Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Poetry By Misti Rainwater-Lites

lonely down saturday's highway

blistered by your sun
which is your ego fried hard
and I'm allergic

too soon the moon goes
like my mom, a Gemini
I have no covers

blast me like you will
scorch me like you do, laughing
watch the layers peel...

Pep Talk From A Security Supervisor

they are wondering if maybe
you could get to work
five minutes earlier
grave shift guards love to bitch

they are wondering if maybe
you could smile and speak to them
when you scowl in silence
it makes them nervous
call center employees
are all about the mindless smiles
and matching courtesies

maybe you could iron
your uniform
shine your shoesput your hair in a ponytail
look awake
put away the poetry
and lipstick
sit up straightmake eye contact

a monkey could do your job
but good monkeys
are hard
to find

another American man stickin’ to his guns

the bubble head bitch is interviewing
the marine asshole on some mindless
morning show
they are surrounded by people
with balloons and posterboards
who wave at the camera
hopped up on starbucks coffee
and their pathetic fifteen minutes
bubble head bitch tells marine asshole
there are people who disagree
with his actions
which were emptying two magazines
into two iraqi insurgents
then writing No Better Friend No Worse Enemy
on the hood of their car
marine asshole says that’s fine
he fought in a war
to defend those people’s right
to disagree
just what the world needs
another american man

I Could've Been a Flower

I was on the ground
mute and delicate
on my back
I could've been
a flower
or a weedbut I was a six year old girl
and he was the preacher's boy from across the street
an average sized teenage boy
but to me he was a giant
and I couldn't fight him off
he pinned me down
and I saw that the clouds were in the sky
and I could hear the birds in the trees and on the telephone wires and
the cars
driving down the street
and he gave me a Little Golden book
filled with songs
and told me to read to himand if I could read
he would let me go
I was so scared and illiterate
I was such a slow learner
late bloomer
I was a dumb kid
not the kind of kid parents brag about at cocktail parties
and I was weak
and meek
not a fighter
and I don't know where my parents were
I don't know where anyone was
I was there
and he
was above me
and that was first in a series
of episodes that made my inner voice dialogue
work overtime and off the clock
I am small
I am a girl
I am weak
I cannot speak
I have no voice
I have no choice
They can push me down
and step on me
I'm going to have to learn how to read
I'm going to have to learn how to scream
This isn't a dream
This is life happening whether the angels in heaven like it or not
They must be having an off day
They must be having choir practice

I could've been a flower
but I
a girl

Misti Rainwater-Lites is the editor and publisher of Instant Pussy, a monthly print zine that features poetry that does not suck, collages, weird craig's list personals, tits & ass & pussy & the occasional cock. http://instantpussy.tripod.com

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