Let me set hatred by for this one day let each feast with family full of joys leave that empty, no anger or dismay and maybe keep that chamber empty save for toys Let there be no bombs down from the sky let no one fall to firing with a gun let no flogging make any children cry let no one need to cower or to run I don’t know what to call this day right now Guilt day or day we stole this gorgeous land? I give thanks for love and wonder how We can heal the past, what demands? Two friends will come to feast and sip eggnog My cats will be surprised: they bring their dog.
I think of how you treat me with low dudgeon. Rarely and when fatigued I think of you. You hide away, a hermit like curmudgeon pusillanimous liar, unfaithful and untrue. We share a childhood full of trauma I work hard to heal from all the strife but you choose to elevate the drama and excise protestations from your life. I ask Beloved what I am assigned to do. You don’t believe in angels nor in me. The mystery of angels leads me here to you; like a bear you hide up in the trees. I find the change the loved Beloved grants. You refusing change, I ban you from my pants.
We mature at a different rate
than you humans
I don’t really pass as human
but since I am 5’4″
no one guesses I’m an ogre
I have been an Ogre since
before birth
my mother ill
attacked by antibodies in the womb
luckily the illness does not cross
the barrier of the mixed mother daughter
the placenta
but the antibodies do cross
I am born with my immune system
red hot and ready to fight
my maternal grandmother is an Ogre too she cares for me while my mother heals you are right to refuse help she says you may feed yourself and she lets me I am four months
Two grrl cousins are also stressed from birth
one arrives early and survives
smallest child to live in that city
all they have for premies is a warm box
her parents are warned
she might be slow
the other is born in Bangladesh
mother very ill
mother damaged by illness
she survives too
three Ogres?
No
different mitochondria
from three different mothers
different immune systems
different parents
Ogre, dark angel, and martyr
And the others wonder why we fight
A woman says “I like you when you’re well.”
to me when I am sick
and my partner disappears
he says, “I can’t have a disabled partner.”
I snarl, “I am not disabled.
I am just on oxygen.”
But it is not true
I am disabled
And very annoyed
I avoid the woman for a year
and think about it
I am never “well”
if it’s an antibody disorder
and if I got it in the womb
what would I be like if I did not have it?
no one knows
and I don’t either
So I have done well
in the end
to survive a chronic illness since before birth
Ogres take longer to mature
but once we do
we are hell on wheels
And at last I accept it
I am happy being an Ogre
and I will be the best Ogre I can
For a long time I think I am a werewolf, but I am not controlled by the moon. But I can get angry. And then I remember this poem and think “Not a werewolf. An ogre.”
_______________________
Butterfly Girl Comes to Visit
She is so beautiful with her wings multicolored many splendored lights caught and multiplied as she flutters
I freeze I am an ogre Huge and clumsy I know from past past many times Not to touch you My rough fingers have brushed the tiny feathers from your wings You cry in pain and your flight becomes erratic My kiss is just as bad Rough lips If I move the wind of my passing blows you against a window You fall stunned
I hold and crush the box of feelings that can hurt you Sorrow, anger, fear, dismay Even fatigue turns my aura red And scorches your wings
I hate to cause you pain
Fly butterfly girl My baby needs me, my pager rings My ogre husband stirs The effort of holding still plain on his face I canβt hold still much longer
This is a compilation poem from more than one song and more than one person I’ve dated. A friend and I really dislike a song her husband sings that has the “I wish that you had told me” line. We make faces at each other and whisper, “We wish that you had listened.”
Sometimes I am treated as an admiring audience by a male. At least, that is the role he would like me to play. I get pretty bored pretty quickly. If he doesn’t give me reasonable floor time, if he doesn’t listen, well, goodbye. Find another female slave. One male tells me that my poetry doesn’t matter. I think, oh, I guess it doesn’t matter to YOU, but it certainly matters to ME. There is a certain wicked enjoyment in writing poetry that references his words, heh heh. Enjoy!
October 8, 2022
________________________
always on your mind
the songs you sing I was always on your mind you wish that I had told you
isn’t that a lie? you told me never to ask you to do anything. Ever.
what was always on your mind you told me many times you could read mine
what was always on your mind you said you could read mine I wish you had. Even once.
what was always on your mind
was your fantasy me
who obeyed your every wish
what was always on your mind was that I would wait at home available to listen or for sex
what was always on your mind
your terror of the ball and chain
that I’d entrap you into marriage
what was always on your mind
had nothing to do with me
I tried hard to tell you
what was always on your mind
had nothing to do with me
I tried hard to tell you
what was always on your mind
was a fantasy. Not me.
How can you be surprised I’m gone?
you wish that I had told you you say I was always on your mind I wish that you had listened even once
_______________________________
I took the photograph on Marrowstone Island a few days ago.
Discover and re-discover Mexicoβs cuisine, culture and history through the recipes, backyard stories and other interesting findings of an expatriate in Canada
Engaging in some lyrical athletics whilst painting pictures with words and pounding the pavement. I run; blog; write poetry; chase after my kids & drink coffee.
Refugees welcome - FlΓΌchtlinge willkommen I am teaching German to refugees. Ich unterrichte geflΓΌchtete Menschen in der deutschen Sprache. I am writing this blog in English and German because my friends speak English and German. Ich schreibe auf Deutsch und Englisch, weil meine Freunde Deutsch und Englisch sprechen.
KO Rural Mad As Hell Blog 
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