Saturday, May 15, 2010

Ancient Heart, Modern World

Wherever did my insides go

away so far with laughing leaves

on turning winds of Autumn air

oh where could my desires be

inside so deep, asleep?

No. They stir

they squirm inside their

circumstantial shackles

hard they push but quietly

In leaves they dare not make a rustle

in the snow they dare not crunch

Lest I wake the bossy world.

I stalk my dreams in camouflage

I track them silently.

I watch them from a shadowed cave

a purgatory's slave.

Sit still my dear and watch these plants

it makes no difference - your dresses or your pants

watch this plant until it shows

you where inside your soul

you lost

your heartache nerves

and chose to be this numb, this scared

and ask how you can be repaired

And get up off your ass and act

with sharpened blades of Self

Just do

what matters to you. If you see

the dance in a song and you want to move,


if you see the medicine in movement,

then heal

if you are sick and tired of redundant linear grace

the pirouettes of symmetrical faces

then be the grit. The noise. The mismatched perfection.

Disgrace to us our pigeonholes of women's lines and curves defined

if we accept these roles - these holes - then we are still confined

I spit on billboards hot with exploit

I spit on mini skirts

I shit on all your subjugation, all your secret tabloid worlds.

I shit on all your tampon governments.


I scream

to be recklessly beautiful

to let my thighs dance free and wild and ripped with muscle

to show the leaves I know their route

from life to yellow flight and forest floor death

Uncurl like ferns and fingers

Ripen like flesh and fruit.

I hurt inside, to love without


My back aches to bend in arcs

like rose canes drenched in blossoms

Fastened by roots.

But I lack the thorns.

All those eyes of expectation

all those red pens marking

yes or no, good or bad, right or sin.

All those chasing egos on my skin

and ropes of judgment cast.

These artist shackles keep me locked

in bars of iron, barbs of heart. Inside I wait

for freedom's gate.

For safety's key

and fearless walk.

1 comment:

Yarrow said...

Ananda, I am very much enjoying your poetry. This one is especially thought provoking. Blessings.