Rattle Those Pots and Pans
A Story for the Women They Tried to Break
Today I was in deep thought! LOSING ALL OF OUR RIGHTS & FREEDOMS IN AMERICA IS A DYSTOPIAN NIGHTMARE!
“They told us we were the problem.
The battlefield. The bait. The blame.
But we remember.
We remember the trance they called romance.
The silence they called strength.
The charm that came with punishment.
This is not a love song.
This is a reckoning.
A rock ‘n’ roll dispatch from the kitchen frontlines.
A mythic anthem for every woman who was told she was too loud, too much, too wrong.
Tonight, we rattle those pans.
We break the trance.
We reclaim the sound.”
Rattle Those Pots and Pans
A Story for the Women They Tried to Break
They told us we were the problem.
The war of the sexes,
We were the battlefield.
The blame.
The bait.
The body count.
Rattle those pans.
Break the trance.
We are not your saints, sluts, or chance.
We were naïve to cruel intentions.
To men who seduced with charm
And punished with silence.
Men who raped,
Who lied,
Who ran around
And called it love.
Rattle those pans.
Break the trance.
We are not your saints, sluts, or chance.
We wrote them poetry.
We bore their children.
We moved cities, changed names,
Rattled pots and pans
In kitchens of compromise.
Writing dispatches.
Setting fire to the script.
We are not monsters.
We are not victims.
We are mythic.
We are many.
We are sovereign.
They called us sluts.
Pawns.
Baby makers.
Too white.
Too loud.
Too much.
Rattle those pans.
Break the trance.
We are not your saints, sluts, or chance.
Their mothers practiced voodoo and Christianity.
Their fathers were ghosts.
Their politics were guns and grievance.
They hated Jane Fonda.
Blamed LBJ.
Feared John Lewis.
We were not supposed to be sovereign.
We were supposed to be barefoot and pregnant.
In the city of LA,
In the Valley,
In America.
Rattle those pans.
Break the trance.
We are not your saints, sluts, or chance.
Now in 2025,
The white Christian nationalists
Are back at it again.
Back to 1950.
White picket fences.
Three kids and a dog.
No rainbows.
No resistance.
They hate women.
They hate poor people.
They hate color.
They hate boundaries.
But we are still here.
Rattling pans.
Writing dispatches.
Setting fire to the script.
Rattle those pans.
Break the trance.
We are not your saints, sluts, or chance.
Fight or flight became my lullaby.
Now in 2025,
The white Christian nationalists
Are back at it again.
Back to 1950.
White picket fences.
Three kids and a dog.
Barefoot and pregnant.
Get in the kitchen.
Rattle those pots and pans.
Rattle those pans.
Break the trance.
We are not your saints, sluts, or chance.
written, created, edited by
Vicki Lawana Trusselli
Trusselli Art
copyright 2025
Today I was in deep thought and a little blue. The democracy of the USA is sadly turning into an authoritarian state of a dark dystopia. We are losing civil rights, WOMEN'S rights, freedom of speech, and declining into an oligrachy. The reign of King Rumpty Dumpty and his group of liars, cheats, thieves, child molesters, KKK, white Christian Nationalist patriarchy, and cons will destroy America. The people at the bottom will be under a dark cloud of death. Healthcare premiums are going up across the board. EBT is being cut in November across the board. If you are lucky and you have money then you are blessed. I am low income with many health issues. Being a Virgo I worry about my future at 76 years old. If you are cookie cutter boot licker for Rumpty then you are a Nazi Nut. Peace out!
About the Creator
Vicki Lawana Trusselli
I am 76 year old California mythic storyteller blending lived truth, technology, and sovereign survival into multimedia art.
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