Forged of Flame: A Shield Maiden Battle Song

My latest collaboration with my fiercely talented warrior sisters. Thank you Kindra for inviting us to your conflagration!

Blood Into Ink

valkyrie(Kindra M. Austin)

The fire that whelms me does   

not consume; for it is mine

own—

I do control inferno,

a blood-borne lust to conquer

pain—

Here you come with buckets of water,

and a head distended with ego

convinced I’m a woman in distress

The fire that whelms me does

not consume; for it is mine

own—

my defense mechanism,

desire to live forged in

flame—

Shield Maiden calls for no goddamned man 

(Aurora Phoenix)

these flames that fence me

char me not

they are the hungering tongues

of my animus

I spark them

cerise

feeding them on

the oxygen of my outrage

when the world crushes

upon me

you hasten forward

all suited up

toting your much touted hose

as if your stream

could touch these flames

these flames that fence me

char me not

they are the hungering tongues

of my animus

I fan them

as…

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Maggot Memoirs

(A response poem to the collaborative piece ‘Shoo, Fly‘ by the amazing Kindra M. Austin and Samantha Lucero, on Sudden Denouement. Be sure to read this stunning piece.)

 

I recall the apparition.

they squirmed a nauseating mess,

a poltergeist steak on the garage floor.

I puzzle on the number

of maggots that have crawled upon me.

 

I knew they were flies – in bars and in dorms rooms.

I swatted at the buzz of their egos

in Greek chorus. I was that girl

with the grades and the holey swatter.

I was that girl, brilliant and slightly awkward,

attracting flies as brilliantine

greases fashionista disasters.

I was that girl with fierce four-eyed intent

and dismal coordination, that girl

who looked in the mirror

with inverted beer goggles.

when flies buzzed habitual lies

of beauty and breaktakability

I was entangled in gossamer webs

spun of red perfumed roses,

trips to Paris and hot air

balloon rides. my flyswatter

matted in the webbing.

 

flies or not, I learned.

I learned control was a pulled down

zipper and me wriggling my way

down the bed and control

was how I wrought their finish

while I still wore my clothes

if not my dignity. I 80’s teased

my hair, not their cocks.

 

I have no doubt those flies

nestled in Aqua Net nests

leaving me their seed.

I am left maggoty

lo these many years

in the stale beer and hazy afters.

I can feel them crawling on me-

the maggots of those lost girl nights.

 

some nights I am swarmed

by the maggots that silent whisper

buzzing lies anew, across

generations of girls

Tie your hair up girls

and earn some respect.

 

I scoop the maggots from my ears

ferret them out

from dark warm mind corners.

I see now the rest of that vision

the hose pulverizing

the quivering worm morass.

it is a fire hose, now,

instrument of salvation, not a grandiose

phallic substitute –

as if, boys! –

and I loose it on the maggot

memories.

 

 

Diseased, Dressed to Kill

written in response to Kindra M. Austin’s My Melancholia

 

camouflage contamination

dress distress

glittered

metaphorical mélange

write wrongs

mournful songs

float

horror clowns

ballooned

botulistic buffoons

festooned

ribbons and pearls

silken whorls

miss the girls

unkissed

twirls

virtue festered

swirls

worry a decayed tooth

aching

with heartless tongue

suppurate

my soul

paint lipstick

fuchsia figments

re-imagine

haute couture

putrefaction

Unheard Incantations: A Collaborative Poem

The words we cannot say
Will be wept
Into silence between us (CER)

Breathe deep, dear love;
Be still with me
Listen to my heartstrings
A song meant just for you (KMA)

Each tear
An eloquent elegy
To tortured truths (AP)

Each note played
On a hand carved lute
Strung with strips
Of my soul (JWL)

Your breathless aura
Beats in time
Undulating ululation
With my exhaled psyche (AP)

Intertwined, tangled,
Unified: whole
Healed. (JWL)

Yet with hearts torn open
Bleeding out the notes of our song
You turned from me (ME)

I am fire
Drowning
In desire
Weep
I beg
Save me (1W-W)

Fetch me an instrument,
For the untrained ear
Is soothed by that
Which it cannot comprehend. (LEL)

Not everything is black and white.
For even the eclipsed moon
Is not without a little light. (SD)

Whispers through the distance
I remember
As you reach for my hand
my heart (CER)

Our words
Still
Bleeding
Drip like fire
Into embers
Wanting back
Their flame. (SFF)

The words we cannot say
Will be wept
Into silence between us (CER)

Written by:

1Wise-Woman

Kindra M. Austin

Sarah Doughty

Michael Erickson

Stephen F. Fuller

John W. Leys

Lois E. Linkens

Aurora Phoenix

Christine E. Ray

 

Stirring – A Collaborative Poem from Kindra Austin, Christine Ray, and Aurora Phoenix

Your swift flowing water

Elusive, quicksilver

Brushes past my shores

Licking
my roughing grains
burgeoning
a flash flood

Tributaries
cut into earth
New veins carry fresh lifeblood

Awakening me

from long slumber

longing rippling outward

concentric circles

lapping

by turns urgent

and languid

your ebb

begets my flow

See the colors of infant life

sprouting

hungry

brilliant resilience

inherited DNA

 

 

 

Kindra Austin is the voice at Kindra M. Austin

Aurora Phoenix writes at Insights from”Inside”

Christine Ray blogs at Brave and Reckless

All three can be found at Blood Into Ink and Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

 

Warrior Women Anthem

Collaboration with my amazingly fierce Warrior Sister Kindra M. Austin

 

Yes, I know my place—

And it’s not in the shadows of darkened corners,

Slumped over and bleeding, weeping.

It’s not in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant or otherwise.

It’s not in the hospital having bones reset, or split lips stitched.

Yes, I know my place—

Push me down, drag me out,

And I will get up on my two feet

Because my place is to stand among my Warrior Sisters

 

I have been out of place

cowering, confused by calamities

conforming, if only for moments

to lessened expectations

I have been out of place

biting my lip

silencing caustic retorts

eviscerating commentary

on the lot I was caste

I have been out of place

head shamefully bowed

hiding my brilliant plumage

muffling scintillating wit

lest I overstep, overshadow

narrowly defined confines

 

Shed used skin—toss it away

And open eyes, newborn light.

Hold on heart, the time is now—

Cast aside those ropes,

Take up your banner.

Riot for your life.

 

it has been said

I am out of line

dare I speak too loudly

of my truths

my place is colored riotous rainbows

outside your compliant lines

it has been said

I am out of line

dare I dance with abandon

in the face of obsolescence

my place is scented midnight jasmine

in the garden where my good

overgrows obsequious evils