This poem started a scandal at a TAFE college in Australia (equivalent to a community college, or technical college elsewhere). We were asked to do a small business project for the business class of a certificate course in journalism. I put together a small booklet of poetry with the work of three other poets in it - the theme was erotica and romance. I included this poem. I don't know why, because I've always been a bit nervous about it graphic nature. But everyone in the class was over 18 so I thought it would be cool.
Anyway the teacher gave me 47/50 and when the shit hit the fan she told me her mark was statement of her support of me. All the other teachers expressed their support and so did those member of the class over 25. But there had developed a gang of sorts under that age who found me to be confronting. I was maybe too much up-front about my involvement in fetish because I felt politically affronted by the shame people tried to lay on me regarding it. I was used to giving massage to my friends when I saw they were tense, and am a toucher in general. When the powers that be investigated they found a range of things, including this poem, I had done had made this younger crowd uncomfortable. They thought I was sleazy and so I was banned from the institution for six months from doing any courses. It was the end of the course and so made no difference to my receiving my certificate.
I'm a slow learner. This event didn't teach me as much as it should have. A little over a year later I lost a job as a result of similar circumstances, no poem and after only 3 weeks. After that event I spent two-three weeks in bed crying and lost 20 kilogram (30+lbs). It was followed by 6months of unemployment. The lessons were multiple. Most of them were things I thought I knew - tolerance and consideration, thoughtfulness, understanding and respect, good communication and solid connections with people. When I realised I wasn't any of these when it came to fetish and my sex I was horrified and deeply shamed. My spiritual retreat into consulting with my pillow and tears was a journey through my life back to the very different ways my parents dealt with shame and their codependent abuse of each other and the nature of shame in my daily life. I had vision of myself as baby born of a double helix DNA expressing the marriage of the two opposing and conflicting forms of shame. My involve in fetish (which continues) was fueled by my battle and management of that shame and had resulted in a righteousness that blinded me to the ways I was imposing myself, my sexuality on others.
It was very traumatic but I learnt a lot from it and am still learning from it. Shame is an interesting part of our nature but that's another part of my story for another occasion.
Taboo
written 1996
You wanted to look at my arse,
You wanted to see me come,
You wanted to fuck me,
You wanted to see me,
You wanted your gaze to control me.
You were a lesbian, I am a man,
But you wanted to be my man.
Your fingers and hands were itching to enter me,
I was wet waiting wanting you inside me.
You wanted to see my cock do its man thing all over me (but not you)
But it would not.
I was the woman,
You were inside me,
I hungered for you as a man, it was delicious pain,
Fulfilled by not eating.
I wanted you to want me to fill you up.
I wanted to know you, in the biblical way.
I wanted to be a fire hose so strong you flew,
I wanted to drench you, to drench me,
I wanted to fill your eyes with the power of your hands,
The power of a lesbian and man breaking a taboo.
Once I thought, maybe, but - ego, so stupidly masculine.
We kissed - No you were drunk.
At a party - I bowed to you, you were nasty.
You talked - Exposing yourself.
You said you didn’t call because you were afraid I was interested in you sexually.
Wrong idea - I knew that.
Once again was it drink that armoured you against the protections you’ve built up against the world.
Was this something you’ll hide from?
No, of course it wasn’t sex; it was a game of the ego, of the senses, of power.
You said I would have to beg for more,
I felt kinda queer, but it was good.
2 comments:
That poem holds a lot of passion and pain. The clipped lines race ahead without abandon. The fire hose line especially struck me, a visual image, I could see it. This had to be both therapeutic and informative for others. Although the emotions are specific to a certain situation how many times have we all felt confused, fucked over, left raw and dismayed? It's really about sexuality and its potential to heal and hurt.
I am with your teacher. A 47/50 for sure. Anyone who cringes over it does so because that person is not in touch with his or her own sexuality which is powerful, the core of our being. Deny, deny, deny. That is the way of the world at large.
Thank you your bravery.
thank you for the inspiration to share it. I thought you might appreciate it... did you see the comment I added to iris' post about parenthood??? I think I'll put it here. I like it at least.
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