process notes:
Two or three revisions, and it ended here. I’m not sure what I think of this piece or where it came from…sometimes they just roll out of our fingers without thought. This is the ninth day and 9 is a magic number. Who knows where Saturday rolls, as it rises from the darkness beneath dawn.
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parent
reprehensible self-promoting agenda
covers who you are
while your children
suffocate and die
beneath your goddamn mothering
wake up
wake up and smell their lives
passing before your life
you blood sucking pig
eat what you spit out
or die
we the people are tired of your
it’s all about me agenda
roller coasting across
the days of our lives
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Thank you to Writer's Island for providing a place to post every day this month, and always on Saturdays.
5 comments:
Sounds like a description of the Nanny State...
I just spoke with my daughter, who called me to wish me a happy birthday and then vented about her troubles with her daughter, and I kept thinking about when she and I went through the same cycle. Your poem hits home on so many levels, proving that personal is political, and political is personal. Things never change quickly. Good expressive writing,
Elizabeth
Agreed, this is an expressive poem, Brenda. My mother always warned me about days I had to look forward to, fortunately my daughter caused me little trouble.
Pamela
This piece is industrial strength ... sounds like a subject you feel passionate about.
Thanks for your comments. I wasn't sure about posting this, because it's so angry. This piece is about a woman that I suspect has some manifestation of munchausen syndrome. The poem's volitility surprised, when I woke up and read it again this morning.
~Brenda
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