Are You Fucking New Here?- A Weyward Sisters Collaboration

You dropped by today

dissected my verse

thoughtfully pointed out

all the ways I could

smooth out my edges

improve flow

to slide more gently past

your discerning eyes

you must be fucking new here

if you think

I was asking for it

not a fan of unsolicited advice

my “friend”

I like my truth

raw

bloody

with a hint of lemon for acidity

that stings going down

(Christine Ray)

Oh, hello,

I didn’t see you there

although I can already tell you like to stare,

as if it is your obligation

to females everywhere.

And everywhere you seem to be.

You’re the type who lingers in keyboards,

assaulting our letters

with ones you would never dare to speak.

You’re the type who visits galleries just to sigh,

point out the vulvas in the petals

and tut at a landscape you’ve never visited.

You’re the type who slumps way down in the theatre,

feigning sleep during her monologue

because it is ‘feminist and shit’, and yet

she’ll be the only one on your mind

when you reach down tonight.

Oh, how do I know this? 

Why, because you always come back for more.

For more of my letters, pretty letters,

your coeliac stomach cannot wait to reject.

(Kristiana Reed)

You stab me with a misplaced comma’s edge,

expect me to bleed ink, but I blossom gold

leaf, like pages of a holy tome, and your

lines of prose crackle in my burning gale.

I am more word than woman, you see

and I am truth, your haunting just ghost

of all those who said no, who pushed me

down stairs of paragraphs, but I got grit,

I grew wings of paper, from you I fly.

(Allie Nelson)

hey you there –

with the pursed lips

and furrowed brow

click-clacking

your studied

critical analysis

of these driblets

of my life’s blood.

you must be fucking new here

if you mistake

the penning

of my soul

upon the page

as a request

for literary critique.

this, here

is the juice of my carotid

scrawled with fingertips

as I apply

tourniquet and poultice.

your worded attempts

to package my agony

into neat and tidy

boxes

are ill-advised salt flakes

poured into my wounds.

(Aurora Phoenix)

Soft upon the scene

He entered

Mushy odorless rambling

Entailed:

“Darling, how are you faring?

Your words are dancing in my soul

Your star shines upon my dreams.”

Going after me

Feeling my every words’ step

With a presumptuous club

White and black penned music

That clawed silence to my ears:

“You are the brightest…

Fade away, you heartless beast!”

(Iulia Halatz)

i picked up my pen and out came all of me.
it poured and poured,
filling space with untrained words and anarchy,
sharpened love, feelings bent,
a keenness breathed without judgement,
ink balled with mercy
into something of me that might speak in truth.
but you sat and held your cup,
and watched it spill.
you put it in your cabinet
with a yellow note: ‘could do better.’
i would those curling lips
might taste the poison in the teacup
between your eyes;
that is where the horror really lies.

(Lois E. Linkens)

You must be new here, because tact and common decency seem lost on you. You see, it is not okay to call a woman by any other name than the one she has given — so don’t call me Baby and I won’t call you Tiny. It is not okay to insert yourself in my life and assume I need your sage advice — if I want to know, I will ask. Do not presume to know what I am thinking, or what my heart is trying to say — because you can be damn sure that if I wrote the words, I meant each and every one of them. I’m not perfect, and I never claimed to be, but I don’t need a lecture on semantics or grammar — I’ve had more than enough schooling and experience to know my own mind. But, if you really are new here, remember this one simple rule: if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.
(Sarah Doughty)

You enter my house and

manhandle my verse. You

wonder why my

heart spurts crimson with

every heavy beat—

pressure me for information.

Why so mocking?

Why so angry?

Why the foul language? Bitch,

you must be fucking new here

if you expect an

explanation.

Cos I don’t answer stupid

questions.

Grow a brain, and

get a clue.

(Kindra M. Austin)

 

Author: Sudden Denouement

A Global Literary Collective

81 thoughts on “Are You Fucking New Here?- A Weyward Sisters Collaboration”

  1. There’s so many favourite lines to choose from but to do that would make me the very essence of the “you” pronoun, so I’m gonna play it safe and congratulate you Bad Ass Ladies on this mansplaining bonfire! #WeywardSisters.

    Liked by 5 people

  2. I must not be new here, at least not too new to thoroughly celebrate this fierce and amazing conversation of you Sisters with thumbs set a-pricking by something wicked having tried to critique the recipe without really tasting the stew.

    Liked by 4 people

      1. I haven’t forgotten. And I’ve promised you a letter too. Haven’t forgotten that either.
        I’m in the middle of changes (I’ll tell you about it) and haven’t got many collaboration ideas. I’d love to hear yours though. I’m sure they’ll inspire me.
        As always I’m sending you love.

        Liked by 1 person

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