Shot in the street, his brother is dead.
He is injured, but not in the head.
No, he remains, controlling my friend,
Who keeps hoping she can contend,
With his chaos and gangs, raising their baby.
I know she will stay, but i wish she would leave.
"Take Back the Night", when inside I grieve.
Cuz our homes are not safe, I worry for them.
I didn't leave, I waited for him
He had to leave before I spoke,
To show all the bruises, and the rib that he broke.
How can I hope that she'll be unique,
When I held on long, when I was too weak?
She says she'll be strong,
But it's been that way too long.
I blame myself for the danger she's in,
I feel defeated, that she will not win.
When women fight wars,
We lose even more,
Guns are for men, we have more in our seed.
When women have power, their softness will lead.
So this war she is fighting, I can't hope she will win,
He must leave first, or die like his kin.
One day she might rule, but she'll never win.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
black and white
If you were to inform me that you have taken up some one-train way of thinking, i'd be disappointed. To say that you are human, that you are experiencing things (sexually, alien or otherwise) only heightens my appreciation for you, to give me insight into how you teach others. Those who break things into parts and enjoy a simple black and white view of the world
(can I blame those who see in black and white?
Laying on my side, in half light,
i saw through the black and blue of bruises,
And at once the world was so scary in colour.
My eyes, now open, to the dark shades of my life.
So I too created a cut,
Killed off colour and made a map
Guiding me over the wretched questions i had
Easier this way, easier to heal,
my head laying softly once more in his guilty lap.)
might be highly adverse to knowing a person is 3-d. To me it is like "ahh, yes, he is also a man, he is also creative, he is also a woman and a explorer" means you are normal.
(can I blame those who see in black and white?
Laying on my side, in half light,
i saw through the black and blue of bruises,
And at once the world was so scary in colour.
My eyes, now open, to the dark shades of my life.
So I too created a cut,
Killed off colour and made a map
Guiding me over the wretched questions i had
Easier this way, easier to heal,
my head laying softly once more in his guilty lap.)
might be highly adverse to knowing a person is 3-d. To me it is like "ahh, yes, he is also a man, he is also creative, he is also a woman and a explorer" means you are normal.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
My fiance
"I'm becoming depressed" she says, again, once more.
And I say again "what do you mean?" not knowing, not caring.
"I dunno" then the sounds of her snores.
I roll over, turn my back on the peaceful exit into dreamland.
What about me? Am I depressed? Was I ever?
"I hate my job" I tell her at coffee.
"Me too" she says.
I pay for her latte. I get a coffee. It's slightly unequal.
"You make more" She had said. With logic, and firmness. Always making sense.
"You argue better than me" I tell her at times, times when she's in my face, pointing and accusing.
"I know" she says, but nothing changes.
I send her emails all day, she replies. We hate our jobs, we go for jogs at lunch, coffees in the morning. Then we ride our bikes home together. I feed the cat and she stretches on our rug, doing some form of yoga that she has largely made up, suited it to herself. She says it is supposed to 'balance' her. She can accuse me of something while doing the yoga. I worry what the unbalanced her would be like.
"I love when you sleep without your shirt on" I tell her.
In a minute, she takes her shirt off.
"yesss" I hiss, moving over to wrap around her.
"mmm..." and then snores.
I lay awake again. Something is unequal here.
And I say again "what do you mean?" not knowing, not caring.
"I dunno" then the sounds of her snores.
I roll over, turn my back on the peaceful exit into dreamland.
What about me? Am I depressed? Was I ever?
"I hate my job" I tell her at coffee.
"Me too" she says.
I pay for her latte. I get a coffee. It's slightly unequal.
"You make more" She had said. With logic, and firmness. Always making sense.
"You argue better than me" I tell her at times, times when she's in my face, pointing and accusing.
"I know" she says, but nothing changes.
I send her emails all day, she replies. We hate our jobs, we go for jogs at lunch, coffees in the morning. Then we ride our bikes home together. I feed the cat and she stretches on our rug, doing some form of yoga that she has largely made up, suited it to herself. She says it is supposed to 'balance' her. She can accuse me of something while doing the yoga. I worry what the unbalanced her would be like.
"I love when you sleep without your shirt on" I tell her.
In a minute, she takes her shirt off.
"yesss" I hiss, moving over to wrap around her.
"mmm..." and then snores.
I lay awake again. Something is unequal here.
