Here is a ticket,
exempting you from fighting.
A ticket
out of town, praise whatever gods there are.
We fight in the town.
We sell tickets beforehand.
We call each other bitches and all sorts of things.
Every woman is a god(dess.)
Don't forget to tick the box.
Whatever.
There is no reasoning with you.
God knows why God(dess) made a great honking bitch like you.
I exempt myself from all this.
Let us now praise famous men.
Men like us when we fight.
In the town, by the fountain, glittering with coins.
Fight, fight, that's the ticket
to a life filled with famous men swooning over our dumb butts.
Whatever god(desse)s there are
can't cope, they lie down in a bed made of doves
as we fight, under the imprimatur some bitch, in a box, atop a pole
That the famous men have put there, and we appease, to great applause.
_______
for Weekend Mini Challenge at Toads.
Wow Shay. You took this prompt and turned it into something fresh and new. You make a good point about us fighting. A very good point. I only wrote about my bees. Yours is much better.
ReplyDelete"That the famous men have put there, and we appease, to great applause." Why do we still do that? And why do we fight?
ReplyDeleteYou really took this form to the next level.
You always take a prompt and stand it on its head. I love your first stanza best. LOL. Excellent.
ReplyDeleteThe saddest thing about this piece is that the struggle for equal rights, consideration or whatever (with the sexual divide) is taking so long to be accepted. This is such a shame (on men of course)!
ReplyDeleteYes, appeasing may be almost unconscious, we are so conditioned. I love the verve and pace of this, as well as what it says.
ReplyDeletePlease note: I have ticked the box.
ReplyDeleteYou are the goddess of the words, Shay! And these days, I just focus on people, rather than gender stereotypes, trying to filter out sundry bitches and bastards. Who needs them anyway?
ReplyDeleteI exempt myself from all this
I love the way you take a prompt, like a blank square of paper, and origami it into something original, Shay, with bite!
ReplyDeleteWhatever!
ReplyDeleteNo really, this is spot-on, as they say.
This is a poem you can read in a few minutes, but might take hours or even days to really unpack. Fighting seems to be such a part of us, and those who take the ticket out of town likely only find another fight somewhere else. I feel in this a strong sense of manipulation from the wings, that what divinity resides in us is a treacherous one, and that indeed, we are often masks, even to ourselves. Sharp as a stiletto heel on a hairy instep, Shay.
ReplyDeleteWhat can I say after this...?
ReplyDeleteMan (not famous)
The third stanza conjures up images of someone laughing almost (but not really) hysterically, while punching an idiot in the teeth.
ReplyDelete