Motherhood (Art)

       Such disdain for anything masculine.  Wielding subtle weapons of cunning subterfuge.  Never outright,  obscuring real intent from exposure; strategies hidden, methods of operation unseen; obfuscation, avoidance, hypnotized, parlor tricks, spiritual narcolepsy.  Masked comfortably behind the mythology of nuturance, she unleashes emasculation so softly, so sweetly;  talons undetected, her trade honed and administered  with single minded brutality and intent.  Myriad methods of brandishing guilt at easy call; storehouse of sighs, glances, withdrawal.  Immediate isolation upon any perceived insurrection in her domain.  The maternal bond corrupted, driven by unconscious rage and perverted need, the deception goes unnoticed;  the son forever being narcotized.  Sleep deeply my little boy.
     The walking dream state gnaws incessantly; constant psychic emission.  Volcanic anger, self reprisal, skewered identity, shattered confidence, false relationships; virgin soil for obsession, addiction and self hate. Could this possibly be the real truth?  Feigned love, a daily scam consistently applied.  Stunning hypocrisy.   Unconditional love, the eternal joke.  Unheard, the chorus of laughter from bitter gods. 
     Never manifest to illumination, the surface of his soul becomes laden with feline injustice obscured from any self awareness. The goal, to assemble her ideal boy;  an empty vessel in which to pour her malignancy. Transfigure, transmute, tranquilize, create.  Sculpted by her tortured heart, paternal abuse and indifference, all completely unconscious to her.  She transfers her wound upon the innocent and unaware.
    The desired outcome: soft, pliable, docile, save for occasions where she may need to direct his instilled fury towards the target of her choice.  Nullified, neutered, open to her suggestion only.  Maleness in external form alone.
     He will marry and divorce.  Running home she will treat his wounds with the salve of impotence;  conspire to fix blame; collusion of denial;  for he can never be allowed to fix liability at her doorstep;.    This medicinal, fatally poisonous to his identity. 

    Instill in you my pain my son. Thank you for allowing me denial of it.  It's yours now my naive little boy.  How's that feel?   Sleep on, sleep on....

     Tainted maternal energy, chameleon, sweet viper, terrifyingly dangerous feline.  She slithers, malevolent attitude, malicious desire.  Sleek, smooth disarmingly secretive.  The target of her patient fury, her children's consciousness.  The soul maimed tigress patrols the fence line at the outer edges of her manipulation.  Prowling vigilance, senses sharpened, energy electric, dynamic potential ready for swift unsheathing.  Energized by anguished fear, self hate and insecurity. 

      She guards her psychic fragility with rapacious intent forever keeping any awareness from consciousness.  Her self loathing, decimated spirit, twisted needs; her real wounds, her real truth must not become known, especially to her children. A wound driven imperative.  Attack, connive, sweet talk, counterfeit sympathy, contrive affection, promote doubt, feign loving.  Applying tremendous pressure where and when needed to stop any one from glimpsing the reality she hides from herself.  If this line is breached, even momentarily, she will be forced to see herself and her true brokenness;  her venomous spirit.   This cannot happen.
               April 2001   Please read "Introduction" for explanation