The Woman Organique
and I have not been kind to all the women I have ever loved, then again I have never been
perfect, my fair share and More of mistakes...but to really ponder the woman is something else,
something suppressed, something like deity.
Woman is an individual creature
Most men cannot fathom...sex, cars, telephones, icecaps, and loose junk, men are breakable
when they speak of unbreakableness...but the woman has a holy side, a holy interior that
sometimes us men are not wise enough to navigate and store into our own brain compartments...
The Woman has a need, bigger than big Cock
more Precious than Heroin...
far more sublime than watching forest creatures
Woman has a Need to be Alone.
No Children, no racket, no motor pool, no car lane gossip, no ventilator, no essence...
Just
A Hot wet Solitude...
Not during the Night, but during the Day
Woman has need for Sunlight
for hope
for rays of sunshine shooting like damaged stars through Her Window
and into the bathtub
prefibly with the bathtub model w/ feet.
Woman, the organique orchid of our hostile and petulant dreams
she needs Alone Time....
To dip rich in a hot bath and become one with herself again
She does the neutering
She does the monthly tampon deposit
she does the baby bursting
she does the seeing of stars and feels the implant of a sort of Christ...
she does the hot flashes
the bloody sheets
the menstrual cycle
she does the chores
she does the kitchen
she does the outdoors
she does the menopause
she loses children
children that floated from her womb
like her heart being born all over again but on the outside of her ribs...
She loses life
she smells plants like a bee clings to honey
The Woman can Never be owned
She is a garden and a haunted Castle all at Once
God must have nearly gave up the ghost when they created Her
cause then again God is half male and half female
and mostly monkey and invisible something I couldn't speak for anymore
than a dragonfly can ponder my daydreams....
The Woman Organique
she is sometimes attainable
but constantly needs refuge
and she should have her space, her mercy, her
fresh refuge...
A Hot bath with Epsom salts, sea salts, ocean sands and oceanique fleurs
and a wild loose viola playing in the background to sooth her flurried mind....The Woman
Organique Dies a little bit everyday...her sons march away and her daughters fall apart like
ragdolls...and pills were never truly the answer....only a way to float over the waste ...
The Woman Organique needs hours to sit by sunlit windows and ponder the foreverness of it all...
to ponder the colours involved in the mystery of air particles laced throughout Sunrays...to polish
her beautiful skin no matter what colour it may be, with lotions laced by Harmony...
Without Woman, Man would be un fucked and fucked.
The cart before the horse....
You didn't drop out of the sky man, you dropped out from your mother's womb
out of her garden sweet ethereal vagina, you unforgiving meat dirt spirit boy!
Somebody caught your breath as you vibrated helpless as a pebble falling from the roof
of a skyscraper with no direction or course... .
Let her have her hours
let her have her earned Leave
let her have her misty morning moments
and let her have her say and stay...
The Woman Organique
Lovely in every solemn way...
Hot bath
Fresh Window
perpendicular stars
wanderlust
her cold hand Holy on your forehead
count yourself lucky
bards have fallen
by her Sword
Woman is Holy
say it again,
Woman is Holy
know your fucking place...
young man.