Tue, 01/17/2017 - 20:31 -- aje1084

How come they don’t see it.

The way I do, not the legs walking moving,

The body slinking, shaking,

The lips red as wine, parting, moving in time to the words….


No one listens to. Caught up by the movement, the “O”s and the smile that crosses the teeth all too frequently.


How come they don’t hear it.

The word uttered with every giggle, every syllable, every look.

The push back speaking volumes louder than any word.

The shrug, the excuse….


Ignored like all the rest. Justified with drunkenness that calls the shots all too frequently.


How come they don’t see her.

The way I do, not the pussy up for grabs,

Or down for anything.

But the eyes that pool into the depths of forbidden seas

Lost to all.

Thinking, feeling, forced to take in the reality that is hers because she is a woman in a man’s world. Not able to speak….





UP where she CAN be heard, where her body is not the object of sin but a celebration of the lines and scars that have brought her here…where her work is not defined by the number of “egos” she has stroked but the aftermath of a hard fought war.


Where her figure, her body, her weight, her hair, her lips….no herSELF is seen for the beautiful soul she is.


How come they don’t see us.

For what we are.


Humans equal to anyone who walks down that yellow brick road

On their way to see the great and the powerful,

Only to find that they are the same as you...and me.


How come they don’t hear us.

The frustration in our lips that meet whatever you deem fit. The laws that prevent love from being love. Humans from being humans. People from being people.

The shouts we call so loudly trying, screaming, our throats picked raw by the echos of the loss of basic humanity. Pushed back by those who have always refused to hear the word…



No we do not want you to decide what is right for our bodies.

No we do not need you to tell us or show us that our value is wrapped up in how tightly the fabric hugs our Goddess given curves.

No we do not need you to tell us that We.



Because no matter if you see it or not. We know we are and we’ll never stop speaking.


This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world


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