O Women, the mothers and sisters,
That the world can treat you like this!
You were heroes from the start
When you left your father's house
Aiming to build your own nest.
This you'd do in a foreign land,
The home of the man!
Mother, caterer, dairy,teacher,
Social worker, cook, laundress,
Sometimes even lecturer, judge,
Lawyer, politician, whatever!
But there are some who see you
Merely as low hanging fruit
For ridicule and abuse!
You pioneered in the struggle for freedom
But when it came you were pushed aside.
You're now faced with another struggle:
The fight for gender equality!
Men want to keep you in your place.
Wish you strength and luck!
Your battle is an uphill one
Because your man is compromised!
His work is to support you
But here , he is unemployed.
It's an anomalous situation!
In truth half the world is sick!
And it comes to you!
My humble suggestion would be:
Carry on fighting for your house.
Honour your man come rain or shine
Whether he has or he hasn't!
Continue making your house a home.
You'll be truly accomplished!
And have God in your life!
beauty salon gossip,
or presidential debate ...
Laundress conversation,
or trump x joe ?
Will It be :
Socialism where "scarcity of everything"
or liberal Chevrolet fish tail?
Which team are you fan of?
Proud boys
or chicago boys ¹
Stick Man Brothers
or barred at the ball?
cheap proselytism for leeches
or expensive pleasure for the ignorant?
what will it be, how will it be?
]
My mother filled so many roles,
In helping seven meet their goals.
She reared us by her fine-tuned tools
Of simple but unbending rules.
She was teacher, preacher, censor,
Most of all a love dispenser,
A mentor, doctor, nurse and cook,
Skills not yet found in any book,
Seamstress, laundress and home-maker,
Maid and cake and cookie baker,
All the time filling Daddy's life
With happiness as his loved wife.
the season I turned eleven
was the season that I died
there'd been blood betrayal and famine
and I thought I had survived
my neighbor killed my kitten
and for that I could not cry
my mother went to handle it
told me to stay inside
i sat poised in an armchair
trying to calm my mother down
while I could feel nothing
we knew she'd made him drown
the woman was a laundress
washed other people's clothes
didn't like the stink of pig sties
it offended her frail nose
the wash-board on the right side
where the pigs did have their homes
was the one she always gave me
like the left one was her own.
only when a pig was hanging
would she demand to trade
i'd wash next to a hog's corpse
a choice could not be made.
then one day I got angry
and I dared to move her clothes
i moved them to the right side
as the rage inside me rose
the woman tapped my window
and said your cat is dead
it was two days before Christmas
she roused me from my bed
there was display of feeling
tears could not be be shed
gray fades to black
hello sadness my old friend
12/11/06