Sad Woman
Woke up a sad woman,
My disgust I never hid behind mascara,
He stands beside the wall mirror,
“Come on honey, hide your bruises,
Cover your face, conceal your tears”,
I hesitate,
“Don’t you want to look good?”
He wields a whip,
Lashes it on my hip,
Bending me to his will.
Woke up a sad woman,
Mouth forever shut not anymore,
Foully stenched silence of historical suppression,
Yes! I can speak the language I deem fit for me,
Not the one you enslaved me with,
Neither will I cower at the sight of a rusty barrel,
Emitting bullets,
Ending my existence.
Woke up a sad woman,
Countrymen limbs chained to a post,
Breast-less bodies expeditiously torn,
Voices chanting freedom in my backyard,
Like a fevered puppy on doggy titties,
He sits in the high castle,
Strumming his knifed mustache,
Gun pointed at my head,
“If your sons do not pay, I will take your lands”
As Written by Phill Ibsen
(Master of Descriptions)
Originally published at http://phillpoet.wordpress.com on February 23, 2020.