Are You Fucking New Here?- A Weyward Sisters Collaboration

Originally published on Sudden Denouement

You dropped by today
dissected my verse
thoughtfully pointed out
all the ways I could
smooth out my edges
improve flow
to slide more gently past
your discerning eyes
you must be fucking new here
if you think
I was asking for it
not a fan of unsolicited advice
my “friend”
I like my truth
raw
bloody
with a hint of lemon for acidity
that stings going down

(Christine E. Ray)

Oh, hello,
I didn’t see you there
although I can already tell you like to stare,
as if it is your obligation
to females everywhere.
And everywhere you seem to be.
You’re the type who lingers in keyboards,
assaulting our letters
with ones you would never dare to speak.
You’re the type who visits galleries just to sigh,
point out the vulvas in the petals
and tut at a landscape you’ve never visited.
You’re the type who slumps way down in the theatre,
feigning sleep during her monologue
because it is ‘feminist and shit’, and yet
she’ll be the only one on your mind
when you reach down tonight.
Oh, how do I know this? 
Why, because you always come back for more.
For more of my letters, pretty letters,
your coeliac stomach cannot wait to reject.

(Kristiana Reed)

You stab me with a misplaced comma’s edge,
expect me to bleed ink, but I blossom gold
leaf, like pages of a holy tome, and your
lines of prose crackle in my burning gale.
I am more word than woman, you see
and I am truth, your haunting just ghost
of all those who said no, who pushed me
down stairs of paragraphs, but I got grit,
I grew wings of paper, from you I fly.

(Allie Nelson)

hey you there –
with the pursed lips
and furrowed brow
click-clacking
your studied
critical analysis
of these driblets
of my life’s blood.
you must be fucking new here
if you mistake
the penning
of my soul
upon the page
as a request
for literary critique.
this, here
is the juice of my carotid
scrawled with fingertips
as I apply
tourniquet and poultice.
your worded attempts
to package my agony
into neat and tidy
boxes
are ill-advised salt flakes
poured into my wounds.

(Aurora Phoenix)

Soft upon the scene
He entered
Mushy odorless rambling
Entailed:
“Darling, how are you faring?
Your words are dancing in my soul
Your star shines upon my dreams.”
going after me
Feeling my every words’ step
With a presumptuous club
White and black penned music
That clawed silence to my ears:
“You are the brightest…
Fade away, you heartless beast!”

(Iulia Halatz)

i picked up my pen and out came all of me.
it poured and poured,
filling space with untrained words and anarchy,
sharpened love, feelings bent,
a keenness breathed without judgement,
ink balled with mercy
into something of me that might speak in truth.
but you sat and held your cup,
and watched it spill.
you put it in your cabinet
with a yellow note: ‘could do better.’
i would those curling lips
might taste the poison in the teacup
between your eyes;
that is where the horror really lies.

(Lois E. Linkens)

You must be new here, because tact and common decency seem lost on you. You see, it is not okay to call a woman by any other name than the one she has given — so don’t call me Baby and I won’t call you Tiny. It is not okay to insert yourself in my life and assume I need your sage advice — if I want to know, I will ask. Do not presume to know what I am thinking, or what my heart is trying to say — because you can be damn sure that if I wrote the words, I meant each and every one of them. I’m not perfect, and I never claimed to be, but I don’t need a lecture on semantics or grammar — I’ve had more than enough schooling and experience to know my own mind. But, if you really are new here, remember this one simple rule: if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.
(Sarah Doughty)

You enter my house and
manhandle my verse. You
wonder why my
heart spurts crimson with
every heavy beat—
pressure me for information.
Why so mocking?
Why so angry?
Why the foul language? Bitch,
you must be fucking new here
if you expect an
explanation.
Cos I don’t answer stupid
questions.
Grow a brain, and
get a clue.

(Kindra M. Austin)

Shining Through — Sarah Doughty

“I was made to rise above your labels.
Because like the sun, I was always
meant to shine through the dark.”

Savages. That’s what I call them. The ones that believe they can do anything and no one can stop them. The ones that think they have power. They are the ones that cause havoc. They try to break us, just for the pleasure of knowing they can.

But we are too strong for that. We were made to rise above them. Because the sun needs a place to shine through their darkness.

Maybe that’s why, deep down, they fear us. Maybe, that’s why they want to dominate us.

Maybe, that’s why they like to put labels on us. To make them feel superior.

Let them. We know where the power really is. And they can never take it from us.

We are made of survival.

© Sarah Doughty

Maybe that’s why
they label us as witches.


[Sarah Doughty is the tingling wonder-voice behind Heartstring Eulogies. She’s also the author of The Silence Between Moonbeams, her poetry chapbook, and the acclaimed novels and novellas of the Earthen Witch Universe. Good news, they’re all offered for free, right here! To learn more about how awesome Sarah is, check out her website, stalk her on Instagram, and add her on Goodreads.]

Little Death / Playground — Sarah Doughty

“One day, I will overcome you
and all you put me through.”

Every night, I died a little inside.
It was a reward, you said,
for being a good little girl.
Though you forced it,
it was never sweet like you said.
Those little pieces of me
are lost and all that remains
is demon infested darkness.

