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The Old Adage

Part 1:

There it is

One more step in my emancipation

In this country you’re either the carrion or the vulture,

Or you get a set of wheels to run over birds with.

So I pat it proudly,

Assuming all the stereotypical qualities of gendered masculine identity:

Rolled up sleeves, angled chin, parted legs and a general corporeality that evokes confidence, precision, and pure balls.

So I stall a few times,

So what.

I’m driving at my own speed, and there’s little anyone’s shiny bumper can do about it.

In this country, my brief history here at least has shown,

That there is no room for hesitation.

Go big, or emigrate.

That’s how we roll here.

We take out knives so we can have bread to cut

We take out insurance so we can have axes to grind

We put up mirrors, look in, and get lost trying to decipher who “we” are.

That’s why I bought the car.

Because I refuse to be a victim any longer.

Because if I have lost the freedom to walk the streets – and it is evident that I have, it is evident in all the bleeding, tearing, festering vaginas, broken wrists, muted children, slashed pockets and gushing wounds of this country-

At least I still have the freedom to find other means, to find an escape route.

That is more than I can say for many other women here, in this country.

Too many women pouring their paychecks into their brothers’ bottles

Too many women feeding their sloth-husbands with money that could have sent a child to school

Too many daughters serving and slaving for a leech-father who will give them nothing but a price tag on their wedding day.

(I’m not quite sure how Part 1 ties to Part 2. Errm.
Some parts are even contradictory. Postmodern non-linearity wins again?)

Part 2:

And up it comes again

The old adage

Stemming from –

Not an ancient Greek

But a white American rapper

The words shoot like lightning bolts into my ears at the age of twelve

(skinny, short, anaemic and suicidal,

twitching in a bed alone

with an expiry date looming above me)

And forever after

((Thud)) into my cortex

Pulsating out from the white vest and silver dog tags

Shaping tattooed arms and throbbing throat veins:

You can do anything you set your mind to, man.

(the spacing really didn’t come out the way I wanted it to 😦 I can’t get this html stuff right!!)


Comments on: "The Old Adage" (2)

  1. An Imperfect Servant said:

    Both awesome pieces. I like your style. You have your own flow and structure and it works well. Very vivid and rich.

    • Thanks so much man 🙂 I really appreciate your support! If you do have any crits for any of the poems I really welcome it, so let me know 🙂

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