Poem: Extraction – 09/08/20

I tell the man that he is tyrannical,
he can take his rubbish home with him tonight.
 
I tell the man he is delusional,
he won’t get anything from me this, nor any other night.
 
I tell the man he is dreaming,
how far does he expect to get with this attitude in life?
 
I tell the man I am magical,
I don’t need his nightly strife.
 
I fly away on brightened wings,
feathers soar,
no clippings,
there has never been an owner to determine how I move,
whether I can rise,
what I can do.
 
I am a winged woman in charge of my life,
I am a soaring phoenix who will pay no 
attention to a rude man’s fabricated strife,
because if that man had taken a knife to my edgings,
I promise you, darlings,
he would no longer be the one calling.
 
I tell myself that I am not ready-made,
I am uniquely here and now,
my journey to arrive here, though convoluted,
would shock and amaze,
I understand that while I rise and soar
I am impervious to the dangers that lurk in human form on the ground.
 
Fallen beings, so they’re called,
and devilish spirits, whose callous lives will unfold,
before my very eyes I spot them, in a group,
in their gloom,
and this is what I screech as I descend,
this is what I do.
 
Behold my substance!
I cry from afar,
behold my potent nature,
I’ve developed myself, I express with my shrieks and roars,
and when my heated wings of my blazing form
shift and shine and shine and move,
I wriggle in a manner that wholly flatters my form,
and their eyes, those sets of eyes are now enthralled,
transfixed, their gazes are proof.
 
What say you to a dance?
I offer one of the women then one man,
what say you to a challenge?
First – the woman – nods readily,
the other pales in comparison.
 
She attempts to move her body but she does so
clumsily, clunky, violently,
it wholly seems a joke,
I try to keep a straight face,
and encourage,
to extract some form of hope.
 
Now my turn,
I say,
as I shimmy, shimmy, flurry
my fiery form and wings either side,
each way,
 
I now engulf them all,
send their damned souls back to hell,
because if not,
they’d remain and likely harm somebody else.
 
I cannot have them on my conscience,
but their extraction is something which I must never tell,
their rightful banishment, little to no substance,
this sordid tale which shall never be revealed.

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay

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5 Comments

  1. First of all, I love the image. Super cool, sexy, strong. I remember before I knew myself, how much the words and behaviour of others affected me. It was only after really maturing that that tyrannical nature of others was beaten, that standing alone amid their storms felt peaceful. Even in the wrong relationships, to be able to be near bullet proof now courtesy of internal strength is great. It all comes with maturity, experience and right thinking where the devils we know and can be are tamed.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks. It was a nice surprise to discover a woman in phoenix form.

      I do realise people can be harsh persecutors with their beat-downs, if they are so inclined, but it is important to learn to be resilient and impervious to their mental or emotional attacks upon us. This is not to say we take the offensive position, but the defensive, and only when required. It is not enjoyable to be played at the hands of others, so if we are required to stand up for ourselves, we must do so wholeheartedly and with courage. To fight those who do not belong in our life because they are incorrect or meddlesome is a triumphant path indeed.

      Like

      1. True. I’ve deal with misandry a lot in my early days, I know all to well about not being manipulated by others. You are right in that is trimphant to not be the victim any longer. It took me many years to not be the victim of hateful persecution by others. Strangely, the last 3-4 years have been the only years I look back on and say were good.

        Like

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