Four Poems

Dawn Jackson

CONTENT WARNING: ABUSE

Purity

Love . . . unconditional

Irresistible

My personal

Strength . . . self-belief

Hatred?

Not quite the category

Deception . . . unlady like

Independent

Sweetness . . . satisfaction

Compassion

Forevermore

Trustworthy . . . confession

Total aspect . . .

My respect

Deliverance

Peace of mind

Togetherness . . .

Me . . . myself . . .

And irresistible . . . I

An Old Enemy

Enemies of unkind principal

You didn’t have to look for me . . . but you searched . . .

I was the good girl, and still

You contemplated my next move

You slithered towards this way . . . "that-a-way"

. . . led me astray

From the goodness of motherhood,

The good in me who lied deep within.

The river of peaceful surroundings . . .

The song, life sang . . . ’til there was you . . .

One-sniff, two-sniff, three-sniff, four . . .

Curiosity fed me . . . pimp me, in my own home

Choked me down from stardom,

This choir girl had song . . .

"Tricks" of a treat have no rules

I once "blew the mic", after "blowin' them".

To the last runner-up, always in line

Unkind, then unkind . . . "hits" of rewind.

I spread, I bent . . . and then I spent

Enemies of venomous principal,

I did it all . . . now will you let me live?

How such sin could be created . . .

Who had a clue . . . ?

Damn! I had no idea . . .

Black Pearl

Thirty years of hurt climbed into my walls—

A cut out human doll trampled upon—spread eagle style,

Fallen angel—wings clipped…

Thirty years of hurt dangled it’s ugly head,

A strayed peacock with plucked feathers.

Who am I?

Thirty years of hollering and screaming, stopping deadened pain

Bitten lips—a sucked-up sponge of evil—

Talks of death traps set by mind torture.

Thirty years . . .

"I", a BLACK PEARL, stood waiting for freedom—

Teardrops rained on my unsheltered hands . . .

A scar so bright, twinkling in darkness—

I tried to catch my soul—wasn’t going to happen though . . .

NOT YESTERDAY, NOT ANY DAY – HAD TO:

Slow

Myself

Down

Down

Claw my way to answers and truth—HAD TO:

Slow Myself

Down

Rebuild strength and dignity . . .

Yesterday, running from myself

Was going too fast . . .

This day, found myself whole once more—

Faith and determination,

Alive in my realm of peace . . .

Butterfly Waterfall

Breathe into my "newborn" . . . life . . . 

 

Inhale nature’s heavenly blossom...caress me...taste me...exactly there . . .

Reciprocate and cradle the demands of my cry . . .

Within the moment, grip your hands upon the thickness of

My inner thigh . . . drown your sense of smell into the foundation of my silky-sweet . . .

Press firmly, spreading God’s creation wide, from East to West into the island of "Clit-Nation"

Which surrounds the goodness of my "Earth" . . . my "Juices" to heal, that lace and intertwine with the

   Curving and creasing of your craving tongue . . .

Caribbean in the melody of my dirty-wind . . .

        Hips to entice . . . to soothe you.

At your tongues discretion, explore and

   give to her "that name" worthy of praise the taste of me . . .

All you’ve ever dreamed of  . . . all you’ve ever imagined . . .

   Kiss and embrace the wings of my butterfly . . .

Upon your lips, quietly whisper song into the eye

   Of my confined island . . .

Smooth sail your intense,

                                                   Rock-solid heartbeat

                                                 into my rhythms current,

                                                    of unknown paradise.

    Slide gentle collisions of thrust unto the

           flows of my heavenly waterfall . . .

  Research my land of missing treasures and

                                  Rediscover the truths of sacredness

                                          I’ve kept secretly hidden within myself for you.

                            For every breath you take, the day shall come where you climb each mountain . . .

                      Tasting, devouring each peak, erupting into the flow of a soft lullaby

          The cries of my virgin that will be no more,

                    Nursed in the sanctuary of your erection;

                "Freedom" you promised me . . .

                  Let go and exhale your life into mine . . .

                 Eternally one with me.

Scans of Dawn's submitted materials

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Nat. Brut is a proud winner of a 2020 Whiting Literary Magazine Prize