Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

sleezeballs
pigs
cheapskates
users
soul less
guarded
fenced in hearts
boxed in
afraid to feel
smelly
hair on their balls, yet expect you to shave bare your beaver
fuck you, then don't offer lunch after

blaming you for their shit
wanting you to be a mommy
and when you be a mommy
they blame you for being a mommy
selfish, greedy, egotistical
self absorbant
i want this but you cant have this
or
you want too much i cannot give

when your heart is bleeding on your sleeve
and they are too blind to see
that they will never ever find a woman like you
and later realize oh shit
what have i done
and its too late
because now
you are so jaded and fucking guarded
that you cannot even emotionally give

Yes
that is what men do
want you to go down
for hours
suck their smelly spunk
on their hairy balls
then complain
when their own jaws hurt

may the good lord bless you and
keep you in his or her well-ordained
plain plane sent out from

where we all lie
with each other
not to each other
and all that rotted

wooden
you like to know

how he whoever he is
pretends once again
to be the ominous fence?

hence this verse.
what could be worse?

Interjecting my own word semen...
..... hey ...i shoulda putta raincoat on it, eh?


...


what men do is reprehensible.
what women do is no worse.

men versus women versus men
versus women cursed by the
fucking sex that perplexes the
idea, dear, the clear ideal, the
goddamn frickin such thing that
sucks when we try to relate!

i knew a man who i wanted to date.
i said, "let's date" and he said
"at our age you know what that means,
right?"

and i said sure and said goodnight
and we lied with and to each other
for a fucked up day, the way his eyes
said play with me, the way his determination
changed the moment of creation of a veritable
dance, the way the chance came in like throwing
craps, every seven, every eleven, every side
of a 6-sided 3-dimensional cube lewd and
lascivious, ridiculous the varieties, the perplexities,
the simulations, the dogmas...

ahh what each sex does to the next sex is
a hex that perplexes and though i've lost my mantra
within the last moments of a harmony take,
i awaken to find my reason to dine on
the seconds between courses
worthwhile.

let us pray.

lord gimme something as good to eat as you
and i will swallow the moment whole.

ahhhhhhh....men.

susan marie and inked goddess,
what men are these?
not mine.
not my father,
my brothers,
my friends,
or my lover.
not my nephews
or
my angelic sons.
what men are these?
look into the eyes
of the men
i know,
of the men i love
and you see love shining back.
these men honour
and cherish us,
touch us gently
with hands and mouths.

what men are these?
men who hurt women.
not my men,
not deserving of you either.
as d says, there are those of us
of both persuasion,
men and women alike
who do not recognize
when the other bleeds,
who make the cuts,
who cause the pain.
let them go.
we'll dwell in our village
and they can dwell in theirs.
and if they come,
we circle
and
we're safe.

we don't hurt the other,
words like "menocide"
sicken me,
they will blacken our hearts
if we embrace them in any way.

angry at me?
consider me naive?
then you don't me.
i am woman,
and so i know
the potential,
i know what exists
in some places
outside of us.
i have laid in blood,
my own and others.
i have received calls
in the middle of the night
telling me of the death
of someone i tried to save
but couldn't.
i've seen.
i've touched.
i've smelled.
i've tasted.
i know.

i know that the men i love
need to be held as much
and as often as i do.
and i do.

i know that i hold them
and they hold me...
i know that that is the world
i have consciously created,
and continue to work at creating.
and i know
that if the others
come to our village,
we circle
and
we're safe.

we'll dwell in our village
and they can dwell in theirs.
and if they come,
we circle
and
we're safe.

harmony.

so it is.

cheat on you
whore around on you
but act like you fucked them
up the ass
when you do it back

be a good girl
courtsie
give birth
but dont scream
take a needle
in your spine instead
so you dont make noise

stay in a box
neutured
castrated

fuck but dont feel

nice poem little girl
and they pat you on the head

dont show emotion
or youre a psycho bitch

this is not a smiley face poem

this is not a feel good poem

this is bleeding on a page
instead of road rage

today im trashing
next week
i may spread my legs instead

just a rant
just a vent

poetry of the moment

better on this page
then road rage

whitebird
this is a

rant

i have a lovely son
was married
been with beautiful people
and this word
play
is just that

words

rants
silent screams

not attacks
you see

this board i thought
was for venting and putting down your

heart

as you have
but man you gotta understand

that sometimes a woman

or a
man

gets tired and needs to scream

through fingers
which bleed

whitebird
what you say

is love

which we have all known
cherished
lived
want
need
have

and what we write
is what you speak of

what we do not deserve

and that

my shining bird

is the difference

and when they complain how bad they feel
inside
you are fucking hurting
emotionally sexually, mentally, physically
yet say nothing
because this is the spirit of a woman
to just go and do
no matter what
and men whine like babies
about incessant fucking bullshit
when inside your heart is fucking bleeding
and you might feel like jumping off a roof
but do you?

