We come from different sides of reality

oh, its quite a tragedy

5 foot 2 blonde hair blue eyes

the reality some seem to despise

Hidden behind every corner is a new obstacle one must attack

Constantly I watch my back

women in the world today

constantly watching what we weigh

lack of support

so we try to conform

Become exactly like you want

yet my devils still haunt

You will never know the truth to my reality

oh its quite a tragedy

The blue lady got so worked up, decided to insisting on hanging clothes outside the window, regardless the warning from everyone. And her reckless attitude rankled me even more. But she did it any way, in this rainy day, and the slippery window-sill was not enough of a handle to hold, and there she suddenly falling out of the window…

What should I do? One voice was saying she deserved it.. but the other voice said, just go checking on her. I peeked outside the window. She was struggling to hold onto the edge of the building tight… She didn’t quite fall off yet…

Quick, I called Dan to the rescuing scene. A tall man as him, can easily reach her hands from far distance. I was holding onto him too, so that he won’t get dragged away with her. This blue lady finally got inside…

I laid a warm cozy bedding for her to warm up her body… her shivering body finally calmed down… face coming back to warm buttery color…

I ended up my dream with a soliloquy…

Was that me that reckless blue lady? the voice calling her deserving the fate of falling that’s from me? the one calling Dan to the rescue scene, where in reality, he’s actually thousands miles away in Hawaii right now? or the one who brought warm woven wool blanket to wrap her up and drying her up me? Which one is actually my voice? Why would I be feeling so many voices torn at all different directions all at once, the same time even in my dreams? Annoyance, justification, hatred, judgement, sympathy, kindness, and tender feelings… they are all me?!

Life is interestingly a big pot of messed stew, with all flavors, emotions, sensations, all boiled up together, and through me and me only, through the ups and downs, that then finally found the divinity inside.

Don’t settle for demeaning conversations

For the endless drum of interruptions

men making feminism about them

who want to tell you, again,

the story of emasculation

Have no patience for:

“you can’t even talk to chicks anymore”

complaints that a small part of their freedom

has been re-examined,

that now

oppressors have to think before they voice

what

they want

to

do to you when no one is looking

Don’t settle for:

- strangers’ hands on your teenage thighs

- ‘accidental’ grinding on public transport

- bosses who come too close and invite you out for a drink

- working twice as hard with half the recognition

- never being listened to

- seeing your ideas live on in the works of others

- the worst role in every group project, the smallest room in every house,

meaningless apologies, men expelling their ego full of toxic waste

on you

and

everyone

who comes crawling

only

when they need you

anyone

who ever makes you feel

like

nothing

Don’t settle

expectations traded for club entries

late-night dinner dates or the name cock-tease

’But why don’t you come to mine, are you scared? I won't hurt you'

People making a verbal show

of concern and affection

with none of the action

others desperate for action and wingeing

the guilt-trip into unprotected sex

& “it’s because I love you”

the space you weren’t allowed to have

the friends you couldn’t talk to, the people you couldn’t see

because

otherwise

he’d get upset

Don’t settle for

never demanding an apology from the men who never get your name right

whispering baby through the night

lovers who compare you to their exes

on a weekly basis

and blame you when you get upset

and never thank you for the late nights the words the time

you wasted loving them

Don’t settle

for less than you deserve

because

this world

won’t give you anything

unless

you

take

it.

i. the infant sees the sickeningly bright flourescent lights of a dreary operation theatre

when she is born, her mother screaming in pain, she struggles to grasp

the fact that it is over-her challenging ordeal, a test of the human spirit, but her child's has only just begun

a lifetime of broken hearts, debilitating cramps, moods that fluctuate-anger, sadness, despair

as often as the azure butterflies flitting to and from the viridescent leaves of cornflowers aglow in the early light

ii. she enters adolescence, unsure, tepid, hanging onto dregs, remembrances, stolen of childhood innocence

the walls are slippery, her arms tired and she lets go- into the chasm of impending adulthood

the sheets under her are stained red for the very first time, a mark of the womanhood she yearns for

her thoughts overflow, new romances, feelings only hushed and gossiped about in

slumber parties underneath rose-coloured, soft blankets amongst the girls she grows up with

iii. sounds filter through the tension-filled air as the restless, evolved woman approaches motherhood

the bedside monitor beeps unsteadily, wavering, the balance of mortality and those that defy it

ice chips gravitate to her like icarus to the upending sky, some relief from the agony of the miracle of life

a lover stands by, patient as the rain clouds in summer, grasps her sweat-riddled fingers- perhaps it is a fever dream

sedated, calmed down, her daughter, cradled in her lap, swaddled by an adoring gaze- she will be loved, as a woman can

