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Women artists in patriarchy
that doesn’t exist, due to some “new information”; however patriarchy doesn’t require our belief…it is as close as your man “playfully”, painfully, pulling your hair while you are walking around Value Village on a Saturday afternoon
To make art is to be in the now
Of course that sounds Zen
It is
Like all ideas it belongs to no one
but when you know
name your sources, give credit
honour
the question for laypeople remains, who are they?
It only takes a second for everyone to be reminded
Oh You!, exclaimed with wide eyes
There is something wrong with that girl’s head
trauma
So in denial of their own
They fail to name it in others
Pretty but vacant
she quietly informed me
my mother used to say “I like my mind to be a complete blank”- M
the oldest most profound taboo
Insanity
Carte blanche is a dangerous thing
Remember they will brush your hair back with one hand
Stab you in the back with the other
Namaste she uses dismissively
An ironic weapon; eastern religion
Without the accompanying wisdom teachings
the Dharma
they remain awash, jelly fish in the tide
discernment necessary to use with the broken
crumpled by life in a vice
ready to boil over
blow a lid
a gasket
they are coritsol ready
The addict when we were growing up was
You don’t have to consider children or the insane
no sense in asking who they would have been if
the past
needs to rest in the past
left alone in the now
I call to you
Trouble , Rescue Me (Cat Stevens)
I’m channeling K’s story it is merging with mine
the pnes who rescue
don't stop themselves extracting a price
for their generous condescension
The beggar, orphan, thief
on the outskirts
fight dogs for the bones of their dead
gratitude, repayment
they know exhaustion
half starved, they need too need to feast
can’t even blame them
compassion has been activated
supine, eyes scream
I await you
hear footsteps coming to me
I call out to you
Trouble, oh Trouble Rescue Me –Cat Stevens
we’ve hit a rich vein here, not meaning to be insensitive
its flowing but it aint easy
we sacrifice for following our minds down these dark alleys, through back yards and along rivers, taunting ticks on feeble ankles over boulders boundaried by sea grass
They pok, prod
to get a rise out of you
maybe it helps
without primate need
we would die more often, early
in survival we remind one another of life
in a fever
We are gone for this world
Though you may very well be feeling to die
to tell a living loved one who is engaged with life
that you want to leave it
When you are vulnerable you kick your friends away
you send me photos of yourself in the mail
ask for one back
I could never do it, it seemed a vanity I could ill afford
there was no digital
your crimes depended upon the faulty
though all too clear
memories of others
flashes in the dark
too noisy
the room is spinning
I close my eyes to it
wake up disoriented
what happened?
Clowns, Losers and Wealthy Babies
like a tug-of-war
with you both at one and other end
tugging
being ripped apart
ancient torture
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