Wednesday, August 24, 2016


I liked a page on Facebook yesterday having to do with women who no longer are involved with religion (I don't want to use the actual name of the page here because not everything I have to say is positive).  It's very anti-patriarchy, which I thought I would like, because I loathe the history of the treatment of women – really despise it, especially in religion – any religion.  And as far as the page is concerned, it is one that offers a lot of really excellent memes and factoids about women and religion's treatment of them. 

Then I Googled for Feminism Memes and got way more than I bargained for.  Most of them ridiculed today's feminism, saying it is man-bashing, and that today's feminists are feminazis. 

The thing is, some of what I read on the Facebook page was extremely dismissive of anyone who might have positive input about men. 

Don't get me wrong.  There are some damned evil men out there, and I am the first one to fully support women recognizing their own power and using it.  One of the ways, of course, is to start a Facebook page or a blog and express your own opinions – unconditionally.  However, there is always more than one side of the story. 

Whenever someone makes a comment that isn't anti-men on that particular page, it will be deleted, because 'mansplaining' is forbidden there.  I'm not talking about tirades of comment bombing, just points of view. 

Here's my opinion: 

Every issue, even feminist ones, are not just about women, but about men as well.  That is reality.  I try to stay away from the stereotypes on both sides.  Yes, men have held all the power in the world for centuries.  But perhaps that's because they were not challenged – not seriously – because women backed down. 

Women are not backing down anymore.  That's fantastic.  And neither are gays, ethnics, the elderly, the disabled, or other minority groups. 

However, sometimes I think that groups (I will use feminists here, because it's where I started), when the big battles are won, or at least well on their way, get off on petty tangents just because they like picking fights. 

And sometimes I look at some of those fights and almost laugh because they are petty and rather silly.  And I also look at some of the questions men have, some of the points they are making, and have to nod my head and admit they are valid. 

What would our foremothers think of feminists today?  Foremothers who risked their freedom and health for their most serious cause?  I won't speculate on that because times are different, and so is our cause. 

I just hope that women will maintain dignity and push in ways that we are taken seriously. 

Lastly, I wonder about man-bashing.  If things were the other way around – if women had established all the rules and had all the power – if we would have hesitated to seize that power, perhaps lord it over men.  There are some seriously conniving and selfish women in the world, and always have been. 

I believe in fairness – equality.  I also believe that women don't need to ask for permission from men.  We simply need to take the initiative and do. 

Do whatever we want. 

But we also have to take on the responsibility and work to achieve whatever we want. And we have to acknowledge that there are consequences to our actions, including our words. 

There is a difference between wanting our own dreams and wanting what men have.  We should make and work for our own. 

In that spirit, I wrote the following poem: 

          There are good and evil women.

          There are good and evil men.

          But one has ruled the other

          With the rules that never bend. 

          Must the pendulum swing

          Way back the other way

          To women who would oppress,

          Women who would enslave

          Men with primitive, feminine wiles

          And claim long-denied power,

          Or truly stop at equality

          As history finally marks our hour? 

LG/td – 8/23/2016

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

SPIRIT SPEAR By Lisa Galloway

It arrived in a modern day crate,
This warrior's spear, that didn't suit
An urban apartment, especially with
Such a barbarian, such a brute.

The warmth of the wooden shaft,
With generations of symbols decorated
Faded into chill of death
In 'hunter's' hands its honor berated.

"My God," he said in a reverent whisper,
The reverence never touching his soul.
Admiring eagle feather adornments he'd
Never earned, just bought, honor he stole.

Each bead attached with a prayer,
To the spear's shaft meant for an honorable man
Tipped with skillfully napped flint
That he hadn't worked with his own hands.

Hands that had never created –
Never honor wrought,
Never protected a family,
Or a life and death battle fought. 

Never protected a frightened child
Or stayed a woman's fears. 
Never put food on a table
Or kissed away a baby's tears. 

He just brought them into the forest
Wreaking senseless, dishonorable death
For just the sport of killing
No prayer o'er the animal's last breath.

Outside in the air, his brother watching
And learning frivolous, deadly deeds
The so-called hunter practiced
On pelt-covered dummy in the weeds.

