The other day Lisa, Anna and I overheard a nonversation that took me back in time to high school. We were at Ascot for day three (ladies' day), to see the fashion, the silly hats, the horse races (called stakes & cups) and maybe even gawk at some famous people.

Anna, Lisa and I were sitting at our table in the Windsor Enclosure - a flat area right by the racetrack. The other five girls in our clique (Leong, Sunny, Kim, Bili, and Sophy) had stepped away to be ready for the royals arrival at 2pm sharp.  

Everyone was well dressed, men in waistcoat and tie, and we women in formal daywear. The table closest to us was populated with another squad of college age teens. We tend to be garrulous but that other mixed coterie (16 guys and girls) weren’t friendly at all. They were insular and sharp eyed - they projected an air of smirking pride - a bunch of edinas.

Suddenly this one girl at the next table just comes-at another girl verbally. There seemed nothing the target girl could do except hold her head up, put on her best debate-smile and weather it out.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been exposed to it, but the exclusionary voice of the rich, consists of acrid, inactively-terse asides delivered with casual, drive-by cruelty. The most insufferable rich think (know) that they’re better than you - like you know you’re better than a cabbage or a dog and they are merciless, their hearts are made of hard, black-card plastic.

When used on pretenders, interlopers or social mountain climbers - the cold and mesmerizing bluntness can have a deep psychological effect. The response is usually passive intimidation but it can also induce violence.

This attitude (I think of it as “the voice”), is learned by example, and mastered early. I heard an eight year old girl turn it on a sales clerk once. Her mom apologized and reined in the little princess - but where do you think she learned it from?  

Anna looked at me, her eyebrows drawn down in alarm, Lisa said “Wowzer.” I just shook my head and shrugged - it wasn’t our business, we certainly didn’t know those knobs or what kicked it off - but we noted who the mean girl was - Anna even took her pic. They were Cree-P.

Our little group was soon reunited. We briefly gossiped about our rude, socially-obsessed neighbors but the incident was soon forgotten. Our champagne and strawberries arrived moments before Princess Anne and her daughter, Zara Tindall, rode by (20 feet away) in the Lead Carriage.

Now THERE are some REAL, world-class snobs. I hate that whole-*** upper-class attitude. That’s one reason to choose Yale over Harvard - fewer snobs.

Gun in one hand, bible in the other.
Is not the word a sword?
Why need for a gun too?
Or is it a justification to ****?
The same as a rocket launcher on one shoulder,
and the koran in the other hand.
Or a flag in one hand, and a sword in the other.
The image says justified intimidation.
Fear me, for I have the Authority.
But really, the Authority is only as valid
as there are fools who submit.
And the only true authority is the gun, or sword,
as you certainly know it.
And the flag, or bible, or the koran,
are but for your own conscience.
or cover for your lack thereof.

The bible and the gun:
an oxymoron;
a display of faithlessness,
the defilement of holiness,
a blasphemous act;
affirming the proud fool you are,
that says in its heart, there is no God!

I really, really don’t want to be beautiful.

I want to make people tremble.

I want to walk into a room and turn people’s heads- not because I’m pretty, but because I walked in with such confidence that people go “****.”

I want the wrong people to be scared by me, and the right people to take me as a challenge, but I want everyone to be intimidated by me.

I want to be the woman no one dares **** with.

I want to be compared to Cleopatra- not in terms of how pretty or symmetrical her face was, but because she seduces men into her bed with her mind and intellect.

I want to be compared to powerful and unstoppable forces of nature, where they aren’t powerful Because of their beauty, but beautiful because of their power.

So this is why I get insulted when you call me pretty before you call me smart.

Realisation of thrilling intimidation
Silenced words and holding looks
The second I gaze up and find your eyes, for those seconds I am stuck in a fragile moment
Not wanting to leave but unable to admit what’s keeping me so transfixed.
Caught by your eyes in something, that I cannot back away from
Stillness of those exhilarating moments
Wishing you would reach out and touch me, lighting this electricity purring through my blood
Too cowardly to act on my own desires, my own wishful fate
I patiently wait.
Wait for a little more secluded occasion, away from fear of opinion or judgment
Enjoying the lost moment and loud vibration,
Drowning out all conversation and surroundings
Unnoticed by others, whilst being unmoved by others
Hoping that my feeling doesn’t go unrequited, but if it were…
We wouldn’t play these games together

I smile and shatter the glass bubble in which we have held ourselves

They criticize her and make her hate the moment
Her dignity and pride is stolen
They break her stance and potent
She does succumb the omen
They offer her zero condolence
They laugh and mock and curse her
They call her *******
They call her a ****
and other names of such
They drain her to danger red
They call her witch and theft
They make her hate herself
She scurf her face and wept
She cry herself to sleep at night;
Hoping that things would change
She 'd told herself that things 'd be right;
One day my pain and scar would fade
and if she would never fly
She said " I’d rather die"
She strive to reframe her picture
Her heart and soul is injured
She strive to reframe her name
So she 'll overcome her shame
Now the path to succeed is open
She's out the heat of oven
She smiles behind her rolex
Her foes is rendered goalless
Her shame has turned to fame
And her life is not the same
Her haters now adore and love her
Now none of them can stop her
Their hate and game and hurt
is the reason for what she'd turn

Don't look into his eyes, look down
He's bigger than you and he wears a frown
You can't rely on your fists
Fighting is not your gift
you are not action man or a superhero
Violence won't win the day
your too proud to cry
and tears hide behind your eyes
stiff upper lip has you caught behind it.

You have no rights as a father
You hope to God she won't take your children away
Being a Saturday Dad is not ok
Your insecurity is she find someone better than you
Is love enough will it do?

Locked up tight in a lover's cage
Easy target for all his rage

Lies being continually fed
I love you was said
Caught in his web

Sweetly tainted words he continued to weave
How was I ever that ****** naive
Blindly continuing to believe

Moved far from home and friends, freedom firmly suppressed
Long sleepless nights and days of no rest
As his crazy obsessions slowly manifest

Walking on eggshells till the next rampage
Locked up tight in an iron cage
Easy prey for all his rage

Never really knowing why or when the next attack
One word taken wrong, my jaw he would jack
Kept constantly pregnant, so I couldn't fight back

I realize from the outside looking in it's hard to construe
People say leave, but they haven't the slightest clue
But here on the inside, he means every death threat that's spewed

They just don't know that type of griping fear
Of keeping your children safe and near
While trying to hide all the violence from their eyes and ears

What if I left, tried to break free
Would he **** me, like he promised with glee
Would the kids survive, there's no guarantee

I know if he raised them, they would surely be twisted  
As adults would they follow in his steps, also be addicted
I fear their view of love would grow so sadistic

I was determined to get my kids out of his hellish cage alive
One day my opportunity did faithfully arrive
Leaving him to rot in his own putrid cell, while watching us thrive

               NEVER AGAIN

Will I be locked up in a lover's cage

               NEVER AGAIN

Will I be an easy target for rage

©Pauline Russell