Skip to main content

Menstruation: The Musical

Some my role model bi who may or may not have had first class says I can’t not hype things. It’s not my fault la. I discovered Frayed Jacket, and if you haven’t been there, it’s only because you haven’t had the data, and you’re forgiven. Monsieur Frayed writes with a candidness that’s almost uncomfortable. I suppose it’s because some of us like to live in a one-dimensional space, in some pink bubble, oblivious to what goes on within the blurred lines. And he doesn’t. And he writes it, raw and true, and painfully relatable. Reminds me of something I read about how writers must embrace pain and ugliness instead of running away from it. Oh, and he’s a really good writer. Makes you wonder how much longer you’re going to have to live before you get to where he’s at.

*

P.S. The following is definitely a musical if you read it with Christopher Plummer’s voice in the back of your mind. Or Joey B. Or, somebody.

The following is also what happens when you’re neither a poet nor comfortable working outside your comfort zone but your Dad buys a new modem and you want to try it out.



Menstruation: The Musical!

There comes a time every month when
A famous memory verse
Of crimson clothes and white linen
Is lived out in reverse.
A pang that draws a stark grimace,
That cramping when you sit,
Dribbling from a womanly space –
Good Lord, Menstruation’s hit!


Faces break out in fleshy zits
Breasts swell and grow tender
Girls might want to their own wrists slit
Not them – blame the vulva!
Shooting tendrils of fiery pain
Like someone yelled ‘Dracarys!’
Up to your sorry abdomen
Menstruation’s some mad virus.


It’s then a girl will trade her cash
To stock up on Naproxen,
Or Advil, Taabea – the mad rush
As each one picks her poison.
But do they help? These bitter brews,
Or they’re just placebos
That rob you and your mind confuse,
Ease not Menstruation’s blows?


And don’t forget the blood, that blood!
That glorious scarlet nectar
That sometimes gushes like a flood
Dispensing by the litre
At times it’s stringy, thick red goo
That clots and leaves in drops
When your legs part inside the loo
You hear Menstruation’s plops.


It doesn’t come too wahala
For those who have been active
With infant-making brouhaha
And used nothing protective.
Each passing day’s aridity
Is interpreted as
‘Ooh-la-la, here comes a baby!’
Then, Menstruation! At last!


Permit me to this question ask
My mind is all a-pondering:
Does lust still burn from dawn to dusk
When your wife’s in her bleeding?
Would night still find you embroiled in
A horizontal tango?
Or small blood peh, nose is wrinkling –
Menstruation means round zero?


Wait, something else plays hide and seek
Ahh, fear that makes you shudder
That in your pad there’s been a leak
That’s coloured your posterior
Tampons! Eish, fearsome devices
Much like some male organ
Round which your walls clinch like vises
Menstruation’s literal woman


The problem with writing this thing –
How will I now conclude?
A picture, or moral lesson?
Quotes from some random dude?
I’ll just log out while self-respect
Still has a place in me
But, ha! I with myself object,
Menstruation’s pic you’ll see!



*

Remember, Frayed Jacket.

Click.

I was going to end with ‘Meow,’ but Click sounds more…crisp.


Meow. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

What’s your Christmas like?

  What does Christmas mean to you?  No doubt, everyone will have a different answer to that.  Rest period! Christmastime is like 9 o’clock for tired millennials. We will use it to sleep. Not sure how it’s been for the rest of the world, but if you live in Ghana, you’ve seen shegey. Now’s the time to put your feet up on the table and relax, unwind, undo the stress of 2024, watch cozy television and sip a beverage of choice.  Danish cookie time! There’s no rule that it’s only at Christmas we should eat those fancy cookies that come in the sewing material containers, but let’s face it, Danish cookies hit different in December. So for some, Christmas is the period for indulgence, a time to stuff yourself with baked goodies (I love cake!), test the tensile strength of your bladder by drinking just everything, and visit every party.  Family time! Some people associate Christmas with reuniting with family. Many an introvert has had to suffer through phone calls and ...

Note to Self: Read. A lot.

More than you think you need, love.  Some creatives are inspired by nature. They look at a stunning sunset, the purples and blues and reds layering the sky, or fluffy golden ducklings following their mama. Then they break out their paintbrushes and knock out something wonderful of their own, or get out their computers and unleash a torrent of words, carpal tunnel syndrome be damned.  I do not get inspired by sceneries. I like them, mind you. I think cityscapes are awesome. Sometimes on my walks home I get giddy with delight, staring at the dreamlike radiance of the full yellow moon establishing its presence in the dark sky. But beyond the immediate beauty, nature doesn’t trigger me to make anything of my own. What gets my creative juices flowing is other people’s creative work.  Reading a good book. Watching a complex movie, or the occasional speculative fiction series. Good books capture all my senses, no kidding. My eyes actively see, not the words I’m reading, but the ...

To Move or not to Move

  That is the question. I’m not sure when this blog became a quarterly. Because how am I only updating this for the first time in over three months? Sorry that I’m asking you. I had to ask someone. Photo Credit: Kaboompics, Pexels. Now that we’ve gotten the apology of my inconsistency out of the way (🙈), let’s celebrate!  I’m 24! Woohoo! In the voice of Liesl from The Sound of Music, ‘I am twenty-four going on twenty-five!’ Yes, I’ve been twenty-four for a few years now, but let us concentrate on important things.  In slightly less incredible news, I set a goal to read 25 books this year. Thus far, I’ve read 24. It’s not because I’m disciplined, or that I’ve got so much time on my hands. It’s just proof of how much traffic I have to sit through to and from work. People have got to learn to stop buying cars and just…walk! The air would be so much cleaner.  As is my habit, when I read a good book, I’ve got to talk about it, give the mandem something to add to their TB...