The Menstruating Times

At times I am menstruating

My uterine muscles

Pumping at my dry bloody walls


My Wounded Vaginal Walls Rupturing out of gory fright.

My ribcage cracks and wails

Leaving a disdainful cry


I am bleeding heavily

The flow is like a river’s tail

My mood might go up or down

Or simply lay still as a black ocean


At times I get chills and other ills to be

My stubby knees shivering here to thee

My cramps suffer a hardship much more without


The wind that bubbles within

My pelvis, such as those before

Every month there’s a new one


Wretched and sore

Sometimes there are two or more

Two or three days on October


But never more than three

Here and now

In this teeny cubby hole


I lay head swollen and without

A blanket or a sheet

To keep me covered and warm


Deprived of makeup or other stuff for me to become adorned

November is a bit pretentious you see,

Now I have two opposing P’s


Beginning and closing my monthly woes

Just to repeat the final month in alternative way

When I hover down to pee


On my panties a gift lay for me

A golden, blacken heart shape surprise!

It’s darken blood, still and old


Covered in mucus and tissue

Oh, what a glorious sight has I!

Now a curse Eve my Mother B


Yes, that one that came before me

Her lies a deceitful point

One to be given to me for all eternity


I bite my lips in willful ignorance

Wanting to defeat the internal battle wailing inside of me

One that I am having with nature


One that I will never win

Until I am dead and buried

And never seen again


Why can’t I be the one to instruct this period when to come?

I could be like a composer directing a ballot of a wonderful composition

Or an Artiste drawing a story of my life


I swallow my pride

In the face of nature's watchful eye

Like a breeded spy


I say I’m perfectly fine

Until it’s time for me to dine

But hunger no longer besets me


Even this too shall pass

Until the next month when I am harass

Up till I’m ancient and dusty



This poem is about: 
My country


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