how they try to taint my name staining my character with smirk and a sarcastic story about how they survived the war wounds of a woman gone off and not suited to the pedestal her trophy sits on.
Victim ashes to dust on the bookshelf moldy writers looking upon the textbook not finished and frames slightly crooked.
Siblings and sisters in law thrown under the bus labeled bi-polar and do it all better master. The dinner party guest will be offended if they see your diary out on the table. let me just peek at the pages and punish you for taking out the trash without permission.
Skipping the recycling this week to tend to the rat race in downtown danbury to prove I can record my story to a faithful believer. Scammed repeat pride of my flock of Hitchcock birds attaching security cameras at the front door with voice activation to take away my right to complain of injustice.
The block party still goes on each wednesday at the center green where the rich folk entertain the poor landscape with a folksy concert that we all get to escape each other and tell the tail to the seasons.
a guilt that aches at even the barren labeled sisters and aunts.
The teachers, nanny’s all pair up together for a collective burden that fate can’t escape.
The belly button
belly up 2 belly jelly
2belly is the ping pong of a yin yang destiny.
We run but never hide
the chromosomes merging a polarity of I have to rely on him for nothing. He is not dependable anyway to take care of the screaming youngster that I created
and force you to babysit dad.
The great negotiation shared with the very flesh of your thighs
pried open by the smiling nurse and a bright overhead light.
First to see you dad
in the waiting room passing out cigars and dreading
the loss of the bat cave but solid in the architecture of the SheShed….
oh man oh man… I should wait to call him?
Two three days by the phone wondering why on mars they don’t know how to dial it up when the hyena cawls…
Chained and blue balled playing poker with the only dudes who give a scoobie dooo…
Sick and tired of the cartoons and video games in the background of shitting the pants.
Cradle to grave inescapable village
whether the seed sprout sacral sacred pains in the kneck. A massage is in order that the stingy ones can’t afford
and the barista dares to put out a tip jar. Gotta get the bugs out using my raised voice cuz they had it coming.
My house.
get thee to thy own sand pile
that fills every inch of the great outdoors.
There lies your serenity and sanctuary from the fraid knot play that you were in fond remembrance that fourth of july,
when we had the whole family over. Including mother…. eekkkk.
she cutsin line to get the last piece of blueberry pie to ease the lack of a family of hunger and addiction.
Absorbed and observed by spirits long dead
but forgotten in the web of ancestory.com. A community of witdraw my sword before bleedin gives me another task to do
before it is time to hit the hay.
Counting sheep that she longs to impress with a clever antidote to superficial desires
born of shame accepted in the wrestling ring.
Pray
pray
that my narcissistic need for individuality makes me the good one to fall
pray to
holding onto stunted growth that my choices decide to nurture or abandon.
Anger at the
of her rope and
within me the whole time.
Guilt number one,
shame number two,
anger number three,
apathy number four and fear number five. Six of us deluded and distorted thought process to bring me back to the relationship in which I was wounded by.
A wheel set just beyond belief and desperate to catch a mistake before the spelling bee and pta parade.
Every so often mother gleams a magic thought that something is different and some
how a change will break up
or down to be the possibility of capable caring. The possibility of life.
The possibility of baby eyes showering off the manipulative problem solve.
Training pants and theories taken from the fray to reach a practical stage of information solutions.
Deeper and deeper to relate it all
to another person and be seen as worth a dam without exposing any vulnerability, therefore diminishing mine.
The new birth giggle joy opportunity to reset.
Relift. Recommit and resubmit
to a higher power
and the lower power left out of the equation yet runs the show.
Sun Mom. Moon Dad.
Reflecting the same light eclipsed by the spark in their eyes and burning the house to the ground.
Don’t believe your own feeling.
Feelings gaslit bad ta da all your flaws exposed to my trust. Feelings ba humm bug.. Feeling no doubt. Doubt.
Wrong with you not me taking your feelings out of the mix.
Feelings don’t matter when I appear in control and isolate you before you discover the tingling in your fingertip.
Feelings be gone when I wear the pants and the shoes are made for walking.
Feelings be drag when interfere with our trauma bond to make me redemptive.
I brought you in, I can take you out.
God has no place here.
Goddess happy, papa happy.
No Jesus Merry or joseph on planet earth. Only me as mother.
