no more silence, only song

#metoo, she said
he said
they said

they do it 4 teh money

all that sweet they-fucked-me money
someone went to town on me
flannel nightgown down on me

…and all i got was this ptsd
and all i got was no family
and all i got was homeless
and hopeless
and shamed and named and still i came and said
#metoo

y didn’t they come out sooner? #lies

but we did
we did since words were words
and no one heard
we shouted into broken mics
we got no likes

we burned our flesh
and hoped the smell
the smell would tell you
might compel you
to our side
i never lied

and artemisia and ms. maya
and a hundred hundred hundred
like a storm unleashed
we thundered
in our songs and books and verse
with the weapon in our purse
we said me
and me and me

but you didn’t see with hands on eyes
and now it’s such a great surprise
you’re shocked, you never knew
till you saw the words #metoo?

another 1 jumping on teh bandwagon

yes, the wagon’s very full
so the horses have to pull
just to gain a little movement
after all this standing still

the songs we play are all the same
a different night
a different name
but harmony
in all the shame
and loss and costs
and silences
cause violence is
a silencer
and silence is like death
all our songs are bated breath

and we haven’t started yet
when we fucking kill regret
when we live, and don’t forget

and the static of the mics
we’re turning on

no more silence, only song

no more silence, only song

no more silence, only song

no more silence, only song

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Pen Strokes

Our nakedness is suspect
It is secret
It is sold
Our physical exposure is commoditized
And airbrushed clean
And slid from left to right
Pores abolished
Scars expunged
Our nature is covered in pen strokes
Until there is no naked left
But only the art of men

Our passions, they are suspect
They are secret
They are sold
Our conceptual exposure is commoditized
And edited clean
And slid from left to right
Forthrightness abolished
Hurt expunged
Our spirit is covered in pen strokes
Until there is no passion left
But only the words of men

by Heather Emme

I’m still in surgical recovery, so poems are keeping my blog alive. To read all the #verseday poems, click here. To read my twitter poems, click here.

Pause

I want go back
To Rexdale and say
They stopped a parade for you
The noise they made for you
The way they stayed for you
Your life matters

by Heather Emme

I’m still in surgical recovery, so posts continue to be brief and scattered. This is the first time I’ve posted one of my twitter poems to #verseday. I felt this was worth repeating. To read all the #verseday poems, click here. To read my twitter poems, click here.

 

Out

I came out
The station door
Church and Wellesley
Ninety-Four
Silent, shy
I heard a roar
It shook the floor
A million people
Maybe more

And more than that
Yes, more than that
Were colours
Like a Sunday hat
Colours like a rainbow, earthed
And planted, sewn
And watered, grown
So many bodies
Like my own

And I was home

by Heather Emme

To read all the #verseday poems, click here. To read my twitter poems, click here.

Writing To You from the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health

Fingerprints stamp urgency
Where postmarks can’t be found
A letter this important
Should not be here on the ground

by Heather Emme

Just a mini-verse as I recover from my surgery. To read all the #verseday poems, click here. To read my twitter poems, click here.

In Christie Pits

The wading pool is emptied out
The trees have left their leaves about
You wear no coat, but breathe a cloud
In puffs that float, above the crowd
At play in Christie Pits

Last night the swings were flipped around
You try to reach them from the ground
Your sister climbs to set them back
While father mimes a heart attack
Brought on at Christie Pits

You snack on fruit and carrot sticks
On cans of pop and peanut mix
You heed the words from all the mums
To feed the birds but not the bums
Who sleep in Christie Pits

The swing is swung, the slide is slid
The climbers climbed, the rides all rid
It’s time to go, you beg to stay
A second NO! You turn and say
Goodbye to Christie Pits

by Heather Emme

To read all the #verseday poems, click here. To read my twitter poems, click here.

 

Goodnight

SLNSW_10716_2UW_Audition_StudioIf me and you
You and me
Met face to face
Each in our space
There are chances
All the chances
That we would have felt uncomfortable

We would have left with nothing
Left with nothing
Left to show for it

But I met you through melody
Through songs that melted into me
Through songs I heard but could not see
Through words you wrote instinctively

And so I guess I know you some
And so I cry a little bit
I cry a bit
I cry for it
For ends and counting infinite
I count the rhythm of the step
You take away from all of this
You take away your time, your kiss
Goodnight sweet prince
I tell you this
The music can be solid, sure
In a way you never were
The music can be sure

And the silence can endure

by Heather Emme

To read all the #verseday poems, click here. To read my twitter poems, click here.