of course not

instead you save the fool ass man FROM jumping from the roof

and then make love to him like a Goddess
and then they complain
about the fucking food you just slaved over making for them

even if you never came
but they did
or you came
but it sucked
or they came in your mouth
and you hated it
but pretended you loved it
and really wanted to spit it right back in their face
and say LOOK fucker
thats what this shit tastes like
unlike pussy
which is sweet and smells lovely
and not of sweat and man and stink
but of purity and love and woman

and yet they turn
and still ask if its ok to come on your back
your hair
your face
and when you say NO
they look at you as if you are insane

one day I will spit cum in a mans face
so he can taste his own shit
and see how he likes it.

poetry of the moment

better on this page
then road rage

by the time I post this one it will probably not be juxtoposed next to yours.



I don't have much faith in Freud's The Problem of Female Masochism anymore.
They used to tell me that only women bleed,
but I know better now.

It is better to rage against men, then to rage against the self.

I wish I had some music
maybe some deep pms blues

The They used to tell me that only women bleed,
but I know better now.

I got no time for flesh and blood women any more, I much

prefer paper dolls so I dated the
spirit of sylvia plath for thirty years
she learned me a lot about women
and it pains me to think that her death
may have been a result of a hellish bout of pms
they say she had it bad

rage against us anytime sister
better me than you.

just passing through
cause fools rush in
bye

still trucking
along the path

man i know
we all bleed

we would be

soul
less

if we did not

and this is a rage
off the road

i love everyone
in many ways

i do not possess
hatred or hide
who i am
or what i feel
this is my way
of releasing
the grating flight spin
rattle of brain
bone
crushing weight

of life
and am glad you see

that we

are just venting

~~~

(please continue everyone, this is good psychotherapy and its free!)

susan marie and inked goddess,

i understand rants.
i understand that some cleanse
and some do further damage --
both to the ranters and the rantees.

i don't see healing in yours
no matter how you try
to spin it.

i have held and rocked a mommy
after her baby boy was burned to death by his daddy,
i have held a mother
after her daughter was hacked to death with an axe
by the man who said he loved her,
want more?
i have more.

i have my own.
i recognize you do too.

i know pain,
we know pain.

i also know that rants of hatred
in the guise of a poem
do nothing
to help anyone.

this not a helping rant.
this is not a healing rant.
this is rant of hatred.
salt on wounds.

your poem generalizes to all men,
mine distinguishes.

as women,
and as men
we've got to learn the difference.
we've got to acknowledge the difference.

and finally i say,
this response of mine
is not meant to be patronizing...
it comes from a deep place
of wanting to stop
the bleeding...
the burning,
the cutting --
whatever the tool.

sticks and stones hurt...
words can be worse --
we know that as women.

so it is.

Sharks swarm on what they see as weeker fish: feeding frenzy.

The They used to tell me that only women bleed,
but I know better now.

Sharks move perpetually for a myth that to stop, reflect, feel, is to drown.

boxed in
afraid to feel
smelly
hair on their balls, yet expect you to shave bare your beaver
fuck you, then don't offer lunch after

Sharks eat each other when what they think is weaker is missing.

lord gimme something as good to eat as you
and i will swallow the moment whole.

Sharks consider the whole water home.

Men are men to each other
and when we are benignly destructive, the dominant cultural voices say:
Boys will be boys.
And we're let off the hook for taking responsibility for being destructive
and worse:
we believe with the dominant culture
that destructive is ontologically what is male
and so we cheat on women
and so we beat on women
and canibalize each other
and eat rare meat
and waste the earth
and pat ourselves on the backs:
victors.

I don't know how Male Men screw women.
I do know how we screw each other
and I am glad when we're held accountable
and voices say:
This is not acceptable human behavior.

menocide
motorbike ride

grab me by the hair
yes, you know i love it rough
you know so you don't ask
you leatherhearted fifties film

force me off the road
make me come down on you
you know i love it
you know so you don't ask
you stainless steel porcupine

toss me on the gravel
feel guilt, so grab me by the wrist
you know i want it
you know so you don't ask
you goliath green giant

i love it i loved it
i want it some more
you know i do
so you don't ask
you don't ask
you know, so you don't ask