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Rite Of Passage

A rite of passage during our bloody moon

Sometimes called the menstrual doom!

Told to go unnoticed in a culture full of ….

Pick up the Pace or You’ll fall flat on your face

As the rest of us Clamor for our place in societies race.

I will not stop.

I will not lose.

I must win.

I don’t care if it’s a tale spin.

Blood drips.

My body becomes puffy and slow.

i sure wish I could lay low….

And be with the chi of earth’s sweet delicacy.


Get up!

Take some caffeine.

I’ve got to get this place clean.

Get the kids off to sports…

Download that report, for my boss,

on our company’s latest loss…

Dinner on the table by 8,

Or my family will abdicate….

And tortuous complaints…

For I must feed their strength.

Blood Moon.

Shedding that deep inner layer.

Back in the olden days,

The woman used to allow the hayes

Of the regular days,

To fall to the side,

As they took pride in the glide of the bloody ride!

Learning the medicinal uses of plants, and how they dance with our human expanse…

The health of the tribe was seen to be held by the vibe,

Of the monthly cleansing of the womb….

Understanding their is no doom.

Taking time to let the feminine spin,

Reveal the din,

Allowing the sensitivities to win.

Remembering we are so powerful with in.

If we can be freed

From the Nature of our Corporate Greed

For those 2 or three days of heavy bleed

We will remember the power

Of our bloody hours.

Now this is a counter intuitive coach,

Inside the caplets approach…

But it is no hoax.

This body holds information that can lobby more than hobby.

This womb holds that map

Of our society’s recent gap,

our flux in our ducts of reason.

An experiment hailed!

That I say,

Has failed.

Let’s celebrate the try,

and reach for the deep guy lines of the past.

In can be our prayer

As our ancient sisters and brothers faired

To care for our communities lair

WE can integrate the old with new

And See

What Alchemy comes to BE…


What say we?

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