Tired – am eye?

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I’m tired
I’m tired of being tired
Tired to the bone
Tired, hung, drawn and quartered
Quartered by the skin of my teeth
Quartered, keeping my chin up
Up, warts and all
Up, turning a blind eye
All fingers and bones – I
All flesh and blood – I
I keep my hands clean
I keep my nose clean
Clean, by the skin of my teeth
Clean, knuckling down
Teeth, foam at the mouth
Teeth, skin and blister
Mouth, hand over fist
Mouth, stiff upper lip
Fist in your face
Face the thorn in your flesh
Face the wool over your eyes
Flesh wins hands down
Flesh, the beast with two backs
Down, your upper hand
Down, take the bit between your teeth
Hand – pull your finger out
Hand – put up your dukes
Out, keep your nose clean!
Out, keep your pecker up!
Clean -putting my best foot forward
Clean- keeping my nose to the grindstone
Forward, turning a blind eye
Forwards, setting my teeth on edge
Eye – no sight for sore eyes
Eye- no blood out of my stone
Eyes – Off with your head!
Eyes – You nosy parker!
Head first, bum second
Head over heels, guts for garters
Second skeleton in the closet
Second head buried in the sand
Closet – my heart’s content
Closet – the cat has my tongue
Content with my blind eye
Content there’s no heart upon my sleeve
Eye – am feeling finger lickin’good
Eye – am keeping body and soul together
Keeping together
That’s good

A once and unruly mind is the prompt today. Which perfectly matches one of the form prompts I hadn’t tried this year – the blitz. I’m not sure how I feel about blitzes – or maybe I should say about my blitzes. I’ve tried some before. But I know when I read them back later I find them interesting, even when I’m doubt their quality. Maybe in my head rambling and quality just don’t go together, whereas at the same time I love fast association.A blitz is not supposed to have interpunction – but that’s what poetic licence is for 😉

The poem consists of phrases used in a different way. If you don’t know all of them (like me) you can look them up here.

Comic books used to be better

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An underground pit of hungry crocodiles
becomes aware of Gotham city’s radium supply
and plan to steel the precious metal

Bruce’s girl friend Linda Page
thwarts America’s Victory Plans
via an electronic brain implant

Batman sends his American henchmen
along with a zombie (gagged, and unconscious)

With breath-taking rapidity
the hungry crocodiles prevail
– after a terrific battle

Once upon a time there was a prompt about a story telling poem. I didn’t use it. Then along came a prompt that suggested to write about the taste of satisfaction. I didn’t use it. But when a fairy godmother told me to paint, I did. And then seven little dwarfs suggested I could use wikipedia to write an accompanying poem. I did. You will live happily ever after.

He likes mornings

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He chitters, chatters, clitters, clatters – he likes mornings
I mumble, stumble, grumble, fumble
I don’t like mornings

He hums, drums, sings, swings – he likes mornings
I flump, bump, grump, wanna thump
I don’t like mornings

He sways, strays, plays, finds ways – he likes mornings
I hide, abide, guide, chide
I don’t like mornings

He moves, grooves, screams, beams – he likes mornings
I love him, want to shove him, but I love him –
even when he likes mornings

Inspired by today’s prompt, though not exactly following it. We’re on day 24 of #OctPoWriMo. I’m amazed that I’m still able to write, even on days when I feel like all ink has dried up in me.

My truth

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I was going to write
about how your truth matters
and that no one can take
your truth away from you
But I can’t

There are truths out there
based on lies
There are truths out there
based on predjudice
There are truths out there
based on unequal opportunities

I don’t care about those truths
I want them taken away

No one knows the truth
But everyone knows a lie

The prompt for #OctPoWriMo day 23 is What’s the message. This is what came up for me.

Shifting

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Caterpillar and ugly duckling
got so fed up with
comments about their looks
they made a pact with each other

Caterpillar spun a cocoon around them both
– impenetrable, unbreakable –
then ugly duckling swallowed him whole

No one would say
they weren’t beautiful
ever again

Their plan failed

The cocoon broke
Ugly duckling crawled out
She had brightly coloured wings
and conspicuous, fluttering flight

The prompt for day 21 of #OctPoWriMo was Nothing reamins the same. Somehow this is where that led me. I might try and draw the fluttering duckling tomorrow, but I’m not sure if I am able. I still long for a drawing to go with one of the earliest poems I wrote. I see the picture in my head, of an old fashioned bath (one of those with legs, words streaming from the tap, colouring the water…

I am lost

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I am lost
Can someone please find me?
I was last seen sobbing
on the corner of a street

I know I took a right turn
and a wrong one
Though my tears have dried
My vision stays blurred

I remember a decisive moment
a choice being unmade
Things fogged up after that
I wonder if my tears lied

I am lost now
Can you please find me?
Google maps will lead your way
if you know my coordinates

Darling

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Doll
in crib
taken care of
little mama’s heart overflowing
Love

An #elevenie for today. I like their snapshot quality, and how they often invite me to focus on something small or positive.

