I am always on display.
Mere arrival sculpted me in this affliction and
appointed me this unsought role:
A modern-day artefact in a museum of
clubs and bars and too-quiet streets.
From their vans; walking far too close;
sometimes in-step with defeated wives,
they watch with ravenous eyes,
although they are not hungry.
Fattened up by society, with
guilt-free snacks of seedy temptation,
they devour every bit, but are never full.
I know they would not look away,
in shame and shock
at my met gaze, if they were truly
Close your eyes.
Your prying lies
Will surely lead to my demise,
For I was born
To be more
Than just a simple wife.
I'm not a trophy by any means,
But I see marriage in your eyes --
Two rings staring right at who you think I am,
The one you want, but I never can
Be the girl that you desire.
You've been confusing my cold shoulder
For an igniting fire.
I'm not trying to call you a liar,
If anything, I'm the one concealing the truth.
I will never be just a wife,
I will lead my own fantastic life.
I'll never wear an apron, curls, or pearls.
I will never be your one and only girl.
I will live for myself and my daughters,
For all those women to come
All they can ever be is a housewife
Clad in pink.
Honey, there's so much more to this
Than a life in which you depend on a man
For your happiness.
Be your own other half,
Fall in love with your own smile.
In order to take her and her friends to the Women's Rights March,
Janey filled up the gas tank of her SUV at the local Gas Station.
She had given her email address to the Oil Company
And received a note of appreciation in her Google inbox,
"As the Head Cleric of the DAESH,"
"We would like to thank you"
"For supporting our gang rapes,"
"And massacres of Christians, Yazidis, and Kurds. "
"Every purchase of gasoline you make"
"Helps us to kill more people."
Janey was alarmed by this sort of disgusting
''Thank You Note'.
She showed it to her friend Deidra,
Who would be joining her at the Event.
Deidra was more environmentally conscious than her friend, Janey.
So, she just sighed,
"These Crazy Terrorists are right."
"Every time we purchase a gallon of gasoline,"
"The profits go to the same, Cruel Misogynists
"That we're protesting today."
Drunk on depression
Breathing through tubes
Fed at night
In the cage of the borough
On cocaine soliloquies
Driving on the right
Speaking in tongues
Crashing through the wall
Of absolute certainty
In doubt and mascara
Meat cleaver hands
Bargaining for the soul
Care giver corridors
Open to infection
Treaty of wherever
Good for Kerosene
Live on paper
DWP death sentence
Cancer of the bone
Mouth to mouth
Of the drinking classes
Flecks of jizz
On the tits of distraction
Pay gap mentality
On dead meat and banter
Liposuction of conscience
Free market sex attack
Fit to print
Fine to hate
Some people march in a band
For sports fans in the grandstands
Some march in the military
On bases from Hawaii to Italy
Some people march to be heard
Over all the events that occured
And on Saturday, amongst the crowd's clatter
I'm joining those who are doing the latter
It was Wednesday morning,
And my Inner Whiteman was feeling suicidal again.
I tried to cheer him up.
"Your candidate, Donald Trump, is going to be inaugurated on Friday."
"Aren't you happy about It?"
"Aren't you gonna' celebrate by having a few beers.
My Inner Whiteman responded to Me.
"Yeah, I voted for Trump, Jewboy,"
"But it wasn't because I 'like' him."
"It was just out of contempt."
"I hate them Liberal sonsofbitches!"
I felt really perplexed now......like Maimonides.
My Inner Whiteman voted for Trump without even LIKING him?
What the fuck?!
"Don't you like ANYONE, Whiteman?"
"I mean.....are you even CAPABLE of Love?"
My Inner Whiteman was not insulted by these questions.
He expected them.
"Yeah, I do love one person, Jewboy."
"All the other people I know are Scoundrels and Scam Artists."
"My dog is kind to me."
My Inner Whiteman really threw me a curveball with that remark.
He still wasn't making too much sense to me.
"But don't you like those Sexy Russian Women you're always staring at online, Whiteman?"
"Aren't you in love with them."
