Publicly Primal

A bonfire of hatred emblazoned within.

I want to violate you by releasing my raw primal rage

A bonfire of hatred emblazoned in my silent chest awaiting birth

The “Flesh your heart” punishment of original sin, raped

The mundane act of typing the violation of my rights

as a human. as a woman. as FIFTY ONE PERCENT of totality

while you prognosticate fodder for the war machine

I defiantly consider all acts of subjugation as Slavery of Women

When I’m no longer terrified of how I will sound unrestrained,

You will no longer exist other than in history as bad apples

bitter seeds of spill on the dirt floors of the prisons you built

for me

but will not hold this.

Rose colored apples

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree

buds of generational history

blooms repeat to be the same

pink, red, rosy, given names

Rotten roots lay undetected

Bloody branches disrespected

Refused a haven in the storm

Beaten, battered, broken, torn

Bearing into the furious wind

Dropping seeds, again. Again.

The seeds removed found fertile lands

Grew tall and strong with loving hands

When they bloomed, with rooted shows

They bloomed into a fragrant rose.

The cycle once born is now rejected

crisis averted, genes defected.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree

But that does not apply to me.

Somehow there must be A same

But there is nothing in his name

The branches torn where childhood sits

are splintered, demolished. Daddy did it.

He hacked at the bushes with angry words

clashing, lashing, striking swords

No matter what gifts that rose bush gave

it was never enough, but it remained a slave

in hopes that someday, a small reward,

would champion out, three little words.