the last sin
  pale ashen sky
a bleary eye
clouds of recurring screams...
i am a zoo
  an octopus leviathan
tentacles into an ocean
of unformed emotions...
syphilis and love  
  syphilitic pall
stifles the clear blue
i contort...
shell and pearl
  amidst highs and lows
in life's ocean flows
a shell peony-mouthed...
i am an unmarried mother
  fed on stings
of barbed milk morality
my child-plankton...
the lovers
  cell upon cell
bridge of their union
hung on the pillars...
  ogre of age
and time cavil
at a warm picture...
the young today
  innocence thaws
at the altar
of ambition...

a penis thinks aloud after seeing a performance of the vagina monologues

forget the biological description
it’s clearly more than a moist canal
in females extending
from the labia minora to the uterus
a passageway fraught with promise
come to think of it
vagina is an interesting organ
oh perhaps organ maybe too masculine
a taxonomy for it
it’s floral to the core
and replete with mysteries
petal after petal
from vulva to vulva
unfolding the secrets of the universe
its beauty and beastliness
its creative energy and brutalising power
gateway to the forbidden zone
conduit to life
yoni the possessor of spiritual energy
and what about its alter ego
cunt ah lemme say it again cunt
that most misunderstood of words
evokes such a potent imagery
try it with me
roll your tongue or spit the word
let the sound come from your guts
and you will feel its sheer power
and its cathartic cleansing impact
on guilt-laden souls raised over
centuries of self-serving patriarchy
in the service of the indolent ungainly
penis the oldest male con trick
Freud’s psychoanalytical
vagina dentata and his Victorian
vagina angst be damned
the good doctor’s everyman’s
subconscious fear hypothesis
turned on its head by insecure penis zealots
revelling in female genital mutilation
the original felony against nature
enough of digression let’s come back
to that delightful word cunt
arguably even more powerful
than love or fuck
and despite its gregariousness
the most lonely of parts
home to clit the generator
of whirlwind sensations
stemming from 8000 nerve endings
with a singular objective
pleasure with a capital P
so why are we squeamish about the vagina
when most of us have passed
through its moist walls?
am at a loss of words to write about vagina
vagina i want to eat you for dinner
look at you
touch you
feel you
stare at you
venerate you
penetrate you
hold you in awe
lick you
fondle you
push against you
get consumed by you
strange you define my existence
and yet you don’t need me
designed to live without a man
the most unglamorous of creatures
complete in your splendid
wholesome isolation
causing heartburn and envy
raising uncertainty
and anxiety
am i gonna be up and tough?
unleashing a torrent of violence
from mutilation in childhood
to rape and cigar burns
while i sit back flaccid
letting them violate you
into subjugation
bring me that red hot knife
hold the little girl’s legs
stuff some cloth in her mouth
and let me erase her pleasure mound
the home to all troubles
it’s not about sex
but about power and politics

Foucault said surveillance is power
men examine women to objectify them
to command them
but in a changing world
and yes a beginning has been made
this examination is about surrender
and a humbling experience
today it’s the sisterhood of vaginas
trust a day would come
when a thousand penises
shall march with you
to protest
because in the protest will lie
their salvation
you don’t need us
but we need you
lest we become irrelevant
and marginalized
and fade into the dusty bowels
of nowhere land

and become nowhere people

(19- 21 March 2004)