Women are the vessels that hold life
for Nine 1/2 weeks like Kim Basinger
Call me Mickey.

Women adorned Da Vinci paintings with a half smile
martyrs in the flames of freedom
Call me Joan.

Women that nurture life
the greatest man to ever walk our path
call me Mary.

-and yet we’re reduced to calling them “*****”
because our male brains can’t reach to nothing more.

Women in revolutionary trenches
artist, poets, our strongholds, mend no fences
call me Frida.

Women our souls, our backbones
endless spinal chords that keep us up
call me Theresa.

-and yet “*****” is the word that dominates our tongues
when we refer to them.

Women the leaders, the warriors
the fighters, the valor of the coward
call me Cleopatra.

Women the lovers, the pleasers
that feed us and keep us up on our feet
call me Anne Boleyn.

-and yet “*****” infiltrated our vocabulary
like a terminal cancer, let’s get rid of it.

In a great fountain garden,
tulips and lovely flowers bloom,
vibrant colours give life
to the Hampton Court Palace

Catherine of Aragon sat with grace,
watching the tranquil sky
as the bird sends sweet greetings
She slowly wipe the sadness coming
from her eyes

The Roman Catholic fell down from King Henry's hand
as the pope opposed his wish
Tyranny started to rule,
20 years of love and struggles come to an end

'Oh father, my heart is in pieces. Spare me the light, make me alive.'
Catherine whispered an agonized cry
begging for mercy in the Heaven's above,
she stood up and smiled in so much pain
Then slowly, she walked away
knowing Henry and Anne Boleyn is in a happy place.*

a.k

cruelly,love
walk the autumn long;
the last flower in whose hair,
they lips are cold with songs

for which is
first to wither,to pass?
shallowness of sunlight
falls,and cruelly,
across the grass
Comes the
moon

love,walk the
autumn
love,for the last
flower in the hair withers;
thy hair is acold with
dreams,
love thou art frail

—walk the longness of autumn
smile dustily to the people,
for winter
who crookedly care.

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body.  i like what it does,
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

She never spoke of sanity
Normal never lost her lips
She thought not much of clarity
Preferring to speak with hips.

She never thought to tell me
How memory was in her hair
It curled and fell like weeping willows
But never felt so fair.

She never wanted to explain
How her footprints left the ground
How she walked the clouds and drank the rain
Why she still looked at me when the sun was with her.

Though she left quietly I still recall
She told me why in her hands
She held me like she was about to fall
And fall she did to lower lands.