Healing Pt. 1 (edited)
I just finished a spoken word piece.
Part I is writing it, part II is performing it.
Here it goes,
I want to call it "writer's block"
But deep down, I know it's me who's scarred
Another nightmare last night
Another bitter reminder of why my soul is stuck
Stuck in painful memories of inebriation
torn crinoline and the violation
of my cuntsacred temple.
Here I am, laboring away at the reconstruction
and reclamation
of my soul-body-and-mind
As I witness jokes and general lightheartedness
toward the abuse, rape, assault,
and violence
we have endured as womyn.
As I realize that our grandmothers
their mothers
our mothers
sisters
daughters
friends
aunts
and lovers
have experienced this abuse
as if it were some inevitable rite of passage
I want to lay down my fist
THUMP!
YA BASTA!
But my soul remains stuck
and I live in fear, anger, scenarios of "what if?"
Infuriated, yet afraid and bruised.
Backed into a corner
I put my head on my knees
shut my eyes
in hope that when I open them
it will all go away.
I hope to awake to a world where womyn aren't abused, exploited or raped
Little girls and little boys aren't afraid
to be themselves
Men don't abuse, exploit or rape
They aren't afraid to cry
or admit their mistakes.
A place where we make room to heal, inspire and love
Where I don't have to live in fear and in my people trust.
I open my eyes and see women fighting each other for the attention of some scum
Shit talking instead of backing each other up
Little girls being robbed of their childhood and innocence
as they get airbrushed for some sick pageant
Only to grow up to be parading pieces of meat
For the gazes of salivating patriarchal male judges
Another 3-page glossy magazine spread
Another joke about rape
Another little boy being taught
that womyn's bodies are worthless
Another stupid article on "gray rape"
Another self-defense class to make us more afraid
Another fucking judge who blames a survivor
for the choice her abuser made.
I rise up that fist!
ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT!
I burn that fucking torn dress
His pictures with it!
I take his guitar mid-serenade
smash it above his head!
I gather up my sisters, we hold hands
We've assembled our army we shout
"NEVER AGAIN!"
We march into pageants
stomp the old dogs!
Reunite girls with their childhood
We graffiti billboards, ads, displays
burn every cunthatin' magazine
Purge the world of misogyny
Slap silly boys when joking about rape
We teach our sons to love and respect all womyn.
We write op-eds
We are feared by judges, politicians, public servers
We concoct our guerrilla through loving poetic antics
we demand justice!
We bang pots, pans, drums, tambourines
If you've raped someone you'll hear it day and night
it'll get louder when you try to sleep.
You hear that?
We're coming back
This time we won't be afraid, vulnerable, or naive
We're conscious, PISSED OFF, merciless.
My body
my dreams
my soul
my safety
my heart
righteously belong
to me!
Part I is writing it, part II is performing it.
Here it goes,
I want to call it "writer's block"
But deep down, I know it's me who's scarred
Another nightmare last night
Another bitter reminder of why my soul is stuck
Stuck in painful memories of inebriation
torn crinoline and the violation
of my cuntsacred temple.
Here I am, laboring away at the reconstruction
and reclamation
of my soul-body-and-mind
As I witness jokes and general lightheartedness
toward the abuse, rape, assault,
and violence
we have endured as womyn.
As I realize that our grandmothers
their mothers
our mothers
sisters
daughters
friends
aunts
and lovers
have experienced this abuse
as if it were some inevitable rite of passage
I want to lay down my fist
THUMP!
YA BASTA!
But my soul remains stuck
and I live in fear, anger, scenarios of "what if?"
Infuriated, yet afraid and bruised.
Backed into a corner
I put my head on my knees
shut my eyes
in hope that when I open them
it will all go away.
I hope to awake to a world where womyn aren't abused, exploited or raped
Little girls and little boys aren't afraid
to be themselves
Men don't abuse, exploit or rape
They aren't afraid to cry
or admit their mistakes.
A place where we make room to heal, inspire and love
Where I don't have to live in fear and in my people trust.
I open my eyes and see women fighting each other for the attention of some scum
Shit talking instead of backing each other up
Little girls being robbed of their childhood and innocence
as they get airbrushed for some sick pageant
Only to grow up to be parading pieces of meat
For the gazes of salivating patriarchal male judges
Another 3-page glossy magazine spread
Another joke about rape
Another little boy being taught
that womyn's bodies are worthless
Another stupid article on "gray rape"
Another self-defense class to make us more afraid
Another fucking judge who blames a survivor
for the choice her abuser made.
I rise up that fist!
ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT!
I burn that fucking torn dress
His pictures with it!
I take his guitar mid-serenade
smash it above his head!
I gather up my sisters, we hold hands
We've assembled our army we shout
"NEVER AGAIN!"
We march into pageants
stomp the old dogs!
Reunite girls with their childhood
We graffiti billboards, ads, displays
burn every cunthatin' magazine
Purge the world of misogyny
Slap silly boys when joking about rape
We teach our sons to love and respect all womyn.
We write op-eds
We are feared by judges, politicians, public servers
We concoct our guerrilla through loving poetic antics
we demand justice!
We bang pots, pans, drums, tambourines
If you've raped someone you'll hear it day and night
it'll get louder when you try to sleep.
You hear that?
We're coming back
This time we won't be afraid, vulnerable, or naive
We're conscious, PISSED OFF, merciless.
My body
my dreams
my soul
my safety
my heart
righteously belong
to me!