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 Sep 2012 Whitney
MaryJane Rebel
I am a child
The loneliest kind of child
An only child
Suited with vividly wild imagination, a vernacular beyond my years and a need for understanding encouraged by parents who believed in the truth with an answer for every question.
I am a beast
Angry and wild
With a passion so burning I am in awe I am not on fire
I am alone
 Sep 2012 Whitney
MaryJane Rebel
Fall is ****** upon me like puberty on a child
The anticipation and excitement of ****** change
A new precipice to fall from
Reminding me summers love long ago faded
A relationship transformed into a festering wound
Oozing rot masked sweetly with the scent of candied words
Brown and furry
Caterpillar in a hurry,
Take your walk
To the shady leaf, or stalk,
Or what not,
Which may be the chosen spot.
No toad spy you,
Hovering bird of prey pass by you;
Spin and die,
To live again a butterfly.
 Sep 2012 Whitney
The Wicca Man
When first I saw you,
you were lying on a green bank laughing at the sky
as you watched the clouds scud by
and you saw all kinds of shapes in those clouds
and gasped in awe as the myriad of birds
soared and wheeled through the clouds.

Your laugh skipped across the distance between us
like magical notes from a faery harp.
The sunlight lit up your golden hair
making diamonds out of the shafts of sunlight
as you turned your head to and fro
making the sunbeams dance to your tune.

And about your head was a halo of white lilies …

When next I saw you
you were hand in hand with your love
walking into the sunlight from the grey stone church.
Your brocade of white entwined with golden thread
sparkled like a million gems.
Your face was bright and alive with smiling eyes
and your golden hair fell down around your face
catching the sunbeams.
And ringing out their joy, the church bells pealed for you.

And in your hand was a bouquet of white lilies …

I saw you again
on that same green bank laughing with joy
as your golden child frolicked in the warm summer sun,
her childish laugh mingling with your own in angelic harmony.
You grasped her up and, wheeling her skyward,
faces upturned, letting the sunbeams play around you
and then, holding her close, you sank to your knees
cradling the babe, letting the love flow out and around you both.

And in the child’s small hand was grasped a single white lily …

The next time I saw you
you were quietly sitting in the late summer sun
comfortable in your chair watching the golden sun flame red
as it sank below the distant horizon.
Your golden hair now not so vibrant
and your face etched with the many years of your long life
yet when you smiled at the glory of the setting sun, the sparkle of your eyes
was not dimmed at all.

And around your feet grew a field of white lilies …

The last time I saw you
I gave you my hand and, with fingers entwined,
we walked away from the sombre crowd whose tears flowed like pearls
as the stark white coffin was lowered into the ground.
And looking into your face I saw you again
as you were that first time,
your golden hair that fell as rivulets
around your now pale, sad face.
I took that face in my hands and gently kissed your lips,
no more than a whisper, like a gentle spring breeze teasing the blossoms.
Still hand in hand, we looked back at the sad scene and then turned and walked into the light.

And all about your grave lay white lilies.
 Sep 2012 Whitney
Rudyard Kipling
When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can.
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,
They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws.
’Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man’s timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,
For the Woman that God gave him isn’t his to give away;
But when hunter meets with husband, each confirms the other’s tale—
The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man, a bear in most relations-worm and savage otherwise,—
Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise.
Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact
To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.

Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,
To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.
Mirth obscene diverts his anger—Doubt and Pity oft perplex
Him in dealing with an issue— to the scandal of The ***!

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same;
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity—must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions—not in these her honour dwells.
She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.

She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great
As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate.
And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim
Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.

She is wedded to convictions—in default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him who denies!—
He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild,
Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.

Unprovoked and awful charges— even so the she-bear fights,
Speech that drips, corrodes, and poisons—even so the cobra bites,
Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw
And the victim writhes in anguish—like the Jesuit with the squaw!

So it cames that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer
With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her
Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands
To some God of Abstract Justice—which no woman understands.

And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not govern—shall enthral but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail,
That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the Male.
It's never quite right, he said, the way people look,
the way the music sounds, the way the words are
written.
It's never quite right, he said, all the things we are
taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we
die, all the lives we live,
they are never quite right,
they are hardly close to right,
these lives we live
one after the other,
piled there as history,
the waste of the species,
the crushing of the light and the way,
it's not quite right,
it's hardly right at all
he said.

don't I know it? I
answered.

I walked away from the mirror.
it was morning, it was afternoon, it was
night

nothing changed
it was locked in place.
something flashed, something broke, something
remained.

I walked down the stairway and
into it.
 Sep 2012 Whitney
Tearani C
Today
 Sep 2012 Whitney
Tearani C
Today my heart bleeds in my open chest,
My head rest on a stained pillow case
And my thoughts chase their tails inside my head.
Today I spent to many hours alone,
Waiting for my mistakes to play out,
Watching the stakes grow high,
As circumstance and fate conspired
To show me exactly how alone an individual can be.
Today the breeze blew a whisper
So soft and free, I hate the things it said
About how I’m losing me.
I can’t remember where I’m going ,
I have forgotten where I’ve been.
I remember being shorter
But never feeling like a kid
Today I spent hours wishing I could
Feel like something I could recognize
Wishing I could hide inside
The dreams I used to have,
Wishing I could grasp at things
I used to understand.
Today I fell and the ground flew up
So fast to hit me hard.
Today I realized that loving myself
Just shouldn’t be so hard.
And that my broken smile has
Its own wicked cynical charm.
I’m still breathing, so why can’t I
For the life of me
Feel like I’m living.
Today is just another day
I fell through,
but whether or not I lived it,
well I couldn't really tell you.
 Sep 2012 Whitney
Tearani C
How do you spit acid and warp the way
Perception soaks up reality
And then stroll up like you have curls
And didn’t steal that poor kids candy?
Demanding I start handling
All the cracks in your porcelain heart?
Thinking you can catch me
And make me who I was before
You tore my wings off and broke
Every promise you ever made.
Think you could have made me stay
In the pouring rain, endure the dark.
But the things you said and the way you say
Makes people think differently, when
It just don’t quite line up.
It kills me , draws on my old pains
And feels strange to turn you down.
But I can’t stick around and listen to your *******.
It’s you….
Or me…
And I have friends who’ll miss me.
And you make me lose hope in humanity,
Oh yeah and grip on my sanity.
Find someone else to blink your
Big
Blue
Eyes at.
 Sep 2012 Whitney
Tearani C
Do you know what kills me more than all the others that walked away?
Your gentle sway and the way the light plays in your bright eyes,
The build of your shoulders and the sound of your sighs.
It puts me to sleep ends my misery ,the way your kissing me
Breaths life back into me, is creating a heaven out of my reality
And breaking my walls down to show me my opportunities.
It moves me closer to my light erupting into flame,
When I watch the way your tender lips -caress around my name.
The feelings I get when I’m so tightly pressed
Against  every sweet smelling inch of your broad lovely chest,
How it takes away breath at the beat of your heart
And  how every “ I love you” left its own mark,
From the first time you said it, when we met at the start.
Mingling nicely with your sunrays spraying sparks,
Your presence  in all when you’re standing so tall
Is so overwhelming, that look in your eyes,
Tells stories of desires and wanting that yearns
The distance between us screams while it burns
And when you walk away, you’ll **** me for sure.
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