My Inner Whiteman,
Being a Christian,
Had to level with me.
"I don't like them Russian Women or love them Russian Women."
"I just LUST for them, Jewboy."
"I have lust in my heart."
"I just want to try out one of them Russian Women one of these days."
"See what she's like."
Because I had decided to pay attention to him,
My Inner Whiteman had started to snap out
Of his Suicidal Funk,
But he had some Words of Wisdom for me.
"Why don't you just cool your engines, Jewboy?"
"Spend some time on the Political Sidelines."
"We want to be In Control"
"And those Fembitches want to be in control."
"We're just gonna' have to fight it out."
"You ain't got no say in it, Jewboy."
My Inner Whiteman put his hand on my shoulders and said,
"Why don't you busy yourself"
"With your horticulture and your herbal concoctions?"
"The World needs people who can work with plants, Jewboy,
"But don't expect to cure us of Hate."
"The World hates us and we hate the World."
"So, it might be best for you"
"To just stay out of the fight."
I am fifteen years old
he’s been touching me like this for years
but I’m beginning to doubt I’ll ever be used to it
every time the door opens, my room starts to spin like a carousel
the possibility of his hands on my waist
will always make my stomach sick
he went from a brother to a predator so slowly
that I almost didn’t notice
instead, I noticed my own deterioration
I blamed myself
he’ll never know that he ruined me
I am twelve years old
a boy sitting across from me on my school bus
with hair the color of the sun
decides to move next to me
he presses his sweaty body against mine
my face is against the window
I can’t breathe
his lips move to my ear
his breath surrounds me and suffocates me
it smells like death and fear
I would cringe away
but I have nowhere to go
I am ten years old
despite the warmth of my parents’ room, I am shivering like crazy
he pulls me under his warm comforter
but I am far from comfort
his breath smells of alcohol as he whispers “don’t worry”
“I’m not going to touch you”
yet my heart has not slowed
and my shivering has not stopped
his lips press to mine and they taste like poison
his hands move my own across his large body
my head is spinning
I need to get out of here
I am eight years old
we are watching tv on the couch together
all my other brothers have gone to bed
but we were always the night owls of the family
his hands snake up my legs
they burn like flames
I push them away
as he tries to push them under my shorts
but he never gives up
no matter how many times I tell him no
even after years
of pushing him away
I am five years old
the boy who lives next door wants to play
we go into the bushes behind his house
my heart races with excitement
when he asks me to show him what’s under my skirt
it drops with fear
I want to cry
he tells me that if I say no he’ll send me home
we will never play together again
I run home in tears
I am two years old
as my mother is treating my diaper rash
she tells me to never let anyone else
see what’s under my nightgown
I am confused
I could never see how that could become an issue
or a challenge
little did I know that
by being a girl
I had been set up for a lifetime of danger
I guess my name is Baby
It’s not one that I’d choose
But strangers like to call me that
So I guess it’s what I’ll use
It’s been my name for years now
Since I was just fourteen
I’m not sure how I got it
I’m not sure what it means
I hear it very often
When I’m walking down the street
Just minding my own business
At first I found it neat
But then it just kept coming
Almost every single day
I heard my new name used
In so many different ways
Hey Baby your ass looks fuckin’ great
Hey Baby won’t you smile
Hey Baby I’ll take you to my place
And make it worth your while
I didn’t like it anymore
I wanted it to stop
I didn’t ever want to hear again
How they wanted me on top
Cause my name isn’t Baby
Never has it been
And I really truly hope to God
That it stops soon, but when?
Cause my name is not Baby
So I try to tell them off
But when I yell that back at them
They all just laugh and scoff
Cause I hate the name Baby
It makes my skin just crawl
It makes me feel very unsafe
And like I want to punch a wall
So please don’t call me Baby
Just don’t talk to me to start
I just want to walk to work you prick
I don’t want to hear your part
And please don’t try to pretend
That I’m just a “fucking prude”
I have no shyness about sex
I just don’t want to fuck you
So call me Baby one more time
I fucking dare you now
Call me Baby one more time
And I’ll knock your bitch ass down