The "Whore" WordI am a woman.... and if I get out of line, you call me a whore!
And if I have a good time, you call me a whore!
And if I speak my mind- you call me a whore!
You throw the word at me when I stand on my own
You use the word often to hold me down.
You ever remind me that whores are the worst-
the outcasts, pariahs, without any worth.
"You're just a whore!" you repeat like a mantra-
Like a shot of cold water to dampen my joy.
'You're just a whore- so what do you know?
and what do I care of whatever you think!"
"You're a whore," is a dagger you drive through my heart
as you pound into my psyche that name..
You equate everything that I ever thought good- with that word
which you spit out like venom- to show me how awful I am.
But I ask you, please tell me, just what is a whore?
A whore says what she thinks and she thinks for herself...
She's independent and feisty- so what? is there more?
Why does it frighten you so to know I've a mind of my own
and don't need your permission to live or to love or to be?
And what if I tell you
I don't care anymore if you call me a whore...
What will you call me now?
©Norma Jean Almodovar 1996Detroit Annie, HitchhikingHer words pour out as if her throat were a broken
artery and her mind were cut-glass, carelessly handled.
You imagine her in a huge velvet hat with great
dangling black feathers,
but she shaves her head instead
and goes for three-day midnight walks.
Sometimes she goes down to the dock and dances
off the end of it, simply to prove her belief
that people who cannot walk on water
are phonies, or dead.
When she is cruel, she is very, very
cool and when she is kind she is lavish.
Fisherman think perhaps she's a fish, but they're all
fools. She figured out that the only way
to keep from being frozen was to
stay in motion, and long ago converted
most of her flesh into liquid. Now when she
smells danger, she spills herself all over,
like gasoline, and lights it.
She leaves the taste of salt and iron
under your tongue, but you dont mind
The common woman is as common
as the reddest wine
© by Judy Grahn