candle lit to Oya
as I sit and ponder
have i really been living with so toxic gas lighting people.
for so long?
and clueless.
only now it is fazing me.
I was just confused as to what just happened.
what is happening.
thinking people just had off, odd, illogical thinking processes.
not realizing it was denial,
mind games, manipulations.
and that is how people are acculturated here.
guided and taught into the society/ so it becomes normal.?
and i have no where to turn
to process
when the therapist mentions, "for your much talking" .
perhaps it is an indicator that i exceed her abilities too.
so much of so many are frauds
a yellow whitish candle burning in a tin. calling Sango/Chango/ Oya. SangOya.
and what is it about a fly that comes to your knee and you swat it right after lighting that candle?
Good Morning
-//
the ties that bind
the strings that addle
the lines that cross a lineage
dead thread of tattered fabrics
hereditary toxicity
female curses
and another phrase that escapes me
is bipolar an aspect of old age mental decline?
or a distinctive character of the caribbean colonial subject?
She was sixty three or thereabout
when behaviors of sabotage, undermining,
schemes, manipulations
snide swipes long before that
even at her sixty one
and all i had was stun.
like being tased
only now I am seeing it
and i still dont have the name for it
do you?
i mean the very necessity of multiple identities
to escape capture, notice and focus of an enemy
the multiple stories necessary to maintain survival
when in our long line and multiple threadstrings
of ancestry,
historic memory,
post slavery
trauma
did we ever have the chance to offload
that cargo
on land
after the hundreds of years
post the middle passage?
when the onslaught of war never ended
be it at the hands of the plantation owner
the overseer
the land manager
your mother
the absent father
the policeman father
the years of us preying on each other
the way that chickens cramped in long airless tunnels
are raised for market in mass production systems:
no air, no light, no exercise
no environment other than the listless eyes
of the other, the million other hens and cocks
enclosed and enslaved on the same ride to the slaughter
pick at each others' feathers
until they are all gone
they pick then at the exposed unprotected skin
until sores and death comes slowly
tortured
the ones to shield you actually cannibalize you
it is 2017
why in a family of women
and i fifty two
now realizing these are the beasts bred here
i escaped one damaged toxic father and silent mother
now dead for her same incapacity to be better
to return to my place of birth and relive again
same life
a different gayelle \
a different home of the same dysfunction
persons who are not'
but mere fragments, shards and crumbles
easily triggered
despite all the appearances
and their are endless and many'
to intend on difference, betterments, elevations and pretenses
to class, society, schools and all manner of other lies
but they remain the people who will eat cookies off of a tea cup saucer
or tell a meticulously clean person they have a problem, ocd plenty.
not recognizing that it is the slop, the garbage, the low bottoms
where all the catchments fo waste flowed that they once lived
one height of freedom now would be cleanliness
who would know to tell the ignorant
who would believe so many women
would be triggered by another
female
who would she be>
younger
daughter
niece
how is she a threat
what egungun
that instill fears in so many
that their only option is to try and destroy her
but all she does is keep writing the record
it was a life coach female smith
who once told me the stories I told her
were very characteristic of caribbean women
sick and toxic
it was a muslim woman
at the corner of my street
who saw me wandering and walking
belly empty looking for food to eat
having been so denied
by the older women who saw me born to their sister
she the middle, they: one younger, one older
they who i lived with for seven years
no food for me in the house
on the land
belonging to the grandfather
who made a way
and promise for me.
at birth
that muslim woman asked me
'oh you do not know: aunts are the bane and evil of young women"
she seemed to intimate strong jealousy
i was stunned.
i lived so long
fifty? fortynine years?
and never heard such a thing.
never read it in a novel
even now, after that is all over
i will google again
if it be so, many other cultures
must have recorded the pain, tears and shock
of women of the same mitochondria
----- end part one-------
as I sit and ponder
have i really been living with so toxic gas lighting people.
for so long?
and clueless.
only now it is fazing me.
I was just confused as to what just happened.
what is happening.
thinking people just had off, odd, illogical thinking processes.
not realizing it was denial,
mind games, manipulations.
and that is how people are acculturated here.
guided and taught into the society/ so it becomes normal.?
and i have no where to turn
to process
when the therapist mentions, "for your much talking" .
perhaps it is an indicator that i exceed her abilities too.
so much of so many are frauds
a yellow whitish candle burning in a tin. calling Sango/Chango/ Oya. SangOya.
and what is it about a fly that comes to your knee and you swat it right after lighting that candle?
Good Morning
-//
the ties that bind
the strings that addle
the lines that cross a lineage
dead thread of tattered fabrics
hereditary toxicity
female curses
and another phrase that escapes me
is bipolar an aspect of old age mental decline?
or a distinctive character of the caribbean colonial subject?
She was sixty three or thereabout
when behaviors of sabotage, undermining,
schemes, manipulations
snide swipes long before that
even at her sixty one
and all i had was stun.
like being tased
only now I am seeing it
and i still dont have the name for it
do you?
i mean the very necessity of multiple identities
to escape capture, notice and focus of an enemy
the multiple stories necessary to maintain survival
when in our long line and multiple threadstrings
of ancestry,
historic memory,
post slavery
trauma
did we ever have the chance to offload
that cargo
on land
after the hundreds of years
post the middle passage?
when the onslaught of war never ended
be it at the hands of the plantation owner
the overseer
the land manager
your mother
the absent father
the policeman father
the years of us preying on each other
the way that chickens cramped in long airless tunnels
are raised for market in mass production systems:
no air, no light, no exercise
no environment other than the listless eyes
of the other, the million other hens and cocks
enclosed and enslaved on the same ride to the slaughter
pick at each others' feathers
until they are all gone
they pick then at the exposed unprotected skin
until sores and death comes slowly
tortured
the ones to shield you actually cannibalize you
it is 2017
why in a family of women
and i fifty two
now realizing these are the beasts bred here
i escaped one damaged toxic father and silent mother
now dead for her same incapacity to be better
to return to my place of birth and relive again
same life
a different gayelle \
a different home of the same dysfunction
persons who are not'
but mere fragments, shards and crumbles
easily triggered
despite all the appearances
and their are endless and many'
to intend on difference, betterments, elevations and pretenses
to class, society, schools and all manner of other lies
but they remain the people who will eat cookies off of a tea cup saucer
or tell a meticulously clean person they have a problem, ocd plenty.
not recognizing that it is the slop, the garbage, the low bottoms
where all the catchments fo waste flowed that they once lived
one height of freedom now would be cleanliness
who would know to tell the ignorant
who would believe so many women
would be triggered by another
female
who would she be>
younger
daughter
niece
how is she a threat
what egungun
that instill fears in so many
that their only option is to try and destroy her
but all she does is keep writing the record
it was a life coach female smith
who once told me the stories I told her
were very characteristic of caribbean women
sick and toxic
it was a muslim woman
at the corner of my street
who saw me wandering and walking
belly empty looking for food to eat
having been so denied
by the older women who saw me born to their sister
she the middle, they: one younger, one older
they who i lived with for seven years
no food for me in the house
on the land
belonging to the grandfather
who made a way
and promise for me.
at birth
that muslim woman asked me
'oh you do not know: aunts are the bane and evil of young women"
she seemed to intimate strong jealousy
i was stunned.
i lived so long
fifty? fortynine years?
and never heard such a thing.
never read it in a novel
even now, after that is all over
i will google again
if it be so, many other cultures
must have recorded the pain, tears and shock
of women of the same mitochondria
----- end part one-------