Sadness, hopelessness, anger, and especially hatred. These are all love under a guise, hidden beneath a veil. All emotions, they are love pretending to be something else. I know this, because I know the pure essence of love, it is simply the sentiment: I care. There is only caring, and not caring, a perfect duality. It is like black and white: all-encompassing, or completely void. Love and apathy. I will play out for you, my formula, the process in which I transmute and alchemize these poisons:

I am made sore and disappointed by most other poets. No one seems to have any real vision. We have been repeating ourselves for centuries now like a nagging mother. Yet, we think we are saying something completely new! We have not even found a new way to say it! We are proud of ourselves, our intellectualism. Skeletons which we must now sweep away, dead, and underwhelming. I fill with hate for all who think yourself so wise, and it is only your one-eyed intellect, you lack depth perception. You lack it entirely. What are you working toward? If you don't have a goal in mind, why are you standing here squawking your verse? What is it your poetry will do for the species? A poet cannot be so self-involved that he writes his poems only for himself to be heard. I assume that is why some slam poets are always shouting into the microphone: no one listens to them, and so they try to scream over the static. Still, no one is listening to you, what have you got to say? Yes, I am addressing you directly, false prophet, frightened one, lonesome one, one with the shrill voice, and other. You are the reason the death of poetry came about in the first place. You have strangled it, and twisted it, so that now the idea of a poet is a moody teenager slitting her wrists! You should be ashamed; I am pounding on the chest, and forcing the lungs full of my dank, sour breath, while you stand there full of your egoist declarations, complaining of your mother, and your loves gone wrong; while the muse dies! How could I not loathe the murderer of the only woman I've ever loved?

That woman is you! Dear poet, let me explain: I love you like a suicide-friend. I watch you closely, the squint of the eye, the corner of the mouth, the trilling in the voice. You are a soul on fire; the very concept of self-immolation, annihilation. You are my own death: the coolness, the blue safety, and the walls holding it together, or exploding outward in an eruption of stars. You, are the future. Can't you see? Your words matter, I am listening, the dead are listening, the universe is listening! Dylan Thomas said “Don't go gentle into that good night!” but I say: tread lightly, speak softly, you will change the world someday, you are the world! I say: I hear you my sister, my brother, I feel you. Do better, speak, and be sure in the pools of your heart, that you are being listened to: I love you.

A wretched soul, Rimbaud, your letters make me weep: I love you.

Christianity: mislead children of the opulent omnipresent: you are causing wars, fooled into genocide, a ploy to take over the world. You have taught me so much: I love you.

Free souls, tarot fool: you live like animals, poor and bodiless, full of mind and only feasting on the mind. The sun shining on your skin, you are like a plant: transcended: I love you.

Palo Alto, Silicon Valley, Bay Area. When did you only begin to care for yourself? Why do you turn inside out like a gluttonous animal, devouring everything in sight? Don't you know you can change everything, if you just stopped eating? You will get full one day. That will be the day you remember the hand that fed you: I love you.

Military you are genocide in yourself! Cannibal of society: you make men into dogs; with the mind of a stone or a log. You poisoned the minds of my grandfathers and bred into my a taste for chaos. You illuminate the stupidity of war, and, mirages aside: show be visions of nations laying butterfly kisses upon vast freckled cheeks: stop fighting, just hook up already: I love you.

Father who exiled me with your boldness and blue eye, don't you know we are the same? Come to love yourself, and you will be beloved: I love you.

Plagues, and nations, and murderers, and atheists: you are so concerned with the actions of others that you lose the existence of yourself: I love you.

Understand what I am telling you now. There is nothing but love. It is nectar and ambrosia: delicacy of the gods. We do not feast upon it ourselves because we do not see the divine spark in our own eye, in the eye of every living thing. Understand every life as though it were your own, because it is. Uncomplicate the thoughts, and emotions in your mind, and drink only from the crystal clear fountain of love, fountain of knowledge, fountain of youth. Ace of Cups. Learn to wash yourself clean of miseries, make yourself to stand, and continue: I love you.

