Quickly,
before a man tells you the infinity of women,
let me try and sound my drums the loudest,
let me beat this into your hand,
so you forever have a scar to frame your face with.
Not the ugly scars you spend caking powder upon,
but the beautiful ones, shaped something like-
sunflowers, texas, hearts, or lightening bolts.
I am an organic wanderer,
farming up ideas of the people,
people quieter than me,
People who have been taught to never speak, unless spoken to.
The same traditions I thought died with my great-grandparents generation,
but a genocide that still, very much exists.
I am the voice for those remaining so near to mute-hood,
they can't even recognize their own ideas,
especially after they've been dipped in ink, and capitalized.
People say "hey man, it's a tough world out there."
Cliches, like "roll with the punches." Or
"Keep on trucking."
Strands of words, interpreted by the simplest of men.
Causing the most complicated to question the simplicity of life.
And we buy into it, us women, we buy their purses,
we buy their shirts, with clever lines printed across our breasts,
because we think it makes us revolutionaries,
when in fact, we become the walking billboard for a world of fashion,
designed by men.
If we can sum up our lives in one philosophical fortune cookie,
then aren't we finished here?
Isn't our work done?
in response to ideas being murdered and raped,
girls tell me media is their muse,
with muted MTV in the background,
Lady gaga spreading her legs in a music video,
singing about freedoms we all had the chance to display first,
even before she copied Madonna,
before pointed bras were back in style.
All of these repeat offenders,
they tell ME, I am wrong.
They ask me questions starting in egotistical slurs,
ending with question marks, hoping I'll interpret their mind fucks
as silly, simple questions.
How dare you forget, NO one is smarter than me.
Have you ever seen the sunset on the glass of an ocean?
I am the woman standing beneath the sea,
capturing the colors, transforming them into words,
so you can hear about the way the sun looks,
while you sit upon mountain tops.
Ignoring the news, fires started by pure laziness,
by the flick of a cellular ember into a forrest
of dry brains, just waiting to be ignited.
And when that fire comes,
they run to us, like tortured, misguided ants,
asking for all the answers.
I have a purple ego,
mellow, yet still it exists.
WOMEN,
I beg of you,
PLEASE give me a reason
to feel like I shouldn't have an ego dripped in lace?
You stand around,
breast in hands,
butt in air,
taking money for sex,
trading looks for souls.
Arguing about how many things you can fit within your holes.
Where is the purpose driven woman?
Where did she go?
The women set on being far more intelligent
than any man they ever wrote about in the bible.
Because in the bible,
ladies, we were nothing but whorish burdens.
And yet, you look to the God who cast you away,
into years of suffering,
menstruation,
the pain of being devirginized,
child birth,
we are the ones who can, and will be raped.
Yet we fall to our knees and say "Thy will be done."
And yes, we are so close to being done,
I am waiting for your skin to burn,
so I can flip you within your tanning bed pan.
none of your flat, drawn out hair twirls,
and sexy curves can be undone.
So the rest of us,
become so ashamed of the rest of you,
we can't help but run.
Run from generalization,
Because if there is something I hate,
it is the acceptance of my fate.
I am woman,
woman stays home,
woman cleans gun,
woman gives birth,
woman shoots self.
When asked about starvation,
you respond with
"Oh no, haven't done that in years."
and cast away microphones within your eerie blush.
And sure, I do not speak of all of you,
the rest of you are poets,
stuck on the inspiration of marijuana,
with this fake ass hippie mind-set,
you speak of "energy" and "flow".
stuck on the migraine keeping you from speaking your mind.
Did you ever once think,
it may be your mind that is keeping you from surpassing the migraine?
Do you ever feel afraid?
What about the mothers of this world?
Drenching our daughters in every shade of pink,
We start off as blank canvas,
and if that's the case,
then PLEASE, cast every mother of every daughter into a fire.
We teach them how to primp,
how to be prim and proper,
how to take care of men.
This is NOT how women should stand.
Un-united, catty, two faced, bitches.
If you can be best described as a dog,
then where have you let your life wander?
I am not the woman you fuck and forget,
I am the wet dream you refuse to wake from.
Because in the heat of my passion,
I will question everything within you,
until you are forced to come to terms with the universe.
I am a universal symbol.
I do not rhyme with money,
I do not taste like honey.
I am the big fish, eating the bear at the bottom of the pond.
The more you realize,
I am powerful,
the more we will have in common.