Substantiation

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The house did not witness the murder
It closed its blinds and retreated into the cellar

The sun shone, the birds sang
The wind blew, the bell rang
No one opened the door

A fascinating prompt today on octpowrimo.com: “Everyone went on eating” is the phrase of the day. We’re taking a slightly darker turn here. What is something that has happened that you felt should’ve changed things, but in the end didn’t cause a reaction?

I love it, but I’m not in a headspace where I’m willing to go there. I could not go with the vulnerable bit of the prompt, but I did go with the darker turn bit.

The #metoo conversations are still on my mind. One of the things that struck me yesterday, is that some commenting men were genuinely wondering how they could take the initiative without running the risk of displaying unwanted behaviour, hence being harassing.

It flabbergasted me and worried me. I know a lot of men who do know the difference between showing interest and being harassing. So what do we do with the men who genuinely don’t know how to approach a women in a way that makes her feel appreciated without being threatened?

Dogged

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Welcome, my child
I’m glad you came to play
The big bad wolf is muzzled
I couldn’t make him go away

There’s a nice, playful, dr. Seuss related prompt up today. I’m still processing the conversations I’ve had and read about sexual harassment and assault, sparked by the #metoo hashtag. So I’m feeling anything but playful.

Yesterday I did a lot of thinking around definitions of harassement, and when I personally consider something harassment or brush it of – and if that makes sense.

Today the concept of ‘victim’ is on my mind, because I’ve seen so many women say “I don’t feel like a victim”. For me, feeling a victim is feeling powerless. Something I want to avoid as much as I can. So it was easy to think there’s no #metoo for me: I’ve never felt a victim, so nothing happened. I realise it’s the other way around. I’ve had to deal with male behaviour that was out of line, uncalled for, etc. I didn’t feel a victim, but it was wrong all the same.

I do think I told my parents about the anonymous guy who flashed me when I was a teenager. There’s a funny word for it in Dutch: potloodventer (pencil peddler). It wasn’t funny, it was intimidating and it made me feel less safe.

I don’t think I ever told them rumours about my fourth grade teacher at the age of ten. Girls talked about that he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He never touched me, but I remember slapping him in the face with my upper arm, because his head popped up over my shoulder when I was drawing, sitting down at my school desk.

Yesterday, my brain tried to come up with excuses: maybe he was short sighted and that’s why his face was there? It wasn’t until I tried to picture my son’s teachers (one male, one female) THAT close to his body, uninvited, unexpectedly, that I could CLEARLY see that his face wasn’t supposed to be in a position where I had the possibility (and felt right) in slapping him with my upper arm. Personal space. My personal space.

There are so many thoughts going through my head that I find it hard to be articulate. I’ll just take this subject one day at a time. And take a break when I need one.

Monkey see Monkey don’t

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You had a monkey on your back
and a monkey in your bed
One of them was screeching
The other one was scratching

One monkey was hungry
One was fed up
The bad thing about the monkeys
was that they didn’t know when to stop

You, a lion tamer
– a monkey has no roar
You, a rodeo rider
– a monkey has no horns

You, did it
– you changed

Now you’ve got a monkey on a leash
You set the other monkey free
You’ve grown wings on your back
and you party with your fleas

There’s something weird about this poem for me. One moment I like it, and feel it’s meaningful. The other moment I dislike it and feel they are just empty words. Maybe it’s both? Empty words that are meaningful? Meaningful but empty?

Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Today I have the #metoo hashtag on my mind. This is what’s going on:

#MeToo.

If all the women who have been sexually harassed or assaulted wrote “Me too.” as a status, we might give people a sense of the magnitude of the problem.

I expected to see a lot of MeToo posts. A lot. Yet, the number is dauntingly bigger than I expected. I can’t write about that. I’m lost for words.

I’m in awe of the women who are willing to share their experiences to expose this. And I understand every woman who doesn’t want to share her experiences. My heart reaches out to all of you.