My body is my body. I’m not bothered what you think of
it.
It’s carried me through all these years no matter what
I’ve thrown at it.
The marks on my flesh; the scars on my organs
They’re trophies from my battles with the metaphoric
gorgons.
I’m feeling freed from the cycles of love and hate and
love and hate
Now I’ve relinquished thinking on self-comparative
debate.
Some people get my name wrong and they pronounce Georgina
But I’m not diminutive in stature or demeanor.
Dubbed as weird, mad, aggressive and crazy
Because the clarity I see, to them, is hazy.
Censored by illiterati, told I’m inappropriate.
Asked if I was born with bollocks, labeled frigid, called
a slut.
I’m conscious of all my decisions, chosen to remember
them
At times when I am finding out if they were right or they
were wrong.
I don’t claim omniscience. I hold intelligence in awe
I’d rather know I’m ignorant and perfectly flawed
For the journey’s earning’s learning in its absolute form
And it gives your seasons reasons for your earthly
sojourn.
They say “Don’t get her started” and “Not again, here we
go”
When engaging in discussion and opinion of their point is
low.
This is my elixir, though. This heady mix of raw debate.
With sowing of seeds and the joy to watch them germinate.
Frustrated by the limitations I cannot see
That seem to bind most others to a life semi-free
With their worries of decorum or etiquette or saving
face.
I’d like to rip their blinkers off, put Technicolor in
their place.
You’ll never know what you could be if you never try
And then you’ll blink and you’ll be at the end of your
life.
I’ve seen too many dreamers go to holes in the ground
And damsels in distress choosing to wait to be found
By princes preoccupied with kissing the seeming dead.
I can’t understand why they don’t rescue themselves
instead.
I love Lara, Xena, Tank Girl and Janeway
For standing up and counting, for doing things their own
way.
Ignoring real heroines, a culture habitual.
The women on that list were completely fictional.
I’m not sold on the Lady myth. Keep your expectations.
Sell them to someone who’ll accept that degradation.
Do you want your daughters to grow up with choice?
Then encourage them to speak in an authorative voice.
Teach everyone to accept that “no means no”
But it also means “stop asking” and “leave me alone!”
If someone cannot answer it’s still not consent
And you don’t get to decide what unconscious people
meant.
Those lines that you claim are blurred beyond compare
Are clear as Autumn air, no matter what clothes you wear.
Attraction’s not a circumstance of pink and blue
So stop trying to squeeze a right foot in a left hand
shoe.
I stole that line from Carroll, from the Man Upon A Gate
But unlike him I know that there is too much to relate.
For the journey’s earning’s learning in its absolute form
And it gives your seasons reasons for your Earthly
sojourn.
There is too much to discover for to ever be bored
And you’ll find its only you who is even keeping score.
So accept your physicality and mistakes of the past
For your time here is limited and goes pretty fast.
Do you honestly want your last thought to be
“I didn’t spend enough time just being me”?
