Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Women Walking Talking Living the Hype

   Immediate is the Attention
That boulders
                  for shoulders
As she walks
With a trunk
she thinks with a smirk
rhymes with cunt
Like her cunt she believes
her flesh is of wood
She never feels good and
she knows her trunk is a tree
Its what everybody Everybody sees when they see

She lives within this mind set
Its in her eyes
looking out through her window
Her eyes demand
her whole soul screams
  Look At  Me  LOOK  AT  ME
What do you see
            her belief she is a tree
Furious her roots
are buried so deep

She lives alone in twisted belief
records and plays
the reels of her image
twenty four seven
spinning round and round
over and over again and again

Lets Listen In as she continues her walk

Theres a guy sitting having coffee as I pass him by
he will see Im a tree
                                  A Great Big Whale of a TREE
Perhaps he might like trees
                                  GReat Big Fucking Whales of Trees
Huh she grins with teeth tight clenched
                    Who am I trying to Kid ... He wont like me ...he's laughing already
                     He's laughing at me
                     Look at that Giant Tree - He thinks looking at me
Look at that tree
          Its a walking tree A walking talking tree
Got Great Big Logs for Legs
Look at that head
that bush on her head
I swear theres a nest of eggs

Thats me Im a sad piece of would be could be done's
Made of wood my trunk my head my logging legs
Im misunderstood

Her minds thoughts
drawn from hyped up guise
No pride is seen
in her height that stoops
               For she is tall
Big of bone large of limbs
Long of trunk
so her length gives height
But its in her eyes you see the fall
She thinks to herself
As a woman I
if of another place
perhaps yes even of another race
Would be dignified
Glorified and looked upon with pride
But not here  Not for her
Not for me
Not for I

She thinks
If only her skin perhaps a shade darker
she would not stand out
like the gum ghost tree
She'd be all and more
She'd be beautified
but alas
For her skin is white
Snow white pure of grey
With marks and lines
that stretch the time
showing the fine silvery blues of the birch

In the cold cold light of day
Her stomach
An alien landing site
Her apple her core
never far from the tree
this apple of me
This me the tree

She is but a Whale of a tree
that walks with Anger and Anguish
with no love in her heart
for herself
so no trust for herself or another
       she does not mother
her natural urges to nurture
                                    Her mind
                                            Her body
                                                      Her soul
and has allowed her spirit to leave

She suddenly Stops and looks down at me

She is looking at me now
I am looking at her
She wants to kill what she sees
In her eyes she sees not me
but the perfection of one
                          that is meant to be her

I hold her stare
I dare her to glare
with more than her eyes
for contact would be the first reach to my disguise
           I too am a fellow tree
for within this slim slight body of mine
I see a body
that bushes clumpy and frumpy
           she sees me as perfect and right
a body that would give her
the love she seeks in life
I wish I could tell her
this body is dying
for all she desires
is starving itself
to a death
that weighs religiously each day
a kilo or two
leads me to starving and spewing
I am
but a ghost gum of myself
For I
Like you
Also live in the woods
I too cant see the forest
for all of us trees