Rest in peace.
Past midnight when the sun is no where in sight
There lies the struggle to maintain the fight
Don’t give in don’t stop the try
Tears turn dry I can’t cry I won’t cry
Trying constantly to paint rainbows in the sky
Ghetto streets turn dry as blood spills in endless crime
I can try to paint the rainbows but the ghetto vibes will turn it dry & they will just cry
I’m mostly mad at love right now cause it hurt my friend. Love made my friend hurt my friend.
And it hurt me too, but that was a different story. Love hurt me for the best. Love made me choose. It made me choose between loving someone else and loving myself. I chose myself. I made the right choice. Thanks love.
So I guess love saved me. I guess I shouldn’t be so mad at love. I guess I should be thankful. I am grateful love, but I am not indebted to you. I don’t owe you. I don’t owe anyone for being nice or tender or loving toward me. I deserve it too. I deserve love.
We talk an awful lot about you love. You’re selfish. You’re a ham. Love, why don’t you step the fuck down for a moment. Back the fuck up!
I need a breather, I need a break. From you, for me.
You hurt my friend. I didn’t forget. That’s not okay. Love, you need to get your shit together. You can’t keep hurting me or the people I love.
Love, your reputation precedes you. You really aren’t as great as people say you are. Okay, you are great, but you’re really harsh and hurtful too. And you’re mean to nice people. You hurt people who don’t deserve it.
Love, I’m checking you. I will no longer stand by and witness you hurt me and the people I love. You need to shape up or ship out. There’s no more room here for your bullshit.
So start taking notes. I will be your example of how to treat me and the people I love. And if you can’t live up to these standards, you can get your things and leave. If you can’t live up to what love should look like, then love don’t live here anymore.
Incest, Rape, Violent gendering
No smoke inhaled soothes
to show they’re bigger
I’ll beat you to a pulp, little girl.
They use their loud voices
breath in your face and
I’ll show you who’s boss. Who da fuck you think you are, bitch?
worst thing you can call a man
“C’mon, ladies” — sneering football coach/drill sergeant — the biggest insult Men say threatening things on your blog
and send revolting pictures
of other women
beaten cut bloody headless bruised and battered
This could be you, watch out, stay in line
don’t speak your mind
challenging the WAY IT IS. yeah, yeah, I know women threaten people too
women hit each other, are cruel and sharp and fuck you up.
But but but
we all know the but
women-hating is what societies are built on
it pumps men up, makes them men
to put women in their place.
threaten us with extinction
Who the fuck do you think you are, bitch And yeah, yeah, I know it’s not all men,
there are good men. But if you are breathing on this planet
if you are hearing my enraged words
you know a man like this
he’s in your family (he’s in mine)
he’s at your work (he’s at mine)
he’s watching you across the library (he’s watching me)
he’s bullying you on Facebook (he’s bullying me) change it. stop accepting it
To the good men:
say no to woman-hating woman-silencing speech
no laughing at wife-beating jokes
“rapeable” is not a compliment
step in when other men act badly
stand next to us, the women
and say not in my name. men can change
But they sure do like to threaten us
‘I shouldn’t have to hide who I am.
This is my reality- this is my truth.
Just my presence alone brings with it the entire weight of the mistakes of the Movement and the reason why true liberation has not yet been achieved.
So my truth now becomes your truth.’ This tragedy alone has morphed me into a new being. Like the violent hacking of the wood, the splintering and breaking apart of its body- for all to watch in deep fascination-
when that metal blade slices into the once piece of forest.
Over and over again.
That piece of wood- birch wood- in its painful alteration from one being to another, thought the knife was deforming her as she’s cut, and cut, and cut. But when she opened her eyes after the agony was finally all over, she looked down upon herself and saw she was now a beautiful kachina doll.
A butterfly maiden.
And soon her Creator painted colors on her base; vibrant, deep and fluorescent.
She looked at the new world around her in amazement as she sat in the sun to let her colors dry.
Some of her hues were dark- to represent all the past pains done on her body that morphed her into this new figure.
And bright- to represent all the days in her future, for she has survived the hardship and is still here to see another sunrise.
After she dried the woodcarver breathed life into her.
And then she flew away.