The fatal flaw of women

It’s like they sucked the lifeblood and will right out of her.

Then, there were moments of shook foil.

There were moments of real, true power, movement, & authenticity.

There were moments of feeling oppressed & mute…

A bit of a ping-pong whirlwind dance.

But, slowly thru breath, movement, & awareness, she got back into her power, her fierceness, her love no longer hidden.



An open book, shining, all rays through all vessels.

The bandwidth/the resilience thick like a rubber band, like a Hoover dam.

Deeply sustained in her food source, from above, from below.

Able to tolerate mood swings, itches, i.e., fire & cold

Blazing with force.

Rock solid in Her Mojo.

Her Will.

Her radiant Life-Force.

She is.

No questions asked.

She tolerates others lovingly, but also takes no shit.

This ain’t a mild case.

There is power in her belly.

Imagine trusting all people/all society.

No need to “protect”.


This is childlike.


She doesn’t like shrinking, & feels “loss/shame” in collapse.

Remembering “Not Afraid to be Beautiful”.

She is a wild animal that had been domesticated.

Unorthodox, not simply for the sake of being Unorthodox, but for the sake of being real.

With Wildly Beautiful Disruption.

The dancers are expressing what she’s always wanting to express:


There is so much beauty, it makes her jaw drop.

No preaching, just singing,

like a Hindu Wedding, being fed an over-abundance of milk & bananas.

She dances, rolls, grovels,

smashing ’round with a reckless + seamless behavior.

She meets the walls, the ground.

She grounds, hitting the necessary & welcome boundaries.

Releasing the charge.



Chair Photo by nikolinelr on flickr


Posted by:messymonkeyarts

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