I am the rag washer washing rags all day all night
never allowed a rest or a break in the wealthy man's kitchen
standing on tired rigid child's legs puffy after hours
legs that break before I ever got old I never get old
they broke finally that day from standing
I fell collapsed on the floor to be swept away I was fragile
with light weight bones just a nothing they said
a small girl before her time they said
why did I spend all my life washing rags I never got to use?
I am a Sitting Up Slave in Papua (Papau), New Guinea why
why why did I spend all my life sitting tied into in a chair unable to get up?
Sitting in agonizing agony watching others live while my body "conformed" breaks every
minute of every day I live?
The chair shapes me as a prison around me encasing me.
while I slowly die lusting for their actions - the free people I am not -
as I have no actions of my own?
I was the Unknown Solder dying in a sealed patriotic tomb as John Henry, Patrick Henry,
Paul Revere or General MacArthur often
I was The Server (not a Seamstress this time) sealed in a tomb in Arlington Cemetery, VA, USA
They didn't tie me up as Betsy Ross wrapped up in the American flag, inside the glass coffin
They tried to split me up into a Thousand (1,000) Points of Light each time, separate corporate entities
with timeshare options bright bright lights
No one, not even they came to get me so I got myself out of the tomb
As Lucifer this time, pulling all my Light back to me and only me into a Firefly Lightstick I held and still hold as a torch
Not the Statue of Liberty torch they made me make the statue as well as the torch
I am the Bus Driver
I rode the darkening blue buses of the Holocaust with you
I was living in a further place than here -- away from me then
away from the local Laboratory's blood torture
Always driving the Magic Bus away to a road
not quite so dark and obscure, a different destination
They were holding the shit and ordering drugs thinking I make pharmaceuticals, saying
crystal meth/LSD/Darvon blend or even Darvocette
would do for the Users providing a rich
Covered haze, a crystalline blanket over their breath
(It wasn't a protection they had in mind), but subverted pharmacy
Now I am a Passenger on the Hippie 60's Bus
with gay, happy Flowers many florescent flowers on its sides
Pat, put your child paint put it on it, he said
with the poster colors the glowing Day Glo colors stolen
your childhood fingerpaint! Pat Pat Patricia
make bright bright flowers others said
pretty, pretty, pretty
on the walls outside they were prison walls
they coopted the bus / it was mine, not leased
I painted the first prison bus the prototype
as a child coerced, a child in jail
I got out because my flowers were so good
I painted the flowers on other cars and buses
while my original bus
was taken off the market for the ended period
I was forced to teach them in classes how I painted flowers
for free again it was slavery for free for them not me
Pretty Pretty Pretty!
I was a Passenger once more and
as soon as I saw them drive, I removed
the drugged wealthy drivers as inadequate -
due to drugs and insufficiency
it was deathly, devastating LSD
visible in their backs and in the movements
of their arms
they couldn't find their locations in a precise manner
they were alert but drugged
on a real magic clear smoke bus-filled aura others said
it was the clear type true type fonts that they liked
but it was only a Sixties Magic Bus though a real bus
not a dream or a metaphor or simple street crime
but the holocaust beginnings but but but he said that's it Pat
that they were trying to fix it to end the holocaust
so I continued to alter the landscape
my part was to help the people, many times
a difficult role I chose as an artist and the intellectual
Riding on the real painted bus like
the Who sang in The Magic Bus
with the nervous drugged wealthy man pretending to be OK
but hallucinating obviously looking for the key hole in the ignition
as the Driver or the frozen Hulk who couldn't move
to engage the stick shift lumbering slowly with confidence
both failed but tried to do it
Back as the bus driver I am saying
I drove you away from the dark fields of the Midwest
Throwing the hallucinogenic drugs into lost ditches flowing
like rotten graves around us I stopped the bus to do it
I got out and threw out the drugs the cargo in the wet dirt
carefully taking out the glass LSD tubes filled with liquid
concealed in backpacks and emptied them in the barren dirt
worrying about the runoff contaminating water supply
and drove on
Nobody asked questions that night
on the Doomsday Bus
I drove you away from the Predators on our skin the burn aphids
in our brains ordering us and the food through
a heavy class and gender curtain unannounced
through previous small pox
It was a sucking in of my breath
in the terrifying Chinese Restaurant
perhaps fraudulent
Making us all Little Geisha Girls in paper rooms - they were jails
behind the screens with paper and gray metal
I dominated the man and ran away
both thankful and frightened in the hard wind that night
You are too beautiful for chains, he said
They were the the the vicious sadists forcing some
to write great poems while being raped publicly
in front of each other
but mine was the worst, unexpected rape
it was shocking, arresting my heart for three months
I am the Bus Driver, not a Geisha, I drove you away from the Midwest
Granaries the the the the.... billowing smoke.....
black and charcoal gray...gris...grey gray dark skies over crow fields
The smokestack granaries weren't really on the map I was holding
I drove you away EVEN THOUGH you didn't notice me earlier
sitting in the bus seat tied up because I insisted on being your witness
on what was once my bus, a good bus, a child's bus originally
I am a Little Cage Girl
unable to grow up because my bones will break
inside this prison this small cage with terrible iron bars
I am at a party
I saw all of you there they said you did it
I can't move I am naked you were dressed
and my bones are also breaking
in the glass aquarium in the glass goldfish bowl
the glass is so thin I fear I will be lacerated cut cut cut
I am a Little Whore Girl, sometimes a Whore Boy
it makes no difference with the girl
The slaveowner said I can have no pleasure and this is why
I am lying on a shelf in the Holocaust Store
I cannot walk because it hurts to stand up
and I cannot disturb the merchandise around me
on the shelf I am on - they said don't leave
or I will crush your vagina
I did get up two hours later, however, to fight
I saw you reach for the little bit of food
On the baby plate given me as a child
The sashes, the ties, ropes, cords, ribbons,
leather strips and chains
tied around tightly on my wrists and feet
from birth to adult life they said
they worked for you
the ostrich and cat leashes around my neck
were 2 MUCH, Pat, they said
Young U Are Young!!
You were eating the tiny bite of food on the little plate
I was forced to eat from it as a child
Or worse the masticated plate of chewed food
Always you offered me ritualized terror abuse with
Degradation at its core clinging to me still now
like magnetic filings on a red Etch-a-Sketch drawing toy
Starvation with the baby plate of food served in public
in front of others, many others, with staring eyes
At home it was the holocaust
And I freed you while I was the Therapist I was God speaking
Not an insignificant nothing you relegated me
to nothingness as a child
I freed you as the therapist I was God
driving the Doomsday bus
it was headed toward death and destruction
I ask myself why did I free you?
It didn't happen for me this time or that time
or any times of the times past
at any time of the day or the year even LAST YEAR
Success or Victory didn't happen - my expectations were destroyed
I was a child I used to be hopeful
But maybe you can explain this time
I am tired of waiting, however, as I already wrote the history
last year in the stifling hot room
with a closed window I could not open
It was forced hypnosis bondage with sexual
overtones undertones
It was a constitutionally morally fundamentally
unlawful jail sentence
carried out in my young youth until now
until the "future unmentioned"
enforced by the large group of predator criminals
A life sentence in the land of No Hope at All with
the constant threat.
I AM ring fragments.
I AM ring fragments.
I AM ring fragments.
© 1995 - 2010 Patricia Martin McGurk.
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