Striking between the dummy's eyes,
That were as dead as the 'hunter's' soul
His brother thrusting fist in air
As if his sibling were warrior bold. 

Again and again his brother cheered,
Envisioning the death his brother would wreak,
Would never learn honor, meaning, respect
Or the animal's forgiveness to seek.

He grabbed up the rope of the make-believe beast
And dragged it across the ground
The spear rocked it, thudding into its neck
Animal spirits cringing at the sound.

Cheering each other the brothers fought
An animal that couldn't fight back
Just as the live ones in the woods
Were outmanned and outgunned to be hacked.

It's just a game with the human beasts
Bringing death to whatever life
They encounter in the depths of the woods
Without apology or prayer for bringing strife.

While the 'hunter' had honed his skills
In his yard with the dummy beast
(More sensitive than he or his brother)
It was there that his hunter's luck ceased. 

In the forest with living creatures
He felt the spear warm in his hands,
Thought, finally, it's coming back to life
But prey seemed impossible to land.

Though he threw true, the spear would veer
Off wide and miss the kill. 
One buck so close, impossible to miss
Spear lodged in tree; no blood did spill.

The buck ran off never to be
Seen for the rest of the hunt.
And after two days, the hunter snapped
The shaft over his knee with a grunt. 

He cast it aside, and left the woods,
To go home and retrieve his rifle
And the spear glowed and healed itself
Awaiting a warrior who would not trifle

With its mystical powers bestowed upon
Its tip of flint and shaft of ash
Beneath the detritus it slipped
Awaiting a warrior not so rash

Who lived with honor and respect
For every living thing
When such a person came into the wood
The spear for him or her would sing. 

Thursday, February 11, 2016

Smallpox & Misogyny

Smallpox & Misogyny

They came here looking to escape the disease
To shake off superstition like so many fleas

To flee the church's long and mighty arm
That for centuries had done nothing but bring harm 

To mostly womenfolk who clung to pagan ways,
Who worshipped gods of seasons, moons of nights, suns of days,

Then called the people welcoming them in
To their virgin lands savage redskins. 

And did the same vile and evil things
To them that had been done to them – that's what church brings. 

Destruction, ignorant judgment, pain and death
Came with the so called Christians' deeds and breath

As the hunted turned to hunters having learned
Just how to catch a witch and see her burned. 

They brought this evil with them cross the seas
And drove the so called savages to their knees. 

Their bodies tainted with smallpox disease
And their minds with religion of misogyny. 

LG – 1/21/2016

Thursday, December 31, 2015


Susan Smith and Dianne Downs
Are psychos from the same mold. 
Game playing sluts luring their men
Desperate to keep a stronghold. 

The down and dirty lovers' games
That every ho-bag plays
Using their children, expendable pawns
Sacrificing them for a tawdry lay. 
Diane's curly-haired murderer man
Came from her psychotic mind
Who shot her little ones in cold blood
Was the tale for the court she'd wind.
But her surviving daughter told
The truth she actually saw.  
Her mother shot her and her sibs
For her lover had no paternal call. 
Susan Smith was another slut
Who drowned her babies dead
To make herself free to a so-called man
Who only wanted her in bed. 

She strapped them into a car-seat
Then watched their little eyes
As it slowly dawned on them
That their mother's love was all lies. 

Dianne and Susan proceeded to cry
And lie their asses off for days
Feigning heartbreak at the loss of their kids
Until evidence proved their evil ways. 

Now the slut bitches rot in jail
And hopefully later in hell
Where they must look at the eyes of their dead
Babies with no more lies to tell. 
To cover for Mom's murderous deeds
In the quest of landing loser men
The eyes of their children will see right through
As they turn their winged backs to them,

Leaving their so-called mamas to rot
For stealing the lives left in their trust.
The babies now sing and play as angels
Bad memories of moms crumbling to dust.

