She walked to the stage with the swagger of a most superb man.

 

“Aight, calm down calm down; ya’ll amped! DJ Wrec Room got ya’ll bout ready to turn this into the club. Coming up next, a woman I just don’t have words to describe. She’s knowable only by experience…Miss Ogony!”

 

Questioning her name the audience clapped reluctantly. Whispers of confirmation, “misogyny?” filled many tongues and ears. Almost just appearing on stage; they didn’t notice her with all the side talking, she stood. Carmel skin covered in homemade clothes and jewelry, she breathed in deeply looking unmoved by their confusion or pretense. Locks of curls jumped out of her head wrapping sweeping the parts of her face some desired soulfully to see more of. She was calm, joyful and beautiful. She spoke, clearing up any confusion about her name.

 

 

 

 

“Misogyny is my name and I own it. I will be accountable for it; so it is and so shall it be, until the world sees me differently.”

 

That was not her poem. She just wanted to clear up the chatter that may have interrupt her prayer. Clouding the air, she lit three incent sticks, waved them intentfully, and placed them inside a copper bowl filled with sand that she positioned downstage.

 

“My poem is called Rise of the Feminine.”

 

Eyes stared at her and she stared right back. All felt her presence and were at attention. There was a comfortable pause, then her lips parted and the vibration was felt before the words.

 

 

 

“There is much talk about the matriarchy, how it’s been suppressed, how it’s a problem and how it should be addressed, whilst we go about our day and nothing new is felt.

Here I am, open wide for you always without condition. Still with forceful thrust you stain me with conviction.

And I take it all in.

 

This is the rise of the feminine.

 

Your beliefs do not upset me. It’s okay even if you try, to poke fun at my nature and say my ancestors lied. You can ask ME about my myths, I will tell you this, I do ejaculate, and will set your dens adrift atop waves of healing elixir; representing the mixture, of what you and I can do together. But then what will you do? Ignore my words and call me a hoe? Then confirm your suspensions by way of porno video?

 

“Rewind go back, lets see it again!”

 

Virgin brain, ready to receive;

 

This is the rise of the feminine.

 

You assume because I take your names, your phallus while uninvited, lies of false fame, love unrequited, blatant attempts to hide me in the night, and infectious vibrations, that somehow you dim my light? Clearly this is where your lack of me, is the perfect example for you to see, that once in me, you have no dominion.

 

This is the rise of the feminine.

 

What you give me is not what I take, Gladly I receive ready to twist your gift, I am by birthright an alchemist; can’t wait to rebuild you inside my walls. Secrets of babies birth hidden down these halls. What is separated,here can be made cohesive, akin to the “how” of Auset’s adhesive; this is just what I do; I’m flexible. I took all your forced semen, And I created Indigo children. Your limitations I put in a caldron, stirred them with magic words and herbs , then infinite potential was restored again.

 

This is the rise of the feminine.

 

You are incomplete without me, all these wars and babies in need. I live inside you and you inside me, balance, in all things. I love you and recognize your power, but this moment right here starts my hour. You will be allowed to speak your sin, but now;

 

This is the rise of the feminine.”

 

 

 

A group of philosophers stood outside the door of exiting patrons engulfed in conversation over her poem. No one saw her in the corner smoking already; she had exited a few minutes before they let out. Two of the men were going back and forth in delightful debate.

 

“I’m saying look, she’s not saying you should just take anything. She saying you can be receptive and not let it affect you in a negative way.”

 

“She’s saying that ol turn the other cheek bullshit. I ain’t got time for that.”

 

“You trippin. It’s more like, a “it’s not what you answer to type thing”. Plus the whole point was if you are going to support the rise of the feminine you have to learn how to be more receptive and flexible. Just like you not being receptive to what I’m saying right now!”

 

Laughter rippled out from the two men and the crowd. Smiling to herself, feeling successful she stepped off unnoticed and disappeared into the blackness.

© Kukata Kali 2014