Wednesday, January 22, 2014

He said...

He said my beauty was all in my hair. Long flowing locks, he'd leave me if I lost.
I shaved it all off and found a girlfriend. Fuck you.
He said my bare head brought out my eyes, the sexy fullness of my lips.

He said girls don't play guitar.
I taught myself on the guitar he gave me, and though he didn't remember saying it, and though it was a joke... These are the things that cut a woman down...

He said I couldn't play because I was a girl. Couldn't be Han Solo or Luke. I could be an Ewok though... Ugly little thing. Cute little thing covered in fur that can't even talk.

He said " Girls don't play baseball." I caught the ball that got him out on first and then tagged his stealing teammate in a double play all by my little female self.

He said that he loved me and not the best friend that I adored... In that mistake I lost her. Watched her walk away with his devious hand in hers.

He said he wanted to date me because I had big boobs. He said he'd never date me because my butt was too big. He said I was so tight but I couldn't jack off a squirrel. He said I just laid there like I was dead.
I was 16.
I was scared.
He said he dreamt that I had died... He dreamt of me.
But I didn't have the self worth to take that for what it was...

He said his truck was more important that my heart or my orgasm. He said my brother's girlfriend was more worthy of his time. He said he'd call. He said the only reason any man would speak to me was because they wanted to fuck me. He said I was hot covered in blood. He said I was fucking every man I said hello to. Even the greasiest, slimiest, short, old, balding, beer bellied, salesmen. He said I was fat. He said I had a mustache. He said I was dirty. He said he "Had me" when I was still a virgin and didn't even know his name.

He called me a crack whore, though the title belonged to him, told me I was crazy. How crazy that I almost believed his lies when he called me a liar.

He said my no really meant yes.
He said I wanted him...

He said to cry was girlish. To show feelings is to be weak... To be a "pussy" is to be weak.
He said my brothers could do it better, by virtue of the penis between their legs.
He said..
He said...

I said, I hate that my vagina makes me worthless.

He said he loved my face...
My poise and goodwill, my blue hair.

He said I'd be the first lady President, play in the major leagues.

He called me sweetheart in his Lakota tongue. He said I was beautiful, special, I was quite the catch wasn't I? He said I am the smartest person he knows, gifted with words. He said I was the coolest human he'd met. He said I was brave, admirable.

He said my beauty was so much more that the pile of flesh before him when I sat sickest in my ugliness. He said my life was a miracle and he was amazed by my strength. Sang with the voice of an angel when I sang my song... an angel, with a demon standing beside me.
He said I'd make an amazing girlfriend... And though he barely knew me it made my heart sing.

He says he loves me. He looks at me with eyes full of wonder sometimes. He calls me the sweetest name I've ever heard: Mama.

He said my words, my thoughts, my opinions had value. He said he appreciated me. He called me a fierce mama bear. He said I am enough. I am loveable, calm, mysterious and enchanting.
He said my words reminded him to cry... And HIS words made me cry.

And though I am thankful for all the he's who have loved this she.

I say, one of these days my self worth will not be defined by what he said.

Kalee Featherwise Prue

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Sunday, January 5, 2014


I live in an Alien Nation

surrounded everyday by miles of steel and windshield

mazes of glazed eyed faces

when I dare to venture from behind my castle walls

I live in an alien nation

where I have to sing loudly, have to speak loudly or be drowned

by the deafening silence, the roar of white noise

I live in a nation where my child can be taken at the drop of a dime

where doing right by my son is a crime

where teaching the truth about this paradigm

is a potential life sentence

where child abuse is a refusal to poison his blood...

where normalcy is corrupted genes, and flashing screens, and gory scenes

where we're trained to sleep but never to dream

taught to listen but not to hear

not to fight, but embrace our fear

told to look but not to see

the curtained men behind TV...

and the lies, all the lies of the blood, white and blue

are sang out as gospel, while condemned whisper truth.


where rights are recognized and you are a free being,

so long as I AGREE with your preference, your perspective

all subjectives must align with Government approved objectives

in order to be allowed to apply

to sit in an office

to get on a list

to wait for your turn

to exercise your freedoms.

in the home where the BRAVE RAVE about the land of the free.

I live in an alien world where the rain that falls upon my roof

must be paid for with tithings

of bloodied bills and silver chips

before I let it cross my lips...

and quench the thirst for God knows what

where raped and battered all are sluts

where LOVE is damned on hateful signs

is it any wonder? the crumbling of times...

In this alien nation, this glittering town

where buildings are blown up then blamed on the brown

while the flock doesn't notice that murderous clown...

AND now Jesus has COME!

but he's still dropping bombs...

but his crimes are forgiven because of his skin

because every thing's twisted and virtue is sin.

where aging is a terror

and death is a failure

despite the pain or the shape that we're in.

In this alien nation this world I live in

can't anyone tell me where to begin

how do we fix up this mess that we're in?

but NO... I live in an alien nation...

I live IN alienation

where awkwardness conceals kindness

where insecurities leftover from last years dinner

obscure a heart two sizes too large.

My alien nation is tribeless

though full of love and a family clan heaped with beauty and good intentions

but stuck in the ruts and ditches of a long hard road

generations of blue collars, red necks, and white privilege

in the land of blue blood, mountains of green, and foundations of war machines.

I live in an alienation where confidence is bought, inherited, or peer reviewed.

In my closet are dozens of variations...

outfits of confidence I try on for size.

take off, hang back up for another day

or leave crumpled, crying in a heap on the floor in my closet.

In my closet I rent to own.

Spoken word, fumbled songs,

borrowed confidence I hope to someday own

Of the radiant woman I aspire to be...

one day when the fit is right.

I live in an ALIEN NATION

where the story in my open book is not received

made into a movie for TV,

but instead deceived

the heart on my sleeve

made into a sly and slick game of charades

a subtle parade of mockery

where vulnerabilities are exploited and heckled

as gross imperfections displayed by artists

who seek to hurt but claim to heal


in an alien nation full of broken children

struggling to place those missing pieces,

stuck in boxes,

crawling under tables

digging in bins in the back of our closets....

looking... searching... hunting

for those missing parts, those broken toys

broken girls... broken boys...

I live in an alien nation where color

where vibrancy and smiles conceal pain and very real scars

no judgement on who bears the heaviest burden

and no pity requested or even tolerated

just the acknowledgement of the presence of those scars

in hopes that they will be seen as open to healing

not scabs for the picking because....

after all,

I LIVE IN a scarred nation

a scared nation, a falling nation, a sleeping nation, a weeping nation.

A nation where some sing sweetly and some sing to a different tone

not deaf, but strum a different song, hum a different tune

A nation where words can maim

can cause great pain

to those who have both ears and tears,

in this nation of sharp tongues and jealous eyes.

In this nation of forests and trees,

birds and bees,

of sticks and stones and broken bones,

of war and blood, and kings on thrones

this alien nation that WE don't own

that's littered with oil, with greens, but not ferns

that's pushing and pulling and bending and breaking

with some who are giving but more who are taking

and talking not doing, and talking and FAKING

and I just can't stand it!

I struggle to stand, and I struggle to walk

and I doubt what I see, what I think, what you talk...

and I read and I plan

and I scream DAMN THE MAN!

and I give, talk, and beg, and I offer my hand...

but I can't say for sure, just with whom should I stand?

In this revolution

This conscious evolution.

-Kalee Prue

Dedicated with so much love and admiration to my family at the Gesundheit Institute, West Virginia