Wednesday, 17 August 2016

You Are A Woman, How Dare You?





You are a girl so
you must sit with your legs closed.
We do not want little boys to
go peering down your skirt
You are a girl so come inside
the house and watch your mother cook.
Watch how she scrubs off the
regrets off her gas stove.
Watch her morning and night,
how she washes off the
lies and secrets from her hair.
Watch how she carefully
fold her palms, day and night,
praying against the ghosts of everyone else’s past.

You are a woman so you must sit
but not for too long.
Your man will get hungry if you do.
He will need to be fed 3 times a day;
your body, your food and your soul.
You may talk but never about
being tired, being used or being free.
Don’t you know?
You were created only to be used
and discarded by men.

You are a woman so you should
Always make sure the man feels loved.
Feed him your life until you stop breathing.
Always praise his successes and never yours.
Gently stroke his ego until he forgets his failures.
Wrap yours up and hold them till your hands tremble.

Don’t you know you are a woman?
How dare you dream beyond men and babies?
How dare you dream of exploring?
Of endless possibilities and alternate universes?
How dare you breathe too loudly?
How dare you walk for too long?
How dare you work for too long?
How dare you put yourself before others?
Don’t you know you came to serve?
Just like your mother and her ancestors.

How dare you come back home liberated?
Have you forgotten the way to the kitchen?
Where are the keys we gave to you?
How dare you use them to unlock other doors?
Doors bigger than the ones we showed you.
How dare you?








Tuesday, 2 August 2016

Trash, waste, dirt and bin.

The first time I took out the bin 
I let out a soothing sigh.
It was like thousands of poking needles 
were pulled out of my flesh all at once.
I tried to cry but bled then I healed.

The first time I took out the trash 

I realised that saying his name would change.
I never really could trust something about him -
it was the way he walked.
The way he puffed out his chest,
Like a peacock with his eyes 
searching for approval. 
The way his laugh echoed in a crowded room.
The way he constantly needed to be fed.
Attention, food, and my body.

The first time I took out the trash, 

I could lick the floor I walked on.
I took every step with uncertainty.
I did not know where I was going 
but I knew where I wanted to be.

I knew what I wanted.

I knew how I should be treated.
I retreated from every empty promises.
I walked away from conversations that failed to nourish my soul.

The first time I took out the waste I felt free.

I climbed to the top of the landfill and looked around me.
I saw parts of me that I had discarded
While scrounging for some soul.



Monday, 1 August 2016

An Unnamed Poem


Our love is like a ripe tide 
-a result of two currents 
meeting at the surface,
trying to find a balance.

It knows no pretence, hence 

In the midst of aversion it 
rocks the bottoms of boats 
With doubts Unknown.

Our love is not like roses.

It oozes of warm bodies 
in rooms with no windows.
Of sweaty palms and 
packed theatre halls.

Our love is like an anxious baby 

learning to walk.
It is also like an old couple
dancing by the seaside
Struggling to remember 
their first dance. 

Our love does not escape 

in times of misery.
It lurks in the corner of our lips, 
Quivering then biting away our fears.

Our love is not candle light dinners

Or two lovers holding hands in the sunset.
It is two children standing in a sandstorm,
With their eyes closed 
wrapping themselves into each other.

Our love is like old paintings 

Hanged in a hallway no one 
dares to walk through.