The Female Rage, Channelled Through Blackout Poetry.
For International Women’s Day this year we held a blackout poetry event in collaboration with Mental Health society. These are some of the creations made on the day!
Coffin shaped pink marble tubs in lily ponds,
For women-only.
Growing pure again
I felt pure and sweet as a new baby.
I swung in the middle of the dark room.
Pretended to be asleep.
Leave me in peace—
Bright would never end.
I didn’t know I’m stupid.
The idea of being alive
Must be the worst thing in the world.
The fake freshness,
Gray canyons,
Out of my mind for weeks
Left responsible, carrying
Something uncomfortable,
Hanging limp,
Happily nothing.
I was supposed to be the envy,
Want nothing.
I know what you fear.
I have been there.
Dissatisfaction?
Madness?
Echoing, echoing.
Poisons?
Like arsenic.
Scorched to the root,
Cruelly, being barren.
Her radiance scathes me. Or perhaps I have caught her.
I let her go.
Bad dreams cry
For something to love.
I am terrified
Of love—
My heart,
It will
Kill, kill, kill.
Felt safer.
The thought of dancing
Made me laugh.
“I’m not in the mood.”
Pretending,
It made me feel powerful and godlike.
I couldn’t see clearly,
Nobody paid any notice.
We, being perfect strangers—
For a minute I thought,
I won’t come unless I had to.
Standing upon
The constant edge of decision,
Passing dreams of choice,
Looking inward and outward,
Imprinted with fear.
We were never meant to survive.
Love will vanish,
Love will never return.
We are still afraid.
We were never meant to survive.
Ladies,
Lush.
How difficult is it to be
Eating pennies
Secretly.
A grand joke:
Love and passion,
Robbed and carried off.
I have no love.
Cruel.
A little time opposite us.
Now I am a woman,
Searching for her back.
Those of us who cannot love,
Those of us imprinted with fear.
We were never meant to survive.
We are afraid,
We are afraid,
We are afraid.
We are alone.
Love will never return.
When we speak,
Our words will not be heard,
Not welcomed.
It is better to remember,
We were never meant to survive.
