds though nothing’s heard.
She takes a drag watching the slow exhale of the smoke-an excuse to take in the room. She follows the show pony rather guided by his grip, reaching out taking a glass of wine- she sips that red. A drop falling from lip to breast the cool sensation a flash of vindicated regret. Our blondes remembering a face she can never forget. Blood splatter and that bass is sounding thick. He twirls her suddenly out of underneath his weight in her heels she spins the wine spilling over her silver draped body her back hitting the DJ booth. The pain in her spine the trigger.
Thud then swipe the neon colored lights dancing off steel as the beat gets hot.
A flip of our miss and she’s on top the studs shoulders. Face first. He’s enamoured by her intimate wear completely missing the fact this little blonde’s cut clear through the nape of his neck. His blood soaks her thighs as she rides the stiff backwards through the crowd. The  decapitated hottie takes her to the center of the room before the timber begins to fall. To the sound of the bass she goes flying cartwheeling off shoulders before dropping heels into the eyes of another lovely guy. Knife in hand our lonely lady shakes it off the blood splatter illuminated in the dark by neon lights. A girl screams as the blonde reaches number four she sees the rolling head being kicked about the scene. The blondes knife takes another dog while the screaming girl tries to tell someone anyone what’s she seen. Finding the only man whose still breathing, but to her horror takes the words right out of her mouth literally as he shoves his tongue down her throat. She struggles still screaming-as best she can as he paws at her flesh, so after those lips. The music is thumping the tempo a heart attack as he stops her struggle with a hand crack across her face.
Above the quarrelsome pair our blondes legs twirl over the crowd, she watches, the now silent screamers face frozen in fear as the still breathing dog continues to maul. The severed head still being kicked amongst the living.
The beat drops as the observant blonde let’s long legs fall the neon lights flash red, lips sighing “memories…” her heels hit shoulders digging in-delicate fingers release the strap on either side-another pair bites the dust. Nylon covered feet drop to the ground forcing our girl between the passionate duo, her knife comfortable within the dogs chest. She turns it. Red lips next to his breathing in the taste of vodka and soda “you won’t remember me, but I still remember you.” She turns the knife again his hands about her throat weakened by the last of the poison. Oh-how girls do love their poison heels. “All of you.” Pulling her knife out thud another one bites the dust.
The neon lights keep dancing as do the drunk honeys that showed up. The damsel screamer is long gone didn’t even bother informing the gaggle, but luckily left the blonde time to retrieve the heels and saunter out before the red lights interrupt the neon shadows.

Self identified

What is a warrior-
a strong woman
tell me what it means
to be a champion
tell me what you’ve done
to be number one
have you given blood
or just claimed the sum
of all the work that happens
while you live on
pretending that you know
something that we don’t
not the definition though
the word rewrote.

Weakness

Bleed for me
bleed for me
tell me that you’ll lead me
keep me
love me
color me with cotton candy.
Drink me and teach me
that everything is grey.
I’ll sleep on the floor
just to save the day.
All I really want
is someone just to stay
keep your hand upon me
never will I stray.

(25 August 2017)

Declarations

Blessed by spirits
blessed in love
my soul is freedom
my heart becomes
pure as water
driven snow
my blood on fire
divine inferno
God is keeper
I am kept
my faith is trust
in that which is
blessed is all
that love has given
my portion greater
then my eyes
my life I’ve entrusted
to the Divine.

Thicker

Harden me
harden me
make it hard to sleep
too dark to dream
every little part of me
a song to scream
another testimony
of this life I lead.
Harden me
break my bones and teeth
teach me what I need
to breathe and drink
the poison owed to me.