Stuck in the middle
After extensive reading on the subject, I've deemed having a baby to be ridiculous for people like me. if you are someone who enjoys the type of work involved with having a baby/infant, like repetitive, hands-on work, I think having a baby would satisfy the urge to procreate but also the feeling of doing some meaningful work. I don't mean to look down on those who like this type of work, for the other work, the abstract, ever-changing type of work that others prefer is no better in that it can be just as mundane, just as meaningless in the grand scheme of life.
For me, I can't handle the daily chores of cleaning, tying shoes, doing dishes and preparing food. I enjoy each of these things in moderation, but I feel bored and worthless doing too much of any of these tasks. Of course, we should consider the fact that this work is helping to raise another human, but that argument doesn't fly with me, as little as it does when you tell an employee that they are doing this or that to help the world function. It is the work itself, the physical work, of raising a baby that I am not sure I can handle.
So that brings me to the current occupation, and I am deeply unsatisfied here in this occupation. The only upside is the paycheck is brings, but I feel alone, purposeless and completely uninspired. I think the problem is that i love motherhood. I love taking on a project from the start, raising it, nurturing it, stressing over it, as much as a mother would fuss over her newborn. I am a natural mother in this way, but i am not so convinced that this mother would do well with a baby. Teenagers I'm excited about, but babies, not so much....
The reading I did on this said that mothers become virtual slaves to the child, and the rich, at every opportunity, get hired help to make up for the enormity of work a mother to a baby must do. So I have recently convinced myself that until I have the cash for a full time nanny (let's say 4 years to assume I would be better at the stuff once they've hit school), I'm convinced I can't have a baby.
the other problem is that, as a burgeoning mother, I want to be pregnant. I want not only the respect it brings, that wisdom assumed to a woman with belly, but I want to actually experience large breasts, freedom in an enlargening belly, and I want 10 months with an excuse to do little exercise. I am glamourizing the experience, but at least I am not glamorizing what follows the pregnancy, the exhausting work of a mom.
So I feel stuck in existential angst, that feeling of knowing too much about the decisions available, and not knowing which way to turn. i also realize that too much angst means I will delay a decision, perhaps until it is too late, though realistically I can't forsee myself waiting 12 year until trying.
Doing a lookover on this post makes me see how many times I used "I" in this post. I feel guilty using it, from some ridiculous talk we had at yoga training on avoiding it, and some book based on this. I (hehe) am not convinced "I" is a bad thing, but the perspective that I'm completely wrapped up in my own life is interesting. With perhaps only this one life to live, that shouldn't be a bad thing, but the religious among me are good at getting me to feel that guilt!
For me, I can't handle the daily chores of cleaning, tying shoes, doing dishes and preparing food. I enjoy each of these things in moderation, but I feel bored and worthless doing too much of any of these tasks. Of course, we should consider the fact that this work is helping to raise another human, but that argument doesn't fly with me, as little as it does when you tell an employee that they are doing this or that to help the world function. It is the work itself, the physical work, of raising a baby that I am not sure I can handle.
So that brings me to the current occupation, and I am deeply unsatisfied here in this occupation. The only upside is the paycheck is brings, but I feel alone, purposeless and completely uninspired. I think the problem is that i love motherhood. I love taking on a project from the start, raising it, nurturing it, stressing over it, as much as a mother would fuss over her newborn. I am a natural mother in this way, but i am not so convinced that this mother would do well with a baby. Teenagers I'm excited about, but babies, not so much....
The reading I did on this said that mothers become virtual slaves to the child, and the rich, at every opportunity, get hired help to make up for the enormity of work a mother to a baby must do. So I have recently convinced myself that until I have the cash for a full time nanny (let's say 4 years to assume I would be better at the stuff once they've hit school), I'm convinced I can't have a baby.
the other problem is that, as a burgeoning mother, I want to be pregnant. I want not only the respect it brings, that wisdom assumed to a woman with belly, but I want to actually experience large breasts, freedom in an enlargening belly, and I want 10 months with an excuse to do little exercise. I am glamourizing the experience, but at least I am not glamorizing what follows the pregnancy, the exhausting work of a mom.
So I feel stuck in existential angst, that feeling of knowing too much about the decisions available, and not knowing which way to turn. i also realize that too much angst means I will delay a decision, perhaps until it is too late, though realistically I can't forsee myself waiting 12 year until trying.
Doing a lookover on this post makes me see how many times I used "I" in this post. I feel guilty using it, from some ridiculous talk we had at yoga training on avoiding it, and some book based on this. I (hehe) am not convinced "I" is a bad thing, but the perspective that I'm completely wrapped up in my own life is interesting. With perhaps only this one life to live, that shouldn't be a bad thing, but the religious among me are good at getting me to feel that guilt!
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