I've been the road of womanhood and dreamed a woman's dream of loving and caressing you until you made me scream. You took me for a lover then took me by surprise. You bloodied all my woman things and ate me with your eyes. I never knew your male designs or understood your reason. I only knew the single road of following my season. You drank my love with eager lust and catered to my blindness. Then having quenched your cursed thirst you left me only dryness.
Womanhood.
I am the Scribe…
I am the scribe and well I know the law. It is my legacy to write it -- as a child writes the alphabet dutifully -- with the purpose of knowing, growing, and in a small cold moment -- Dying.
Points of Pleasure…
Points of pleasure mixed with pain -- these are the gentlest kind. Melancholy grief again -- a precious cruel find. Metronomic thoughts unwind in metered rhythmic rhyme. Twisted echoes of the mind caress a pantomime. Gentler features contraband Bind a martyred soul. Terror grips a tempered hand as gales begin to blow. Hurricane my troubled friend, ally in despair. Peaceful do you seem to me when I at times compare.
Remedy for Bright Eyes.
I cannot look up --
cannot even lift my eyes --
to the sun,
or the night sky.
Instead, I look away --
tears flow --
streaming down in rivulets,
dark salty things --
mixed with blood and fear.
They fall,
and I follow --
looking down.
Bereft of friendship --
companions --
and bright eyes.
Blank Verse.
Blank verses,
transcribed from years
of adolescent sorrow
Cannot be retraced,
and metered into rhyme.
They are the memories
of alibis
long retired from use.
They are bold unfulfilled summers
where daydreams held
more of life,
than climbing trees or flying kites.
Stone(d).
Having never been a stone before
the lack of soul disturbs me.
Turning stone was hard enough
without this cold to burn me.
I wish I'd never had the choice,
for then I'd never miss me.
All I'd know was innocence,
without a lip to kiss me.
Curtain Call…
Whenever was My curtain call --
and where was I to miss it?
No one cued my entrance,
no help could I elicit!
What actor took my lines away --
must I stand mute forever?
Watching from this alcove
rehearsing my endeavor!
I must come forth, this is My time --
my debut is essential.
No director testing me
must miss my true potential.
Hurricane II
I'm too near the ocean
to finish up a stream.
Standing on this precipice
I dream a sailor's dream.
Thoughts of river sources,
seem too far away.
I cannot see beginnings
oozing out of clay.
Waterfalls are hard to climb,
harder near the top.
Fighting current's not my style,
easier to drop.
Waves sometimes turn tidal, though,
storms breed hurricanes.
Perhaps if I assault the land,
She'll have to learn my name.
The world will have a word from me…
The world will have a word from me,
before I'm dusty air.
I must provoke its consciousness,
divulge my urgent prayer.
It will not turn my words away,
nor weaken my insistence.
I must persuade its mindlessness,
to honor my existence.
Sea Life…
I must desert this ragged ship --
move on to brighter seas.
Where sequined sirens lose their will,
unable now to please.
I must dance with the dolphins now --
then whistle with the whales.
While mermaids cast green curls about,
and wish for more than tails.
I must turn to face the wind
unfurl my glistening sails.
Where seabirds soar and cast about,
avoiding darker gales.