I Hate Zayn Malik jk

slam poetry

"Guys.." I stand in front of Heather Harry James Crysantha and whoever tf lives here.

"What em?" ant says as he grabs my boobies.

"I love poetry.." I say all embarrassed and shit.

"I do too!" Corpanga says and shut .

"Want to go to this Slam poetry will it's gonna b here since we on this island and shit it's gonna b here in an hour." I say and they all nod into it.

"Okay so brb make sure u write ur poem and shitz" We all say at the same time

1 hour later

"Who first nigga bitch?" Harry says and everyone points to Crysantha.

"Oh! she says cuz she didn't even do her book share today tf.

"Okay here's my slam shit...

Dude on Twitter says:
'I was having sex with my girlfriend when she started her period. I dumped that bitch immediately'
Dear Nameless Dummy on Twitter
You're the reason my daughter cried funeral tears when she started her period,
The sudden grief all young girls feel after the matriculation from childhood
And the induction into a reality that they're gonna have to negotiate you and your disdain for what a woman's body can do
Herein begins an anatomy lesson infused with feminist politics because I hate you:
There is a thing... Called a uterus...
It sheds itself every twenty-eight days or so-
Or in my case every twenty-three days, I've always been a rule-breaker
That's the anatomy part,
I digress.
The feminist politics part
Is that women know how to let things go,
How to let a dying thing leave the body,
How to become new
How to regenerate
How to wax and wane, not unlike the moon and tides-
Both of which influence how you behave,
I digress.
Women have vaginas that can speak to each other,
By this I mean
When we're with our friends, our sisters, our mothers
Our menstrual cycles will actually sync the fuck up.
My own cervix is mad influential,
Everybody I love knows how to bleed with me,
Hold onto that, there's a metaphor in it.
But when your mother carried you
The ocean in her belly is what made you buoyant, made you possible
You had it under your tongue when you burst through her skin,
Wet and panting from the heat of her body;
The body whose machinery you now mock on social media,
That body wrapped you in everything that was miraculous about it
And sung you lullabies laced in platelets-
Without which you wouldn't have no Twitter account at all, motherfucker
I digress.
See it's possible that we know the world better because of the blood that visits some of us.
It interrupts our favourite white skirts
And shows at dinner parties unannounced
Blood will do that, period.
It will come when you are not prepared for it,
Blood does that, period.
Blood is the biggest siren and we understand that blood misbehaves,
It does not wait for a hand signal
Or a welcome sign above the door.
And when you deal in blood over and over again like we do,
When it keeps returning to you
Well, that makes you a warrior
And while all good generals know not to discuss battle plans with the enemy
Let me say this to you, Dummy on Twitter:
If there's any balance in the universe at all
You're gonna be blessed with daughters.
'Blessed'. Etymologically 'blessed' means 'to make bleed',
See, now it's a lesson in linguistics.
In other words: blood speaks
That's the message, stay with me
See your daughters're gonna teach you what all men must one day come to know,
That women, made of moonlight, magic, and macabre
Will make you know the blood.
We're gonna get it all over the sheets and car seats
We're gonna do that
We're gonna introduce you to our insides, period.
And if you are as unprepared as we sometimes are
It'll get all over you and leave a forever stain.
So to my daughter,
Should any fool mishandle the wild geography of your body,
How it rides a red-running current
Like any good wolf or witch just bleed, Boo.
Give that blood a biblical name
Something of stone and mortar,
Name it after Eve's first rebellion in that garden
Name it after the last little girl to have her genitals mutilated in Kinshasa-
That was this morning.
Give it as many syllables as there are unreported rape cases,
Name the blood something holy,
Something mighty
Something unlanguageable
Something in hieroglyphs
Something that sounds like the end of the world.
Name it for the roar between your legs and the women who will not be nameless,
Hear, just bleed anyhow
Spill your impossible scripture all over the good furniture
Bleed and bleed and bleed
On everything he loves, period. "