Fending for myself. lost and forgotten and
barely a teenager just stepped foot into adult and
given all the co=dependencies to not
kill the kids and the marriage in the biggest fight to
a new century riding with a stuck foot in a generation of x’s and why’s all over the progress we where supposed to inherit. 1968 promised us in Nam. I am like a ring leader defending Brit to be both the girl next store and the vixen not shocked by Sinead O’conner with a bald bold head of protest and poetry.
An activist fighting hard for the supreme label of having your cake and eating it 2 without the need to hook a rich man to hire the nanny. We much choose one to prevent the pounce we put onto our lovers made to be responsible for it all. Know your place woman. No justice no peace with my hands up to the status quotients on my report card faded by age and time askew.
A garden ready to give to all when allowed by the office manager to breast feed in public. Ambition ridden under ground and neglecting the pachamama screaming from an isolated room for the grandmothers to arrive and set the record straight. Holding hands with the holy father who has been placed in an impossible position of saint to life of the working legit. 2 Be Woman. all whole. All holy. side by side with the daddy’s and the nanny’s. The load bare naked facing the split. the crack. the booty slap in sensual poverty and supple nectar.
a thing I am not supposed to say in the starry starry night by the ocean.
wave sounds in my bathroom to recover from the ptsd of a life turned over. A death of me that goes un noticed and her defensive blind jealous anger stops him from speaking my name.
A fear to say what I see and a shush to stop me from giving in to the outside world of imminent danger. You let me down by not providing a healthy model of clear hearted relationships. No cookie cutter symbol to strive to in the arms of love but to be feared with rage offing the big buffalo’s spirit.
The face they show all smiles and forever goes out sighing with a spank and a hit from the fly swatter to out the dam dam thankless child. Forever child in their eyes. Innocent demon meant to prize fight for your affection and back stab to honor your light from a ball of flames. The gas is in their hands and kerosene burns oxygen.
12 years old the end of innocence by a crew of four. Monkey in our see and do using the sister as a punching bag and a substitute for puberty not spoken. A creepy sexual assault to a 7 year old beauty knowing only the big brother attention and not the tween teen Man in the Yellow Hat. Wearing my pants baggy and my shirt extra large protecting the game of titty twister and 7 minutes in heaven.
wHY IS IT so hard totalk about Sex when we all come from doing it. Sperm and egg chicken bagock jesus juice tempting all matter. The kids need to know but the folks say be a virgin whore and just wear a condom bebe daddy. Hidden truth made shame on you for being a pervert and getting yourself molested again. This time by a girl still old to me at 12 not seeing a 16 year old black cuz left out in the cold next to her barbie doll bestie. My vaJJ just politely listens to the gurgle in my gut and stops at titty twister fearing spin the bottle. Adults oblivious and Hushed.
terrified to piss off mommy lest be pissed on like rain that cracks a golden sun like the locks of her hair shimmering in the wind. No mama I won’t be a houseHoldDrudge like you dared your poising arrow to hold me in place while running a mile to meet my man scared away by her projected boomer generation bondages to a home and a husband and good cheerleader. Sexy but hates sex game of truth or dare peek a booo. hoo. mama why put dat on me…. cant you do your own work I see you doooin already but give yourself no credit. Leave it to the Cleavers to chain our Ladies to a tradition in a kiddie pool of burning bras and I shall not be moved by the kkk.KArmic voices.
Her wrath in my head committee and an absent father to reinforce the bananas and distract the critic mean to a sound of happy trumpets. Dancing my dance in a cloud of hope and a desperate plead to get they to stop the trial. justice in my pencil it paints circles around confusion of who.The owlhoot.Theonetrue. Not a uu lost in left brain searching forgetting that the answer is to question. Curiosity..self critical girl.
Pat on the back for reaching the top of the mountain to see the error of your ways and the misdirection of your love. A love hidden in 22 and an instant family in a world named mulatto zebra and oreo niggar. 21 men’s world named dig for gold in a pot to penny pinch from; especially when you are poor and black and jungle love tryin ta be anything they say we are to keep us in or place. The pecking order that you duck duck goosed onto me and siblings play on all the world named stage. A wooden O, empty temple where art raised the holy spirit in my forbidden salvation. Mad as a hatter but we had some Good Thymez.
Maya Rose 