Monday, March 28, 2011

Spoken Like a True Feminist...Continued!

Like what you saw in Medusa? Want to check out more of these incredible writers work? Check out these links. And if you don't recognize the names, well then you'll just have to check out the most recent issue of Medusa first now won't you!

Check out Olson's work here: http://alixolson.com

Check out Gibson's poems "I Do" and "For Eli" here: http://www.andreagibson.org

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

MEDUSA ISSUE #4

Oh hey! Medusa Issue #4 is oot and aboot!
Download it here!
Drop us a line at medusamagazine@gmail.com




I love you very much,
Sammy

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Gender by Andrea Stopa

Red stains in my underwear,
I woke up to a mess.
I cry to my mother
who gives me a pad and tells me everything will be ok,
that that's life.
But I don't really believe her.
Because she doesn't really believe herself.

Once a month
I will bleed for my gender
I will bleed to be a woman
I will bleed for my baby-making purpose
So that man can recreate
And what about that?
Squeezing a cranium the size of a melon past my pelvis out into the world?
I will stretch and tear to let life out of me,
But I am the weaker sex.
I am the one who is here to serve.
To make dinner after a long day at work.
To give comfort to the kiddies and give pleasure to my hubbie to give nothing to myself because
like that giving tree,
I give give give,
that's just how it is is is.

Wear pink, play with dolls, kiss a boy, hold his hand,
Wear mascara, blush your cheeks, don't say fuck, find a man
Cross your legs, lose some weight, buy a bra, get a date

Raise your hand, wait your turn, be a lady, let him win
No means yes, lead him on, give a kiss, let him in
Tone your arms, stand up straight, lift your ass, shrink your waist

But make sure all this stress never creases your face!

Get a house with a fence, and a man that gets paid
Get a mother-in-law, have some babies to raise
But don't lose your career! Just juggle and fake it
And blame PMS when you're starting to hate it.

Tears in her eyes,
I woke up to a mess.
She cries on my shoulder
I tell her I will kill that bastard, that it wasn't her fault.
That everything will be okay.
But I know she doesn't really believe me,
I don't really believe me.
He robbed her
Of her freedom
Of her innocence
her smile.
She bled because she was a woman
She bled because TV makes violence the norm
And she won't cry out because chances are her story won't hold up in court.
She will live her life running form ghosts, from the monsters in the night
Because he had an urge
That she couldn't fight.
But she is the weaker sex,
The one who's not worth as much pay in the boardroom but has to pay everyday for a choice
she didn't make.
What will it take?
What will it take.