Fueling The Fire
You try to rip our tongues out
Tell us to be silent
A hushed winter night blanketed in snow
Beauty and fairy dust
Seen not heard
A collection of parts, bought and sold and examined
The process of dehumanization is slow and insidious
So much that the True Believers
Are willingly transformed and drip and melt like hot candle wax
Until they become the smooth-skinned dolls
Painted and postured for your pleasure
Bowing their heads and swallowing your semen
Distancing themselves from their own pleasure
Until they are your blind and obedient servants
Nothing more than hollow cavities into which you can
Pour your disease-riddled fluids
A fire cannot exist without oxygen
Which explains the suffocating layers of bullshit
You try to stuff into our pulsing brains
So inflamed and enraged
We know that our power scares you
Our sexuality frightens you
Whores, sluts, bitches
A woman who knows her strength is a danger to your hierarchy
A gnarled and jagged tree that topples
Onto your white-washed, brittle, crumbling castle
So gather your knights, call up your bloodhounds
Sharpen your axes, fill up your cannons
But we laugh because we know your weapons are useless
You have, once again, underestimated us
We are not disgusting when we touch ourselves
And moan, and sigh, and find pleasure in exploring our bodies
In learning the secrets that lie within every inch and pound of flesh
We have learned to slide under the surface of censorship
And share our secrets in the dark
Yes, it's frightening when we embrace our bodies
Instead of hating them, fearing them
Nipping and tucking and altering and piling on
Layers and layers of chemicals so that we do not lose our youth
And become undesirable
But if we desire ourselves, purely and freely
We no longer need your validation
Our breasts, our voices, our muscles, our sexual organs, our independence
Are no longer yours for the taking
We have become the parasitic vines that creep on the walls of your
Ancient and weed-riddled castle
The water in your moat is churning
And we are thirsty for blood and vengeance
Be it real or metaphorical
The tables are turning and clocks are smashed
Mother Nature is screaming to reclaim what was stolen from her
So watch your backs and choose your words carefully
Fuel to the fire, that is all your words have become
And fire spreads
So very fast