#subtleemotion #sadness #hopelessness #anger #hate #love #emotionalintelligence #prose #poetry #alchemy #shadowwork #witchcraft #spirituality #war #humanity #tarot #lovereimagined #lovereinvented #economy #society #inequality #seperation #unity #togetherness #scarypoetvoice

I gave it all that I had but it wasn’t enough

I married so young and I knew it'd be tough

But they don’t teach you the skills to take care of yourself

Or that marriage can truly impact on your health

The first year started out with a rocky beginning

By the end, my pregnancy had both of us grinning

The second flew by with some struggles as well

We were such happy parents but going through hell

We decided to move country to start a new life

So we moved to Australia, just to be faced with new strife

Our income was low but we loved life and each other

By the third year we had started to bag one another

Suddenly, there was a side to this man I had not seen

He would cuss, get angry and had started to be mean

Yes life was stressful and moving at a slow pace

But that’s life, and these times you're supposed to embrace

Life moves so damn fast and the years fly on by

When I look back at the years I just sit there and cry

We had such an opportunity, such a big chance

And we let it slip by, without even a glance

We were just so caught up on the trivial things

So we never addressed any of our bad feelings

We let them fester until they would explode

I would hold in my feelings, god I thought I'd implode

You were scary to confront, I feared how you'd react

Would you yell or be broody, planning your counterattack

You could never take criticism not even from me

But you were always telling me how communication is key

You want to know what I'm thinking, and why I am so sad

But you don’t understand that you've driven me mad

One second you're fine, and then the next you're not

You switch randomly between freezing and hot

So that sums up the fourth year and most of the fifth

Have another child they said, don't you know they're a gift?

Well I had another but it didn’t do much

Except trap me even more in this marriage of such

Towards the end of the fifth that’s when all hell broke loose

When your mental health crashed from the workplace abuse

I pretty much raised our kids alone for that year

But I suck as a mum, from you, I did hear

The sixth year was intense but I held on through it all

I just focused on work and the kids I recall

I tried my best to move forward move on with my life

I even tried to forget that I was your wife

The sixth year passed and now on to the next

When I finally picked myself up in the job context

I landed the job of my dreams that I worked so hard for

But you took that from me, reasons why I'm unsure

Were you jealous of me or of all my success

Because I lost my job due to you being “depressed”

Since then its been harder than I thought life could be

I'm surprised that I haven't hung myself from a tree

For now I'm in the eighth year of this marriage of mine

And all I can do is pretend it is all fine

But its not and I'm sad and I want to be dead

But I'm scared to place that gun to my head

One day it will end but I want you to know

That I did all that I could and put on a good show

But I can't keep this up and I can't always be strong

I'm a drama queen you will say but you couldn't be more wrong.

People will speak of our power

as if it can be given or taken away.

Forgetting how it has been earned,

passed down through generations,

continually tested time and again.

At times it may feel a heavy burden.

There will always be those who wish

to drown out our voice with their own.

Fill our heads with antiquated values,

to hold our hand when we are capable

of standing firmly on our own.

Let them be threatened by a mind

that refuses to waiver at any cost.

That refuses to be torn down.

There will always be those who wish

to remind us of the place we hold,

of natures infinite wisdom where

a woman is concerned.

In those moments of doubt,

we must remember to seek out

the wisdom that lives inside of us,

in the pain that we encounter,

in each challenge we rise to meet.

As there are so many more ahead.

Gender equality is a romanticized term. As if we could all be equal. Physiologically speaking men are usually physically stronger than women. However, with cultural shifts in ideology, self-actualization is in high demand. Beyonce’s single ladies are running the world, and transgendered people have recently received empowering protections in the workforce. Ultimately, we are all as empowered as we’d like to be. Even science has been persuaded to deny nature. Nature has denied us predictability. So I’d call it equitable. Isn’t it romantic?

Woman will not have their voices taken away

We have been ignored for far too long

We are united against oppression

We are not to be sexually harassed

We are strong

We have had to fight for all our rights

Just because a politician has a vote

Doesn’t mean they can take away our freedoms

Our empowerment

Our rights to our own bodies

We have a right to equal pay

We are a united sisterhood

We our daughters of our Heavenly Father

We are blessed with minds and body that are strong enough to endure

To fight

To win

To achieve anything

Don’t even think of treading on us