Whatever is essential to Female Poets


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Yes, in this youngest world
Maybe women can be writers
And achieve fame and livelihood

Without barren men to falter their craft
Maybe ten thousand martyrs are enough?
For women poets to be read and loved

To flourish from the pen of their wombs
And not find society admitting incapability
We who live in an increasing illiterate world

Must fight the language of our times
For all those who would profit, must
In a way, abandon their love of art

Technology being mobile, is a visual parade
Where books, and sages of wordsmiths must
Write alone, or else post on very tame blogs
Imagine private authors doing social media?

And become published in niche magazines
Yes, in this youngest world
Maybe writing in elegance has been lost?
We who ornament our lives with so much skill,

The ethereal spark of creators a transient tenement
Sex is not sex, when gender is so fluid
Are we satisfied with being intelligently ignored

By a world so satiated with mass media
That we do not respect creativity in its earth
Or share a sense of reverence for the philosophical
The poetic, the artistic that requires some thought.

And, if poetry is surely dead, then become novelists
Industrial poets, digital marketers, online journalists
Geniuses of new media, invigorated by the liberty
Of online avenues, content writers on applications

Be the interface with the poetry of the past
Reincarnate your gifts for a new world’s mediums
That publick faith that women best express
In allowing the world its distinguished femininity.

Question & Answer


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Question & Answer

We are the not famous poets
We celebrate the common person

Black, Hispanic, Chinese, gay, Trans, Disabled
Senior, teenager, semi-homeless, poor, impoverished
Please excuse this poem

A poem has no right to make a dollar today
Only to celebrate the breathless holiday
Of art, the tragedies of living

The news doesn’t talk about
The violence in impoverished lands
Where billions have no enforcement of law
They talk about the privileged

It’s a state of affairs run by the entitled
Were you born in an entitled nation?
Where you have the luxury of

Talking about God or the state or art
There are human beings out there
Who if they wrote a poem it would be

About survival, about how not to be
Drowned by immigrant traffickers
Off the coast of Italy, or how

To move to a county with some semblance
Of prosperity, those would be words
Worth hearing, but how many have no voice.

Psalm 10 – Politics


I will praise thee, O Lord
Not for the fair world
Thou hast created, making
Man rule over women

Making one kind of a man
Richer than another, not for
How docile your creation is to
One species, which plunders

For the cheap profit of a few
Decades, what nature took
Millions of years to create –
I will observe how change will fix

This Era of its doom, its politics
Of heathens, mine enemies have
Wallets, they have bought power
They possess superiority

I will sing praise to thy name, Selah.
Even in the darkness, I will find
A way to feel the light
Not because this world is fair

Or that there are many Good men left?
For all creations come to an end
And some cities in peace, still perish
In the game beneath the stars

But the Lord shall endure forever
Like nature, like love, and some remember him
Who may or not be our descendants
It does not matter to me, history

Will always be determined by
The new masters, and masters
Rarely have an objectivity of truth
That might reveal their former wickedness.

Sexism


80

No woman can compass despair
As one without a child, husband, family
For we as Travelers proceed

Not in a man’s world, but our own
Unconscious of the Width of Time
Unaware of evolution’s secrets hid in us

To pilot necessity without loving arms…
It is a Crucifixion to be a modern woman
With unequal pay, and duties more –

Breadwinners this time, history affirms
The feminine strength, endurance, beauty more
Than lazy men, so ignorant, so inhuman

Perhaps world, you should be ashamed
To shut out women from management
The true stewards of the Earth, those who care

No woman can compass despair
As pioneers who must strive as would men
In the bodies of women, to suffer more!

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Vector-Woman-411922911

Patriarchy in Exile


107

It is not doom we fear, nor extinction
We live for the brilliant present day –
Erected as if for the first time, we
Are built to survive, endure, come home to find

How our colossal steps keep us dreaming
There is no permanent haunt, we know
How to move on, forwards, afterwards
Adapt, before we fall, as we reclaim

The living bronze of another golden day
Even from futility, we have resilience
In the form of youth, and immortality –
All we find are changing altars

Alternate futures scrawled in time-machines
There is only the riddle of collective ignorance
The bribery of the profit motive of the illegitimate
That strive for supremacy, not love

It is not testosterone that makes us strong
Selfishness and vanity move us only so far.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/CUBOZOA-III-393220443