Poetry: 4 women

THE SAINT:the artist

In this journey I have chosen alone I find two pathways Both seem more rewarding than the road supposedly paved by God. One guided by Karl Marx The other by Kimberlee Williams Crenshaw I stand at the intersection, the convergence Waiting to see What monsters will soon appear parading from either valley -------- My first vision is sore I am covered in splatters and dirt My eyes have never hurt more My hair, pulled back My hands clenched in spasm I am underdressed, yet I have never felt more fierce I am so weak but I have fondness Of fighting armies With the fiercest concepts in my hands The blood of the defensive Drips off my tongue and onto the smock that is my battle armor I have worked too hard to give up now To be an artist is to never be satisfied Because we fight an impossible, endless war From within to the outside world That refuses to pay for what they can not understand the function, the message, or the creator I am furiously alive with passion Yet, I feel myself sinking more than ever


THE ANGEL:the guardian

There is nothingness and I am falling I sprout wings to glide me Through the air and through the night I do not soar nor do I bask in I am omnipotently obedient My life is yours to use as you need My hands feel no pain If they can accomplish your goals Your happiness will be my joy Even at my expense I can not be selfish If their approval is what gets me into heaven I will kill for you if thats what you want I will bloody my hands, my body and soul To protect you from evil I will bathe in the evidence To rid you of your guilt For I know you don’t deserve it When I am the one who let it happen Don’t ever let me think About myself, my identity, or my life I will distract you to distract myself Rid me of my awareness As it causes me to ache and yern For a hand not help But to hold me of its own free will


THE DEMON:the whore

I just wanted something in return I wanted to feel whole again So I sold my soul to the devil He ripped me of my wings And drained me of all my blood I am cold but immortally bewitching I won’t be like the other girls I won’t exist in the daylight I will walk through the street To get to your car and into your bed Don’t remind me of my humanity It’s weight is still trying to be shed To be covered up and perfected To ignore your familiar flaws In hopes you don’t notice my horns Sprouting from a doll like face Trying so desperately to keep fire From leaving these bitten lips She makes a statement She commands all male attention Good or Bad, any interaction will do To combat the loneliness That refuses to be admitted Numbers are racked Cute Plain Jane is just a little whore With a smart mouth, a bad attitude No chill, too many opinions Too much noise to enjoy her quirks Her charm has run out Or really her sugary coating melted To reveal blazing gold underneath


THE GOD:the intellectual

The spit left on my face wipes away My eyes are daggers to those that mock the weak that lay at my feet I raise my crown higher than any expectation could try My arms open wide Not to welcome those that seek But to instigate those that threaten The kingdom I serve to uphold: My body, part mortal part intangible logic My mind, half golden gears half red giants hurdling at all times through the infinite dimension And My Heart, entirely comprised of those willing to come inside for refuge both haters of the cold and allergic to the Sun I declare, I am not dumb enough for this Across the land, through the sky and seas I deserve nothing exceptional But I know that me and my people Deserve fire, shelter, and a clean breath We do not deserve storms the extreme consequences of gravity or another puff of smoke to the eyes We face the ground We look down Not in fear of eye contact But because the top of the pyramid Has a glass floor 1 mile deep To sleep is to show weakness My dreams tell me nothing I have not already diagnosed --- No power can be above me If it is so petty towards my accomplishments that it needs to destroy me My adversity is not a test But a punishment For tirelessly trying to unlock my own greatness Each and Every Single Day In eating forbidden fruit I did not become aware of nudity But of myself and my own beauty And how fragile the pride of man can be When faced with a woman who knows only of herself as an individual Before ever considering stepping down As a commodity of her household environment She and We are all in the same We Die as one corpse in one grave Under 4 different Names And an endless amount of possibilities Made Real by the trust Of a single shining star



Rosie Brandenburg is a Milwaukee Based Artist making large installation and painting type pieces. A maker at many intersections of human identity her work deals with the overly sensitive nature of coping in constant confusion. Her work is large scale and mixed much like her DNA. Her work is built off the interests of the immortalization of portrait painting, the hoarding assemblage of religious shrines, as well as the poetry created out of pure trauma.

Her many feelings are channeled through: video, painting, text formatting, poetry writing, installation, creative direction and narrative design

"I'd choose Milwaukee over Heaven any day"


  • Milwaukee, Wisconsin, United States