I feel lucky, to be who I am; to be alive; to have survived (not just the debacle of this last 12 months of a pandemic, but all that life has thrown me); to be more scared of living in fear than anything else. 

Don't get me wrong, life often feels like a big heap of unfair shit. I struggle sometimes, when I look at the easy passage some have in life and how utterly oblivious they are to the relative ease with which they move through life. But I'm not bitter, refuse to be. I reserve all my bad feelings for those whom have done me wrong in life and more pertinently, refuse to dwell too much on those people. Sometimes, as a way of releasing that anger, I write (poetry, long ranting articles), I create (art; visual, audio, dance) and I aim to leave that anger there and dwell instead on my blessings. I'm alive. I'm still here. I'm me (and not them). 

Years ago I was raped. I've written about this before. Sometimes I just need to express an aspect of that angst. Ptsd will probably always be a feature of my life, but it is one I have learned to work with. The following poem is one I wrote as an angry, revenge fantasy about my (last) rapist. I didn't know what to do with the feelings of anger, self hatred, shame and guilt. So instead of internalising it, I wrote this and made it into a slightly macabre piece of sound art... Spoken word poetry with a twist. It is in French because, I liked writing poetry in French at that point and also It felt too much to read aloud in my own native tongue. 

I dedicate it to anyone out there who feels the weight of burden that trauma can bring. Know this; anger is valid but use it wisely, NEVER EVER internalise it, turn it into something powerful and just hope that karma catches up with those who did you wrong. 



Here is the poem and the original piece of artwork I did to go with it...

VAGINA DENTATA

Just shut them pretty wet eyes
And think of blue skies
As this boyman
So repressed and socialised
Holds you still
With centuries of entitlement
With a lifetime
Of the fear inspired
By statistics
Oral histories
Passed down by mothers and just life
Block it out
Shut them pretty wet eyes
Feel them there teeth descend
As he struggles to get his dick hard
Poor fucked up soul
How could he possibly know
That this pussy got teeth now

Allow him to talk dirty
Blame you for his actions
Paint you flirty
In your fuck me boots
And short skirt
Smelling of rum n ginger
Bathed in tears
And smudged mascara
Calling you bitch, whore
Unaware of dentata
Poor fucked up soul
How could he possibly know
That this pussy got teeth now

Hear him coo as he rips at your pants
To reveal
That gateway to his unknown hell
Open your eyes and smile
Lick your lips and smile
As he prepares to complete this violation
Clock the look of confused
Trepidation
At the sudden shift in your expression
As you (willingly)
Pull your legs up
And arch your back
All the way up and over
Displaying that pussy
Like a cat
Poor fucked up soul
How could he possibly know
That this pussy got teeth now...

And in French ...

Ferme ces jolis yeux mouillés
Et pense au ciel bleu
Comme ce garçon
Si réprimé et socialisé
Vous tient immobile
Avec des siècles de droit
Avec une vie
Inspiré par la peur
Par statistiques
Histoires orales
Transmis par les mères et la vie juste
Bloquez-le
Ferme ces jolis yeux mouillés
Sentez ces dents descendre
Alors qu'il lutte pour obtenir sa bite dur
Pauvre âme foutue
Comment pourrait-il savoir
Que cette chatte a des dents maintenant

Permettez-lui de parler sale
Vous blâme pour ses actions
Vous a peint comme une coquine
Dans tes baise moi bottes
Et jupe courte
Odeur de rhum n gingembre
Baigné de larmes
Et du mascara taché
Il t'appelle salope, putain
Pas au courant de dentata
Pauvre âme foutue
Comment pourrait-il savoir
Que cette chatte a des dents maintenant

Écoutez-le roucouler alors qu'il déchire votre pantalon
Révéler
Cette passerelle vers son enfer inconnu
Ouvrez vos yeux et souriez
Lèche tes lèvres et souris
Alors qu'il se prépare à terminer cette violation Voir l'apparence de la confusion
Inquiétude
Au changement soudain de ton expression Comme vous (volontiers)
Tirez vos jambes vers le haut
Et cambre ton dos
Tout au long de la route
Afficher cette chatte
Comme un chat
Pauvre âme foutue
Comment pourrait-il savoir
Que cette chatte a des dents maintenant ...