Category: current affairs

What’s Wrong With This Image?

I hear my mother’s voice
questioning my intentions
certain I’m not doing it right
this wifely thing

I’ll be abandoned, surely –
it all rests on a string for her –
if dinner isn’t on the table at 4:38
or the beds are not made right away
or the laundry basket, unfolded,
remains in sight –
then who blames the man
for leaving.

Six generations now
I’ve witnessed women fighting
for equality, for recognition
and still the old guard holds on

And now politicians –
men with loose jowled egos
and paunchy stances –
and so-called religious leaders
call for a retraction –
women’s lives at stake

Who will lobby for women’s rights
when the female voice is silenced
needs carefully tucked away
so as not to raise ire in her mate?

White Noise

(Warning: foul language)

Rallies, hired guards,
warnings of revolution
and God knows what

Ambition is a cruel cage

Freak offs, and hitmen,
made-up masculinity
unintelligible banter

Power wields cold chains

Misogyny is not a win
archaic ideations –
not the mark of divinity-

Free the barbed emotions
of Patriarchal walls
unstable…and now…
exposed

Despair is paralysis
a surrender to the lies

Shooter drills no solution

It’s fear that motivates
and righteousness that binds
and in the white noise
of rising awareness

The perpetrators
calmly walk away
Exit strategy preplanned

While we pray
that karma is a bitch
and limp back
to our wasted lives.

(Art my own)

The Department Store Tower

(Warning: Poem makes reference to child abuse)

She taught me how to stay out of sight
the women who worked the candy counter

Dragged my fourteen-year-legs in beside her
as management brushed past, oblivious

Stick to the aisles and passageways, she said
Make sure you are always busy.

She couldn’t say the words that burned on her tongue:
He’ll follow you into darkened corners of the warehouse
He’ll lock the doors and tell you it’s all your fault

No one talked about what this man did,
five floors beneath the department store opulence
While people shopped, and ate, and bought

The wheels of consumerism, well-oiled
stuffing our consciousness with lies and deceit
the vulnerable confined to shadows and margins

But some of us will never forget
Innocent fragments haunting locked corners
Ensuing rage still railing against the injustice
That puts a pedophile in charge.

(Image my own)

Brute

The man is rhino
mere stench of him
inspires fear
clears the room

We cower, quietly
captivated little mice
terrified he’ll call us out
bullied into submission

But this status quo
bears no permanence
time and circumstance
will topple the power

And once writhing
on his backside, who
will venture to help, and
who will leave him be?

(Original was written in 2020. Seems it still applies. Image my own)

Inside Out

We decry loss of innocence
whilst downplaying our sins

Not news.
Blame is a tricky game…

Better to practice accountability
than to capture the podium…

Changing the world
inside out.

(I’ve been thinking about all the noise going on in political forums and wondering if we the people hadn’t best organize in order to protect ourselves from any unforeseen fallout. Not sure what that would look like, but losing my trust in ‘leadership’.)

My image.

These Times

Who is at the table
negotiating peace?

A trans man
bares his brave chest
Is his flesh not
our flesh?

Indigineous mothers
cry for lost daughters
Is their plight
not our plight?

Shopkeepers moan
how long can we endure
the inequities
of an indifferent eye?

Child of mine
what future awaits
as I watch our progress
slide, painfully in reverse?

I want to be a beacon
of encouragement
believe that harmony
even exists

But the noise
in the streets
is deafening
truths trampled

The false prophets
the politicians
the blinding pull
of greed

There are none at the table
but anarchy’s decoys.


A Christmas Haibun

The stillness within these walls contrasts the frazzled buzzing in town. Shops lined with Christmas must-haves will entice those running on impulse. Buy, buy, buy! This season, more than any other, evokes a yearning for perfection. I am weary of it all, defiantly resisting the urge to dress and venture out for that one last thing. We will gather soon enough, exchange gifts, gorge ourselves on seasonal specialities. Afterward, I will be content to find a quiet corner, reflect and give thanks for another holiday season survived.

Christmas lights sparkle
We’re meant to be of good cheer –
Parched Spruce sheds its charm.

(Image my own)