whats it like to be a woman politician, giving a speech and then your period comes – based on a true story……………………….


Like Boadicea you bloodied those

Young men from your flood of

Womanhood, as they stood prepared

For battle.

Naive to the Mystery of two forces at work

As a Clay more, double-edged sword

Would sacrifice lambs for the

Greater good –

New layers of Blood and Bone

Will shed so the Goddess soil of the Earth

Is appeased.

Since History began men

Go to the slaughter and women nursed,

Died for them without any medals.

Even now, though the sign-up is lower

The taste for red horror and adrenalin

In danger is encouraged by virtual realities

Where witless propaganda assures

They’ll be heroes, strengthening ideologies and

Arms trading.

To maintain her pitch, Thatcher on an all nighter

With whiskey and soda plotting Falklands

Victory with her Secretary will go

Down in Herstory as good or better

Than any man, female backbencher or

Campaign director, with a mission to win

Right or wrong.

Did she bleed like you, looking into

Those handsome fresh faces

Under the unseen moon?

No Sacred Heart showed itself in

Her divinity – more like a Caesars.

Female warriors wear the purple today

Ask courageously for time out to deal with the leaks

At monthly intervals and manage moods with

Precision and the power of intuition.

At home in the Nations Senate you are

Keeping the bastards honest, Green and rational as

Significant others try to push legislation to control every

Womans health, wealth and influence past your

Red chair.


(c)copyright Julie McNeill




I was all ready to resign – whipped up(stressed)

And Blood showed its laughing smear

To halt me in my tracks of biological destiny.

Those ovaries that egg on desire and

Sex, and damn chemistry of hormones which

Delivers a rampage of confusion, in my mind(because)

I believe, I am certain, I am a Warrior

Against Injustice against me,

And I write and fight for the plight

Of the children and their loved ones

Stuck in refugee camps off – shore, in

Detention – seeking asylum.

Forget United Nations conventions, we

‘Fair- go’ Australians lead the way, compassion

Corrupted by fear of foreigners(xenophobia)

We always do forget we’ll keep repeating the same

Mistakes till we learn, have another Blood sacrifice

For the ‘Greater good’, the message

Comes from on high.

And so many believe them, who throw bombs

As if they were rocks from Davids sling-shot.

I’m all ready to quit my life on Earth,

This losing battle of Joy versus Despair,

Of wailing at the wall – gnashing my teeth

Through the night.

Then as Dawn birds sing, It becomes clear –

I am Fool each moon cycle

In an eternal card game, an archetypal

Female upon the stage, putting on a

Show to please, to provoke and

Do the best I know!

The screw does turn, awareness lightens like

Luna’s mood transitions and Death and Horror

Is committed in somebody elses

Theatre of War.

It’s 4am and I’m singing a song

For the preservation of my vocation,

To deliver us from Evil in the name

Of the God/dess from the depths

Of my Soul and genius of

My Ovarian cycle!



(c)copyright Julie McNeill






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