Thursday
Tuesday
Roseanne, vagenius poet, East Colfax, and yellow bathroom doors
@lisbethwest vagenius poetryI must admit that the title of "Vagenius poet" was a huge ego burst for a short time. Yup, I wrote a great poem. I knew it when it was being penned and I mean that literally. I do not write poetry. It writes me.
— Roseanne Barr (@TheRealRoseanne) June 3, 2013
And so I have spoken this poem, i am stood in the mirror and recited this poem when finally, then-memories of my own childhood abuse came rushing to me in that terrifying, liberating, life-changing day. I remember standing and looking at myself in that mirror and knowing, finally, truth.
@lisbethwest we said 'the children will speak the names of their secret abusers'So the Roseanne I met at the bookstore back in the '70s was a helluva woman. She became part of the collective with the spirit, dedication and absolute conviction that has become evident to the world. She opened the door for many of us
— Roseanne Barr (@TheRealRoseanne) June 3, 2013
Those memories flooded when we connected on twitter. I did a photo exhibit for the first Lesbian convention held in Denver, and most of the subjects were women from the bookstore. These are packed away, I work to get to them and will find them soon as i have helpers coming to go through some of the things I need to finally accept.. time to give away, throw away, or keep dear.
I remembered being a single woman. I didn't marry a man until I was 43. I married a woman at age 39. We remain wed, though she is incarcerated in a nursing home in Texas.
And so, the vagenius poet has not much to poeticize today. Oh wait. The poem I wrote for my wife.
Roseanne's Poem can be found at http://vageniuspoet.wordpress.com/
you are the twelve year oldthirty
child who daddy
used to lie on top of his thick palm
slapped over your mouth
you learned not to scream
you are a twelve year old
child who learned
to pierce your screams with a needle
you spiked heroin into your vision
you learned not to scream
you are a hundred year old
junkie the monkey
lays on top of you his thick palm
forcing himself inside you
you need no screams
you are that sixty year old
daddy the rapist
who lays on top of me your screams
forcing yourself inside me
I learn not to scream
twelve year old
children we watch
from the corner of the room
slapped silent by his thick palm
©2000 lisbeth westfor my wife, Candy.
written May 1, 1992
You will have to come back for the yellow bathroom door.
Hear ye, hear ye! Be it known throughout the Twitterverse & beyond that @therealroseanne hath gifted us with "vagenius!" @lisbethwest #WotD
— fugi #RecoverySec (@fugitive247) June 5, 2013
Thursday
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