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.
Mama God bring us out of the underworld into your light of heaven promised by the warm hearth of Demeter.
The patriarchal past has reached its demise yet no one moves aside from Durga’s mighty force of nature
Flooding us out of our old ideas and drying up the water that we use as tears of mother
Isis holds us dearly but her grip is slipping while we wiggle ourselves into poverty over inflated and Pushing down the last ounce of Kuan Yin’s service to walk in the shadow of Jesus
Lift the chin to the sun and Ra still remains
There is no extinction in the womb only crowding with elbows raised to answer the money call that is your last best hope to make it count before you die with Sedna scaring the power out of your sentimental heart
I cry for you
I weep for me
Maya Rose 