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BEHIND THE MASK EXIBITION- my experience

I suppose I, as a writer  can be ignorant and forget how empowering and therapeutic being able to write is and how  creative it  is. This is is something that every woman should be able to access. I saw the results of the works of creativity in every face at ‘Behind the mask’ exhibition this today.

 

The exhibition was led by a passionate presentation by the  highly charismatic Sharon Marsden from verd de gris

I spent most of my time in tears. All masks shed to connect with British white and British Muslim woman through the medium of   poetry, their personal words and singing.  Yes, what a strange bonding power it is to want to join in and sing with strangers.

All connected by our desire to be unburdened, it released even me from my cage. Today, I flew high and found my voice intermingled amongst a collective . I didn’t need to say a word. Someone already had and I identified completely.  I had a taste of the 12-week journey these highly courageous women have been through. It reminds me of my own journey in life as a woman. I’m not alone. We are not alone. As painful as some of these emotions were to witness and experience the exhibition left on a high – I was carried away with a powerful gust of optimism and newfound courage to carry on in my own journey in life.

All faiths, all ages, all complex woman with the desire to be free from pain and to be free to show their real face and not wait for the words of acceptance .  The message I took away is this:

This is me! take me or leave. I will not hide behind any more masks for you or anyone.

Here is my crane symbol to remind me that I too can be that bird that ‘flies to the heavens’

The crane is a popular symbol in Asian culture, and the practice of folding paper cranes for good fortune, healing, happiness, and success was popularized by Sadako Sasaki, a young victim of the radiation from the Hiroshima disaster. Chains of paper cranes, often numbering a thousand in total, are given as offerings at temples and shrines. The crane is also perceived as a bird capable of flying to the very heavens, and is said to have borne spirits of the deceased there upon its back. In ancient China, the crane was used as the symbol of highest-ranking officials.
Read more at http://www.beliefnet.com/Wellness/Environment/Galleries/A-Spiritual-Field-Guide-to-Birds.aspx?p=6#JvmBs22BfFs8PL8B.99

 

 

 

Caged Bird Excerpt

BY MAYA ANGELOU

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom.

 

Female empowerment is continuing well into 2016.    NEW RECRUITS NEEDED FOR THE NEXT BEHIND THE MASK COMING SOON!

 

I have also been moved to boldly upload my first video blog. What better inspiration than to speak with female empowerment.  Seven minutes long but no apologies for what comes from the heart.

 

 

 

 

GOAT pancake pie erm…

Pancakes share a growling affair
To boost the morale of the monster with
jowls

Still

hibernating
inside a despairing mind of an almost self redundant writer

groans unable to fit into an unremarkable, once favoured racy red garter.

This poem is quite silly
I could throw a goat in here and call him
Kill Billy…

Because he had a penchant for consuming plenty pancakes with half fat cream cheese

Sell them on the hillside,
he did.

Not far from
ole blighty

With a spring in his hooves,
a dapper smile,
a shimmy in his groove.

Singing through a mouthful of home made shove

This isn’t a poem!
These are words to be damned to the books of ,’oh, Crikey’!

Neighbour hoodie (nee) gentrify watch

TRUE WORDS:

There are no rainbows without rain.

RISE ABOVE THE SMALL MENTALITY.

These folk have not experienced my darkest hours nor walked in my shoes.
Jealousy is a heinous crime to a person’s soul because it doesn’t take into account what the other person has and has yet to go through in life.

RISE ABOVE THE HATE of those who will never know & if they do hear a whisper of truth have no clue.

Judgements have no place in my world for those who don’t have a clue.
They tried to hit me where it could have hurt not me but my family
Gentrify their neighbourhood watch
cos I fly without further a due
Confuciasism
Tashism
I am not who/what they think I am ..
Oh, wait.. they made my case to succeed stronger.
THANK YOU, to my foes
You have made my goal closer.
I see that now.
Energy dispersed
I find it replenished
Resurrected
I am not down
I rise
I rise

THANK YOU for fueling my desire to start afresh better now than when I thought I was due
to give life to a new beginning.

these are my words. Simple words yet… meaningful to the author.
ME,

Who knew.

 

Hope-2021

Here I stand

On a mountain 🗻 of solid gold

Praise be for the choices I’ve made.

The toxicity of my past ends with recriminations with my inner foe

Self-respect glimmers

Good riddance to the self-destruction of the days now old

A clean closet reveals a door ajar

Bestows

a journey of new beginnings

If I vow to lift the cloak of doubt

Find the courage to replace it with hope.

A night before Ebony

Ebony’s shadowed legs followed like bone ivory music notes.

Umbrellas at dawn

No longer will the vampires mourn when each and everyone’s turn

Becomes an endeavour

Becomes closer to a pawn of the bloodless, pastry Underworld.

Fangs serve no required love

Unless

For the hearts that break

fastly

Under the tombstones engraved with dear forlorn amours.

Vials and trials make for complicated aisles.

Stephen Hawking’s shadow couldn’t blacken the suns holy masquerade without a tentative backhanded smile.

Flatulent legs pass an accordion player drowning out the tears of the past crystal nachts denial.

The fish bone corset of his lover – bygone

Weaved into a weathered, once feathered basket to uphold her now skeletal dignity,

A patched-up virgin awoken

A red sealed cockerel

His scarlet fever only breaks

out at night.

Nothing makes sense.

Not the severed maimed gingerbread men

Nor the black pudding

Nor the books written after the King’s night well spent.

Those paltry pawns of Christmas past climbed up the stairs on a general’s stare.

A goose-step march without all the trimmings

Merely a one-armed procured letter bitten off a one-off affair.

The traitor of Ebony’s moonlight dalliance wasn’t in his devilish dance on his journey

It was in the faces of his pseudo, mutilated, unvaccinated bastard offspring

Of each adultress, he gazed upon with an unassuming leer.