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June 10, 2011 / missmarymax


The following slam poetry experience may not be suitable for work, supporters of outdated heteropatriachal constructs, or those expecting porn.  Discretion advised.

Full text below the cut.


Since baptism buried beneath this burden
Written on my body but embodied in my name
Mary, the same two syllables split in two directions
Holy Mary mother of god, pray for us
Sinners; my single female body splintered
Evermore into the virgin and the whore
The ice and blow job queens, respectively
Mother or Mistress, Fast or Frigid
The Prude or the Promiscuous

Homemaker, homewrecker
Fuck-up uptight
Prone to hook-ups
Not hooked up right
Lateblooming plowed
Free milk, stubborn cow
Harlot, hard-to-get
holiness incarnate, carnal
Skank, cardinal saint
Magdelene, Mary

We interrupt your regularly scheduled binary
To call bullshit, submit our evidence
Starting with the etymology: Mary,
the Latin they’ll tell you translates to bitter
A term used to tame the complexity of water
The white wave’s buoyancy simplified eternally
Into its inability to quench
My acumen tapered to its tendency to sting
That girl’s got a soapbox, they say
As if soap and voice aren’t both cleansing

But Mary, at its root means water
The immensity of a relentless sea
Saltwater, the basis for all things bodily
Tears and sweat shed equally
In labor and in lust
These same hips bucked in the same thrust
This same neck bent back in the same scream
Nipples harden to nurse
The same body that makes milk makes cream

So why this tendency to declare dichotomy
our deity, sacrifice complexity;
edit down queerness and morality
To a one-size-fits all sexuality
Or lack thereof;
Who do I gotta screw to be allowed to love?
Who do I gotta screw to be allowed to love?
Who do I gotta screw to be allowed to love

Say it with me
Let’s fuck purity
and cleanse fucking, simultaneously
Fall to our knees and bleed
The wine back into water
Stretch like a strait between the parted seas
Let’s be saints and sluts, both, and,
neither, equally

As for me,
I answer to Mary but question as I
The Roman, they tell me, translates to one
Mary, the plurality you cannot subdivide
Mary, at least two lips, electric, unified
Plied open by this scream
YES Virginia
I require room
I have longed for centuries after not pen but page
For space to stake a hold in my own breadth
They say saltwater cannot quench
I say
I crave
Its depth



Leave a Comment
  1. Jen McCorkel / Jun 21 2011 3:04 pm

    WOW! Thats rocks!!! You kick Ass! Do you perform somewhere live?

    • missmarymax / Jun 24 2011 6:06 pm

      Aw thanks, sweet! I’ve been talking about performing somewhere live for years but never quite got it together. (For “it,” read: the practical points and the guts.) So at the moment: no. 🙂


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