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They say that we're oppressed
Suffocating behind veils
And wear un-attractive bin bags
Shapeless and nameless

They say we're not allowed to be educated
And assume we can't speak English
That we're slaves to men
And we should forsake the medieval religion

The medieval religion that gave me life
And stopped female child infanticide
The one that treats me equal with no false illusions

The one that says that I should be respected as a person not a body
The one that first gave me rights
To vote and own property

The religion that commands me to seek knowledge and educate
To travel for this duties sake
And allows me to keep my name

Islam says that I should be covered
Like all things rare and special
Pearls and diamonds
You wouldn't flash your jewels for the taking

Nuns are admired for their devotion
And respected for their piety
Also clinging on to their modesty
Our models are Maryam or Mary

Not a cent that I earn has to be spent on anyone but myself
And the best of men in Allah's eyes
Is one who treats me the best
That day was like amcig
It gave me epho
You gave your olev to me
And I caught it like a srta
But every day is a new day, and a new tmie
Calls for new gebninis
And violent ndes
So our love ended like a redam
It was quick, shocking and lruec
And everything in my lefi now
Is mixed up like lavees
Blowing away in the wnid
To a better lacpe
A better ruhtt
And a better love.
Magic, hope, love, star, time, beginnings, ends, dream, cruel, life, leaves, wind, place, truth, love. For anyone who couldn't make sense of any of those words.
276
276
Young schoolgirls
Who just wanted to learn.

Taken under our noses
By evil men
Threatening to sell them to slavery
Because they don't believe they deserve an education.

276
Lives unaccounted for
Let the world search for these women
Let them stay strong

Give them a chance, Heaven
These girls are unsafe because of the beliefs of madmen
Don't let the villains win this time because there are

276
Young women
Afraid for their lives
A life of oppression looms over them
Their innocence so white, it's blinding
Bring them back

Fate?
Are you listening?
Spin your silver thread with care
And good toward these beauties
Sew a story with a happy ending
Because they need it
We want our girls back

Bring back our girls, **** it.




Bring back our girls.
This poem is in honor of the 276 young Nigerian schoolgirls abducted by the terrorist group Boko Haram. The threat of lives of slavery and oppression looms at them... because this group thinks that giving women education is wrong. Spread the word, and help bring back our girls.
plant me in another garden
so i'm not rooted here
She thought her outfit was beautiful when she put it on this morning.
And it was.
She donned the skirt with care,
Kitten heels polished and perfect.
Adjusting the turquoise blouse in the mirror,
She brushed her hair,
Put on her makeup,
And left her apartment early for a stroll.
She walked down the city street,
Head up, shoulders back,
A faint smile on her fresh face.
But as she neared the crosswalk,
She noticed the looks.
First came the looks from the men.
"Hey there, beautiful," one said.
"Nice ***," said another.
She ignored them all,
Choosing to cross to the other side of the street
So that they couldn't try to touch her.
Then came the looks from the women.
"****, she couldn't fit her fat *** into a minivan," said one.
"Who does that ***** think she is,
Walking around in that outfit?" Said another.
She ignored them all,
Choosing to keep her head down,
So that they wouldn't think she was promiscuous.
Finally, she noticed the looks from her co-workers.
"Does that violate dress code?" Asked one.
"If we had a dress code, it would," said another.
She ignored them all,
Choosing to head home early
So that they wouldn't laugh at her.
When she got back to the apartment,
She took off the skirt,
The polished kitten heels,
And the turquoise blouse.
She pulled on a pair of sweats,
And decided to watch Netflix instead of
Facing the cruel outside world.
 May 2014 Meghan O'Neill
Audrey
A bad day when her hair
Blew in the wind and he
Caught
Her, she too naive to see
His biting teeth, hard angles,
Sharp elbows and knees
Why didn't she run to the safety
Of soft bosoms and the swell of a hip
Like an ocean wave.
Hello, everyone.
I have created a solution to our confusion in a single word.
Dopsexual.
I made it up myself.
It has no crazy Latin prefix (that I know of)
But I am content with it.
In fact, you all should be,
Because you also define as dopsexual, in my book.
So does your friend.
And the kid behind you in math class.
Everyone is dopsexual.
We live in a dopsexual world.
Mwahaha.
No matter who you are,
Or what you define yourself as,
Keep in mind that you are also dopsexual.
What is the definition to this magical term, you ask?
Well, it
Depends
On the
Person.
Yeah, this poem is a bunch of crazy, so my apologies, people that are currently following me.
I'm not going to complain.
Life is pretty good right now.
I left all of your things in a bag outside-
You can pick it up on Sunday, by the way.
I cleaned the apartment-
The smell of Lysol has obliterated the scent of you.
I got a haircut, too-
I remember you liked how long my hair was,
So I got a pixie.
I sold everything you gave me-
Except for the silver wall clock.
It looks great in the kitchen.
I also painted the bedroom-
And bought new sheets, and cleaned out the closet,
And replaced that old chair you bought for me at a garage sale last Christmas.
So,
I guess you could say that I'm over you-
But when you called me last night,
I knew that you weren't over me.



Deal with it.
 May 2014 Meghan O'Neill
Audrey
Your soft white-tan hands never brush mine,
Only connected by our two spoons in a pint
Of ice cream (which is good:
In my broken state I could kiss you). Drown my confusing pain
In milky, sugar coldness,
Hazel eyes, blue eyes not meeting much per
My choice.
My memory blushes at his comments,
I can't think of you here as the
Same you who wore the denim shorts
We marveled at- they were very nice shorts
(He said you had a nice ***)-
But I was more intrigued by his sideways glance,
Brown eyes flickering slyly over not your ****, hips,
I felt undressed.
Like he was wondering whether the *** under my loose jeans
Was anywhere near those denim shorts.
Spoons dig through cookie dough chunks
In near silence,
Evening shadows lengthening across grass, sidewalk edges
More perfect and straight
Than any attraction I've ever had.
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