LG/td – 12/17/2015

Saturday, December 12, 2015

The Most Celebrated Rape by Lisa Galloway

Every year at this time, the nativity scene is all over the place, innocent child personified, and beautiful peace is supposed to reign all over the earth. 
But if you really read the Christmas story, about the conception of Christ, how can women look at it as anything more than a rape? Mary was impregnated without her knowledge or consent.  That's rape.  Really?  I'm supposed to worship a God who rapes to conceive a son? 
I am not a heathen - just the opposite, I'm intensely spiritual.  But I cannot overlook all of the contradictions of Christianity.  Especially when it comes to the degradation and vilification of women throughout a Bible written by ignorant and arrogant men and a history of genocide (the Great Flood) and matricide (The Witch Hunts) sanctioned by God. 


To rid the world of Paganism
And make it pure for Christ
Church elders befouled their own God
And Mary’s rep was sacrificed.

Instead of deifying Mary
And have heaven ruled by god and goddess
Christians wrote the Virgin Rape
Unnatural and quite immodest.

Joseph’s wife was coveted and used
The tenth and seventh commandments broken.
And thus impregnated—though we can’t tell how
By sifting through all the written hokum. 

No goddess here, the Christians vowed;
The vagina is the devil’s work. 
Include a goddess in our Bible?
That would be an evil quirk. 

Just Father Son and Holy Ghost
But isn’t that an aberration?
Placing Christ in woman’s womb
Then denying her part in her child’s creation?

Perhaps the writers of the book
Forgot to ask if Mary consented
To have her body violated
In ways described that were demented. 

First, what’s with the all-male trinity?
Is that a Bible hypocrisy?
Man cannot lay with man but
Neither with woman can he be?

If we are in God’s image shouldn’t
It be Parents, Son, and Holy Ghost?
Apparently God forgot vaginas
Half the creation of which he boasts.

Men wrote depraved fairy tales
About their Savior’s conception.
Heaven forbid we worship mere woman
Or have God sully his erection.

Instead of horrid female flesh
Into Gabriel’s mouth he inserted his seed
A deviant act by his own ruling
He sullied an angel to fulfill the need

To deny mere woman’s participation
In the birth of his divine son.
From Gabriel’s mouth through lily filter
Into Mary’s ear!  Such folly is spun!

And what of the tube from God’s mouth in heaven
Carrying to “beneath Mary’s skirts” his seed? 
How did the tube make it inside her?
Did it cause the tender virgin to bleed? 

And how did God’s seed get into his mouth—
The same way it got to Mary’s ear? 
As it is above so it shall be below—
Heaven’s the work of a fictioneer? 

And then there’s the bestiality theory:
God’s seed in the beak of a Holy Dove.
Perhaps placed in Mary’s ear again? 
Why can’t god admit sexual love? 

One man, one woman, god commanded
In a constantly quoted decree
But to make his son he nixed that rule
For angel sex and bestiality.

All to take Mary’s divinity away
And not have to share his throne,
Or admit the feminine side of god
Male petulance leaves me cold as stone. 

Saturday, August 1, 2015


From the Heart of the American Bald Eagle

Their eyes look to me for sustenance
Their souls follow mine into the night
Their fear hidden, the secret of their
Pain that dares not cross their lips
For them to soar I must grapple
In a dance for eternity and never lose
But never win just keep my soul
From giving in.

I feel the surge within their hearts
And deep within the very earth beneath our world.
In every schoolchild’s song, in every
Writer’s pen, every artist’s brush stroke
In every musician’s note, in every
Mother’s breast and father’s stride.
There’s nowhere to hide.

I cannot run, and would not even
If the choice was mine to make.
I stand with those I cherish, those
Who stand with me, fly with me,
Claim freedom with me.

And though my mind says fly away
And save myself and soar into the trees
And let them battle for themselves, they’re
Strong enough and I am so, so tired
My heart says come back
To them and help their souls to
Restore peace and their
Consciences to mend.

There is no sunlight on my face to
Make me know that good is in my
Heart but I feel it there, it
Warms me in the desperate hours
Of the gloom when dark is thick
And promises doom.

As long as I draw breath and flap
A wing those I cherish will survive
And keep careful watch as I have
Done so that the evil demons
Will not our souls overrun.


This was originally written for Owl's Eye View Magazine, from the Owl Crone’s point of view, because she is about to battle evil for her beloved town of Owl’s Nest. However, it occurred to me that this could be from the viewpoint of the American Bald Eagle. - LG 8/1/2015