This is my fuggn FAVORITE poet right now!!! Why does she describe me and all my friend to a T??? Why does she know me sooo well?
Enjoy…
WILD CHILD WOMEN- VANESSA HIDARY 2010
For all you Crazy, Loud, Eccentric, Fiery, Passionate, Romantic, Sex loving, Stubborn, Angelic, Smart, Talented, Outlandish, Pulling your Fuckin’ hair out, Wild Child Artist women out there-
This is for you.
I am you.
You are me.
We are fire.
We are high heels and hoodies
We are belly laughs and risk
We are classy yet silly
We are Wild.
Not every guy is for us
We attract ones who are initially enthralled by our spice
But then become suddenly scared of our prickle
We are not perfect and in case anyone didn’t know..
We Know This.
Sometimes our cup runneth over with passion,
Sometimes we use our hands in overly loud gestures from whatever culture we hail,
But unfortunately Dear Lovers,
We cannot be spiced to your particular tongue.
You must swallow us whole.
We know we confuse you.
One moment we exude sass,
The next we purr with sweet kisses.
Part playful girl- part wise woman,
Moneymakers, vision masters,
Mothers love us, polite and smart,
Your boys think we’re mad cool,
We can hold a conversation with Anyone, Anywhere,
Madonna/Whore..
We got it covered.
Men cant believe G-d created women this diverse,
So they suspect it’s a trap.
They turn us upside down and shake us,
Trying to see if a clue will fall from our beautiful mouths.
Dumbfounded many crawl away.
This pains us deeply.
We feel pain and joy like knife strokes on bellies,
But we must let them walk.
They will never forget us,
But they can’t hang with us.
We- Go-Hard.
We end up with the men that are smart enough to know
They found the winning ticket,
And they are cashing in quick,
They are never the men we pictured ourselves with.
Their strength is Ninja-like,
Chill, familiar, Secure,
Like summertime stoops.
In the past we always fell for dark alleyways.
But even you dear ticket holder,
Might need a guide to our species habits,
Here goes;
We are fiercely loyal.
Sometimes to a fault.
Hands will be bit, if you mess with our kin or our man.
We argue with our girlfriends then make up with them crying.
We all have at least one crazy friend in our clan that we’ve known forever
That might crash on our couch for a night.
Ok… Maybe a week.
They are family.
They come with the package.
Some nights just out of nowhere we’ll bust out crying,
And you’ll say-
“What the hell happened-you were fine a minute ago!”
And we’ll say, “I dunno, -I just need to fuckin’ cry ok!”
We just need you to be there.
Then we’ll go sing dance, paint or write
And fuck you like you never knew what hit you.
We think that’s fair exchange for a minor flip out.
Just cause we are Divas doesn’t mean we aren’t old fashioned and domestic,
Our strength doesn’t excuse you from chivalry, and Valentines Day.
We are girly, feminine, hopeless romantics.
We want doors opened
We cook and clean- if we feel its deserved
Remember we are doers, not followers.
We want to be claimed but not owned.
We know our unruly asses sometimes need to be lassoed in
Let us shine.
Let others enjoy a glimpse,
Get excited
Knowing we go home
Only with you.
To you.
We want you.
Our capacity to socialize is nothing you’ve ever seen the likes of,
Don’t be alarmed by our tolerance to liquor, coffee, smoking, food.
We are made of some other shit.
We carry grown ass men out of bars
And kick amateur girls to the curb.
Be assured the mature wild child has mentally mastered moderation
But if you get drunky girl one night don’t be surprised.
Sometimes we slip.
That’s all for now,
We appreciate your patience and passion.
We know its complicated but you seem like a quick study
My wild, crazy, unruly, artsy, fiery, sweet, smart, talented sisters,
I am you. You are Me.
We are not for everyone
But We Live.
Vigorously.
Carry On.
