A Lipstick Jamboree

Dancing on the burned charred remains of the brasseire
in white bone high heels
painting my body red with the blood of my sisters, mothers, aunts, grandmothers scorned.
Picking up the ashes of those womyn before who were ignored
I wipe my eyelids
the new shade for this season
The menstral blood dripping down my thigh becomes the ink for the books where we have been left out/ scribbled out/ torn out/ forgotten.
I walk down the gray dirt road with a full moon enhancing my power overhead.
I am a goddess.
I am the embodiment of feminine energy.
A feminine energy that is ancient/pure/powerful.
Not what the patriarchy has taken and slaughtered through use of media outlets.
They were scared of it.
Scared that the feminine might become more beautiful than the masculine.
They had to commit genocide.
I will forgive them after I cut the dick of the patriach and use its blood as my new shade of red red lipstick.