Occupy Intersectionality !

Put on your pussy hat, grab your Kibbles—

Let that cat out of your bag

Celebrate your business, Womyn

Whether you be sprite or hag . . .

Which is which? You make us wonder

(as you hate on the head-of state)

What you’re packing. Woman-thunder

Promises to titillate.

Lead us men into our future

Show us where we’ve gone astray.

Shine that light of Matriarchy

As we stumble on our way.

Pure emotion lights your gender.

Superficial party-lines

Tie us up. A pussy-bender

Just might straighten out your signs.

Talking-points at intersections

Promise to inflame the game.

Seeking brave new world directions

Ought to shift some blame.

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Alicia Powe vs. Semi-informed Felines

Hey you! In the vagina-hat,
frumpy feminist dressed in pink;
we men (what do you make of that)
would love to know just what you think.

We’ve heard of “ass-hats”, anyway.
But we can see the other side:
it’s orificial bombs away
as bridegrooms now behold the bride.

Gynecology on parade:
how weird. You think it makes your point?
It’s more a vaginal charade,
and promises to disappoint.

You say your cap evokes your pussy;
feline foolishness, I say.
It’s cat in bag when fems get fussy
showing patriarchs the way.

FULL POEM and more Mansplaining HERE

Stoking the Pussyfires

Hey you! In the vagina-hat,
frumpy feminist dressed in pink;
we men (what do you make of that)
would love to know just what you think.

We’ve heard of “ass-hats”, anyway.
But we can see the other side:
it’s orificial bombs away
as bridegrooms now behold the bride.

Gynecology on parade:
how weird. You think it makes your point?
It’s more a vaginal charade,
and promises to disappoint.

You say your cap evokes your pussy;
feline foolishness, I say.
It’s cat in bag when fems get fussy
showing patriarchs the way.

Show us yours and we’ll show our own.
Well, actually—it’s kind of cold
to whip it out right here downtown…
We’ll grant you this: you chicks are bold.

Your choice-aborted progeny,
disposed of in the clinic’s trash,
might blame you for misogyny—
though spared the curse of diaper rash.

We’ll keep abreast of all you do,
chanting, marching, fists in air…
yet still, you seem a silly crew
aflush with zeal (and pubic hair).

But must it always come to this:
biology devoid of God ?
Exteriorizing, hit and miss,
the secrets of your aging bod…

♀  ♀  ♀

fem-funny-suit

It would be interesting to know how many of the useful idiots donning “pussy hats” at Saturday’s massive “Women’s March on Washington” had any idea—or even cared to know—who the principal organizers of the event were. The answer is undoubtedly close to zero, since the purpose of the entire charade—like all leftist charades—was merely to give the participants an opportunity to publicly signal their own moral superiority while smearing—as racists and fascists—anyone who doesn’t accept socialism, identity politics, and perpetual grievance mongering as the ultimate expressions of the American Dream.

Full article by John Perazzo at FRONT PAGE

Vaginalia

 

Here, the bifurcated portal
gateway of expanding life
smiles rebirth—transcends the Mortal
splits the double “you” of wife.

Hail the great democratizer;
let us all salute the Queen—
Mankind’s rosy equalizer:
She Whose Splendor Reigns Unseen.

Treasure trove of procreation,
tunnel of love and fleshly muse,
membrane of illumination,
countryside’s exciting views…

Organ played to heights celestial,
bio-rhapsody exposed
proving that our best is bestial
and our earthly home foreclosed:

Grant us now behold thy beauty,
worship at thy humid throne.
Let mankind discharge his duty
in thy sacred pleasure-zone.

Though Somali blades despise you,
though your maidenhood offends,
Egypt’s night will not disguise you
nor separate you from your friends.

Vaginalia

Image adapted from The Vagina: A Literary and Cultural History by E. Rees