Author: La-Donya Henriquez

Foreign naïve natives, look down on the influx
From six other continents
Where this cold weather’s too much,
Where flowers are crooked, lop sided from the concrete
Litter, dirt, dust on every street
Corners shared when criminals meet,
Politicians, pimps, prostitutes are beautifully ugly alike
One mask worn in daylight versus the other worn at night

Timetables are nocturnal, yet convenient to me
My small town couldn’t comprehend half the things that I see
One street is a fruitful fountain, opposites’ a desiccated well
No consistent weather, train times, faces or smells

A human dutchie pot of nations,
Twisted mother tongues in a terrine,
Shopping streets named after universities, roads after kings,
Palace of a part nazi ‘queen’, who benefits from these royal things,
Overlooks my forced foreign ancestors finance the revenue she brings

Some call it a vacation,
Some call it run down,
Some call it the money capital
I love- hate London town.

Author: La-Donya Henriquez

Soapy water, soapy water
Let your bubbles console me like I am your daughter
Silly girls always forget what mama taught her
I’ve put my heart, body, mind and soul through slaughter

As I hand-wash, and clean my dirty laundry,
Memorising the unmentionable events before me
The memories of each man that owned them haunt me,

New panties for each new man is a new story
Soapy water, how I wish it would cleanse
My dirty spirit tainted by numerous men
They come and go, they came and went
No afterthought, cos after their thoughts weren’t heaven-sent

We share a bed; share semen, share sleep,
A part of my soul and my underwear they keep,
Under my skin is worn out, invisibly cheap,
A different man, same sentiment, a different week

May the soapy water swallow slackness down the sink?
Scrubbing my silkies from powder blue to pretty pink,
Watched as I made men grow, after I watched them shrink
Helplessly watched them go- without a trace or blink

Wash the dirt away, wash it deep
Rub it deep like they did when they went into me
Felt it in my arteries, to my kidneys
Temporarily filled so deep, so how do I still feel empty?

Can this natural resource clean the soul that I have left?
Can it ignore and provide for my loneliness,
Can it replace the high I receive from each caress?
My heart, soul, body, conscience is under arrest

Dear bubbles and steam, so warm and soapy,
Grip every unclean molecule like they did when they groped me,
Panties may appear clean, but undercovers need a cure
Will I always be far from pure, owning panties of a whore?

Description: was based partially on a character from a favourite book (White Lines- Tracy Brown)who had been through prostitution. I also envisioned what it would be like to tell a story from a perspective that is different to mine and my morals. Soapy Water which is used to clean clothes and dirty things is symbolised as a way to hopefully cleanse her soul.

Author: La-Donya Henriquez

Saving faces, ego’s strong,
History deep, his-story’s long
Our unintended story could compose a song
Then write an album; and go on and on
Pride is passion, yours is power
Defences got weak, by love- devoured
You frequent my thoughts, several times an hour
Feelings= Confusion, explains ours.

We’re here, we’re friends
Almost were lovers, way back when
The politics, will never end
We said bye before we began

Danced around the bush, feelings were hidden
Your fingers danced around my bush- forbidden
Emotions high, lust impending
Should have stopped pretending- more needs than befriending
You have her, I have them
You have issues, you were my problem
Drifted away, went off track
But you know, I know, we needed us back.

We’re here, we’re friends
Almost were lovers, back then
The politics, will never end
We said bye before we began

I like what it is now, pretty poker faces
‘Friends’ is what we call this situation which where placed in
We reminisce as we communicate,
But opening that past door will complicate,
Even further into our years of delusion
Our thoughts and feelings- we can’t elude them
Almost past lovers, present friends under an illusion
You + Me are: Feelings that equal Confusion.

Description: written about how feelings can complicate a situation, contrast with your thoughts and can happen without reason or sense- ending in confusion.

Author: La-Donya Henriquez

I have a pet fish.
It loves me so much.
It demands only to swim in my saliva.
Sometimes if the mood takes me,
I fill my mouth with spit,
Letting it swim around.
I can feel it skim my tongue,

Flickering on my tip
Excitable wrongness
I know it wants me to swallow,
Be patient.
I’m not ready for you to enter my body
Yet.