Erika Swinson
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Poetry

*Disclaimer - The poetry on the "Hello Poetry" website under my name is NOT mine.  The poetry below is written by me.  Also, honor system here, please don't take my work (anywhere on this website) and claim it as your own.  Thanks.
Pierce
should i be
standing
here alone and
crowded
societies idiosyncrasies
not my own - punishment - privilege -
the new realities that
come as gently as
snapped fingers right in
your ears - eyes - and
standing on the 
stage with
needling panic at
the one who
knows me but
never knew it with the
time paced - slowly frantic -
fiercely calm
the thrown notice and  
silenced stream

Morbid Beads

looking at the
tinted lights wondering
if it is all not black and
white just
different shades of gray and
i beg for your
infection traveling through
this tunnel of eyes jumping
up and cutting the couch - slice -
looking to buy your
unbreakable plastic
heart talking to the
caged man he is
hanging upside down i
am scratching
my neck in this 
endurance - forced insomnia - and
on the paper he draws his ducks bigger than
his houses and there is 
a man floating in black
drawn darkness my
cage is covered like a 
bird i slept - stopped singing - taught to sing in the dark - she
told me sometimes she
thinks he does not love
her - not her beauty - uniqueness
all her own - his actions
speak of
a love that stems
from the anger he
holds inside the
anger he holds 
longer than he holds her i am
stretched out in 
this hollowness as
i am relating
to your darkness as
we look on 
twisted together 
by the ties in
our hearts he
wants to name
his daughter jade - symbolic questioning -
she likes the stone i
pull away saying
i want no one to
follow - locked doors -
really hoping to see you there our
eyes meet in
everyday experience
the colors mean so
much and she's 
sad because of the 
weather and nothing
else
And it is...
F for the way the forefathers really fucked me
F for the freedom I feel yanking my chains
F for the fellas that want to be femmes
F for the femmes that dig me
F for the word fuck in all its grandiosity
F for the failures we all feel and see
F for the freedom from ourselves and who we think we ought to be
F for the fearlessness brewing inside of me
F for the fantasies that get me off at noon
F for the flicking ashes and the way she carries a tune
F for my father and his father before - salute the green -
F for the friends that aren't so fickle
F for the flecks in her blue eyes
F for the freedom I hope for of Friday nights
F for the fist that can mean so much
F for first times
F for the fury I feel when I have to choke down my lunch
F for the feeling people and the fucked up freaks
F for my four o'clock in the morning insomnia
F for the mother Mary Lou and her Uncle Fred
F for the freckled faces that held me in high esteem
F for the flaky fag that hustled me down the street
F is sixth for a reason
F knows how to raise hell
F will get you what you need and then leave you for a spell
F for the fingers that, well, you know about fingers
F is for you and for me
F is the way you feel the next morning
F the f-ing phone call you didn't get from me
F is a powerful letter
F is easy to draw
F is simple
F is rare
F knows how to show others that you really care
F is for the end when you'd rather be asleep
F is the one that says get away from me you f-ing sheep
F has class
F shows your mother that you lack class
F crosses your mother's lips when your father is a real mother f-er
F for the masses
F for the criminally insane
F for the loiterers and the rest of us in my name

 
drag queen drag

Picture
king bitch was a bitch king's girl ruling over the nothing's world all covered in sins and pearls just as the bitch king girl they rented space in a cardboard palace engage in your life just for sport and for causing malice it sometimes is just a bitch king's world cos king bitch was a bitch king's girl

* Please note I believe the wolf head sticker was from a Beck CD.  All appropriate credit due him.  
© Erika Swinson : Undermining the Everyday : Contact : Home

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    • Artist Statement
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