And I know my place. My soul lives among the shadows, dances with the moon, and twinkles with the stars in the night sky. This, where my demons live and thrive, is my prison. This, my world of darkness, is my salvation. This, where anything is possible, is my redemption. This is my playground.

One day, I will overcome you
and all you put me through.

© Sarah Doughty

Written in response to the
month-long Sexual Exploitation series
on Domestic Violence.
This week’s subject is rape.


[Sarah Doughty is the tingling wonder-voice behind Heartstring Eulogies. She’s also the author of The Silence Between Moonbeams, her poetry chapbook, and the acclaimed novels and novellas of the Earthen Witch Universe. Good news, they’re all offered for free, right here! To learn more about how awesome Sarah is, check out her website, stalk her on Instagram, and add her on Goodreads.]

Distant Memory — Sarah Doughty

“One day, this will become
a distant memory.
Just like me.”

I’ve kept myself in the darkness for far too long. Too afraid to see the marks left behind on my skin. The scars that have healed over, and fresh ones, still red and angry, that cover them. The bruises that never seem to fade. Though I know, with every passing day, pieces of me are lost. I still can’t bring myself to try to save myself. What would be the point? I’ve been down this road before — and nothing can crush your dreams better than lost hope.

My spirit has broken. My sense of self has been gone so long, I don’t know who I am anymore. All this, from a man that enjoyed his cigarettes and beer a little too much. A man that enjoyed my youth and my inability to fight back. A man that wanted to puff up his chest and feel like his fists kept him in power.

Now, I don’t cower. I don’t fight. I submit. I thought, maybe, if I was lucky, he’d lose interest, but it just made him try that much harder to make me cry out in pain. So, you see, there’s no room in my life for hope. And in these moments, when I’m reduced to tears, grieving all that has been lost, I’m reminded that one day, this too will become a distant memory.

Just like me.

© Sarah Doughty

Nothing can crush your dreams
better than lost hope.
Don’t ever let it go.

Written in response to the month-long Sexual Exploitation series on Domestic Violence.


[Sarah Doughty is the tingling wonder-voice behind Heartstring Eulogies. She’s also the author of The Silence Between Moonbeams, her poetry chapbook, and the acclaimed novels and novellas of the Earthen Witch Universe. Good news, they’re all offered for free, right here! To learn more about how awesome Sarah is, check out her website, stalk her on Instagram, and add her on Goodreads.]

Captive Freckles – Sarah Doughty and Aurora Phoenix

Captive Freckles

 

There was something about the way her freckled cheeks turned red that caught my attention. I wondered what made her blush. If it was something I said, or something that crossed her mind. It made the green of her eyes brighten like dew tickling grass on a warm summer morning.

suffused with roses
her emerald gaze
drew inward
coppery lashes lowered
demure veils
obscuring the windows
into her inner fracas.
her cheeks scrawl a chapter
unabridged
in a language
I studied once –
long since forgot.
I scrabble
the freckled pattern –
cues to the lost tongue.

Forged of Flame: A Shield Maiden Battle Song

The latest collaborative piece from Blood Into Ink’s Shield Maidens

Blood Into Ink

valkyrie(Kindra M. Austin)

The fire that whelms me does   

not consume; for it is mine

own—

I do control inferno,

a blood-borne lust to conquer

pain—

Here you come with buckets of water,

and a head distended with ego

convinced I’m a woman in distress

The fire that whelms me does

not consume; for it is mine

own—

my defense mechanism,

desire to live forged in

flame—

Shield Maiden calls for no goddamned man 

(Aurora Phoenix)

these flames that fence me

char me not

they are the hungering tongues

of my animus

I spark them

cerise

feeding them on

the oxygen of my outrage

when the world crushes

upon me

you hasten forward

all suited up

toting your much touted hose

as if your stream

could touch these flames

these flames that fence me

char me not

they are the hungering tongues

of my animus

I fan them

as…

View original post 313 more words

Sorcery — Sarah Doughty

fire-2837843_960_720

“Survival runs in our blood.”

We are
the descendants
of people
too cunning
to die in a pyre.
They knew
how to survive.
And their magic
flows through
our veins.

This can be taken literally or figuratively. During the witch hunt craze of the seventeenth century, many people were wrongly abused of witchcraft and ended up dying in a fire or from illness while waiting execution. Most of these people were widows, servants, anyone that could have a grudge against them from others, and the hysteria grew until the wives of some of the most respected men began to receive accusations. I would think that anyone actually practicing witchcraft those days would have been too smart to get caught. After all, the image of a witch that comes to mind for many people is a strong woman. On the other hand, metaphorically, women have been degraded since the beginning of time, and only recently are women coming close to be seen as equals to men. All throughout history, women have stood against opposition with their heads held high. Would that image not seem pretty close to that of a perceived witch? For women, our ancestors were strong, and so are we, even when we feel like we are anything but.

© Sarah Doughty


[Sarah Doughty is the tingling wonder-voice behind Heartstring Eulogies. She’s also the author of The Silence Between Moonbeams, her poetry chapbook, and the acclaimed novels and novellas of the Earthen Witch Universe. Good news, they’re all offered for free, right here! To learn more about how awesome Sarah is, check out her website, stalk her on Instagram, and add her on Goodreads.]