Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Apr 2016 Roanne Manio
NaNi
i painted a picture on my wall
painted with the blood from my wrist
i wrote love with the knife she used
the knife she used to stab my heart
three times is all it took
and now i stare at this masterpiece
painted from a piece of me
a piece of me that was left broken
no one able to see
that it took my entire life to create it

NaNi
 Apr 2016 Roanne Manio
NaNi
Midnight
 Apr 2016 Roanne Manio
NaNi
breathe slowly
feeling everything you are giving me
i close my eyes and breathe slowly
submitting to your demands
i begin to open myslef up completely
vulnerable
as you fill me with your loving energy
i am moved
with every breath, i take a step
eyes closed, you guide me
guide me closer to a path
a path to love again.

NaNi
 Apr 2016 Roanne Manio
Urmila
You speak to them like they're ****,
Address them with adjectives I wouldn't like to take,
Mock their misery, and laugh at their pain,
Act like you're their God,
When really all you are is vain,
And I wouldn't care,
Except fate has me associated with you,
Which is more of a shame than pride, most times,
And I'm a little more sensitive to people's emotions than your self centered, ugly heart ever could be,
I'd correct you, teach you right from wrong,
But I'm afraid you're going to sing your own song,
And fanned with my disgust,
Be even more rude to them,
The only thing you are capable of.
*******.
The most disgusting kind of people are the ones who judge others based on their economic status. They make me want to puke all over them.
 Apr 2016 Roanne Manio
Montana
I grow up
but you don't
Etched in a memory
Laughing
Bereft of ego
and adult responsibilities

I grow old
but you don't
Stuck in the amber
of a yesteryear
Forever fourteen
White teeth and sweaty palms

I grow hard
but you don't
Frozen by a lens
Smiling
Nothing but sunshine
Behind bright, brown eyes
New love, new love, where are you to lead me?
  All along a narrow way that marks a crooked line.
How are you to slake me, and how are you to feed me?
  With bitter yellow berries, and a sharp new wine.

New love, new love, shall I be forsaken?
  One shall go a-wandering, and one of us must sigh.
Sweet it is to slumber, but how shall we awaken--
  Whose will be the broken heart, when dawn comes by?
 Apr 2016 Roanne Manio
Mike Essig
Over the course of 64 years (and still), I have encountered so many women (including my still lovely ex-wife) in person and in writing who struggle with their looks. It seems to be an eternal theme that crosses generations. So, I decided to write this humble piece in reply.
There are some who would say I can’t write about women’s feelings because I am a man. A patronizing old, white man. I note their objecions, but I disagree. I believe humanity always trumps gender.
We live in an artificial culture created and controlled by advertisers. Not only do they sell us stuff, they convince us that we need it. Women are perfect targets for them.
So they have created impossible standards for women to live up to. You must always look like you are 25, young and thin. They tell you this is the key to being desired, even loved. As it’s impossible to be young and thin forever, they just happen to have the products that will “help” you. They want your minds so they can profit by manipulating them. They do a great job of it.
So the key to loving your bodies and yourselves is to take back your minds. This is difficult. You are bombarded with a barrage of words and images that say you are not good enough. If only you were younger, thinner, shaped like Barbie, not greying, had longer legs, bigger *******, wore a size 2, you would be happy, and — of course — men would desire you. You would never be traded in for a younger, sleeker model. So many insecurities to exploit.
But consider the difference between beauty and Beauty. Beauty is human, individual and eternal; beauty is abstract, mass and reliant on current tastes.
I have known many women of all shapes, sizes and ages who were Beautiful. That Beauty was expressed from their hearts through their faces and eyes. They radiated it. It was not dependent on my or any other man’s approval. It just was. So I know this can be done.
Fashion changes so there will always be new things to sell. To the current ad masters, the Gibson girls of the late 19th century would now be called fat. Sell them a diet plan and gym membership. The angular loveliness of the Venus de Milo too cold and boyish. Sell her cosmetics and plastic surgery. Mona Lisa, a dumpy Italian girl. So many things to sell her.
And then there is that intense desire to please men that begins with daddy. I often hear its echo even in the strident voices of the most ardent feminists. The advertisers trade on that. That’s deep. That’s very hard to overcome. That’s both an individual and a cultural problem.
But many women never seem to consider that a great many men aren’t dumb enough to buy the 25 and thin forever image and don’t really demand to be constantly pleased. They might actually be looking for intelligence, heart, affection and respect instead of a perfect ***. Not all, often not the young, but many.
At some point, you have to say no and mean it. You are not your age, dress size, cup size or waist size. Those are just outward manifestations of the true you. If someone rejects you on the basis of such ephemeralities, you are better off without them. You have to take control of your soul. No one can give you that except yourself. You have to live with yourself just as men have to live with themselves. Again, humanity trumps gender.
I unabashedly love women. They have been one of the great delights of my life. I love the difficulties and the differences. What a woefully dreary world it would be if men and women were they same. So, it pains me to see so many women in so much pain.
You are, first of all, a person and that is worth insisting upon. Insist. Demand. Escape, if necessary. Be the only you you can ever truly be. Then you will feel pretty. And you will be as pretty as you feel.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5dbshnvztGA

  ~mce
The words are right there, on the tip my tongue,
but I can't get them out  and I'm coming undone,
if I take chance, perhaps she'll feel that way too,
and I will whisper the words I love you.
Next page