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B Chapman  Oct 2017
Me Too
B Chapman Oct 2017
Eight-
In a general store,
the middle of nowhere.
I stared at toys,
oblivious to the stranger too close.
A hand on my backside,
a rub and squeeze.
The cops huffed,
'are you sure it wasn't an accident?'
'Is it really that important?'
Suddenly I knew shame.

Twelve-
Last day of school,
cornered in an empty classroom
by my lifelong bully.
He tore my pink shirt,
grabbed me where Trump would have.
My father helped.
Did what he could.
Told me it wasn't my fault.
But the teacher,
a male who never liked my voice,
groaned in private,
'this will ruin that poor boys life.'
But what about me?

Sixteen-
A class full of people,
feeling pretty as a rare treat.
A boy with a knife
sitting too close,
hand inching up my thigh.
A malicious smile
with a dangerous whisper,
'spread your knees.'
I never told,
It had hardly mattered before.
But that's the last time
I wore a skirt to school.

Eighteen-
The officer taking my prints
made me cringe as he lingered.
His compliments made me shudder
but I told myself I was paranoid.
Leading me to a cell
he offered me a private room
leering as he mentioned
I wouldn't feel alone.
I almost laugh now
at his offer to pay me with juice.
But a year later at the hearing
his lude claims were loud enough
for everyone to hear.
A court room full of people
heard him brag about things
he never did.
Only one person shut him down
without even a word.
Simply a glare of digust
that I was too scared to give.
Poetic T May 2016
Her father always thought the best,
but a secret lied behind her perfect façade.
Needle,
thread,
puncture
wounds in-between toes to hide the deeds
that were done. she was delirious in actions
as in the woods she wondered
trails
illusions
thoughts
not of a lucid mind was opened up.
Her father thinking the worst searched
in vain for her beauty. But a castle unknown
came into view, as he wondered in thinking
she had sought shelter in the beleaguered place
"Beauty,
He spoke but not a noise was uttered, nor a breath
could be heard. He lingered in views of stately rooms,
how had this place never been seen.
Truth of thought has a funny way of seeking those
who unwittingly pursue its need. As in to a bleak
and dark room he stood, he lit the light with flame
in hand. A crunch underfoot echoed through out,
cloth,
bone,
skulls
littered the expanse of this room. Gnawing marks
of teeth clenched deep, but others yet
to decay. Like rag dolls used as some form
of twisted play things, fear etched in there
features as death granted them a moment of
relief from what used them as a novelty before
that final laceration ended there breath.
Digust,
Horror,
Fear
as he yearned to leave such a place of
lingering death. When appeared young beauty
Worse for wear, father what are you doing in such
a place? I looked for you as it's been two days.
But then without forewarning its cold
hands clasped around her fathers throat.
Heed my warning as death waits for your father,
for things he wondered upon must never be spoke.
Beauty stepped back, her hand grasping the handle
But it was already sealed, the mirror on the wall did
utter,
proclaim,
announce
that the door was not opening as the key
was but a refection of self. With that she threw her shoe,
Its heal shattered the reflective aura and it bleed reflection
upon the surrounding area. With but an action the fathers
neck was but a twig snapped in haste.
His cry was pitiful and last words expelled "Why,
Beauty ran through the garden roses cutting her
with there thorns, her legs weeping she became faint.
"Awaken,
"arouse,
stimulate
oneself before my patience carves seconds in your
subtle flesh. Startled and not in denial of
What was craved, but nothing could coax her
from this debilitating feeling.
She arose, shivering, sweating, it took this
as unbridled fear. But beauty feared no one
she had done, seen things to coax a next high.

"Do you not morn the falling of your father girl,

"He was nearly of his time,
"We all kiss the thorns the rose never stays fresh long,  

A strange look happened upon his sunken eyes,
You are not like any other I have guested here
at my beckoning before. Due to your fathers sight,
you are a guest of no leaving, a bed is made,
wearing's of your taste are in the wardrobe.

Whispers clung to the walls as face ebbed upon
her hearing dinner is served madam,

"What the hell are you,
"Were those within the walls,
"Hurry up miss he doesn't like waiting,

Upon the long table did vast meals endorse,
eat up, have your fill.
With appetite in her eyes she lusted after such
morsels never had such graced her homeward plate.

"Why do you linger in this place,

"I'm cursed with in these walls, gardens
once I permitted my self importance and
walked beyond the chimes of my gates arch
and now my features  are what your eyes linger on,


Silence decorated the room after that, as neither
did ask any unwarranted words expelling out,
His eyes lingered on here beauty, could she be that
which could undo this curse of vanities misgivings.  

Time passed her sweats had past her cramps
that were like a thousand knifes within her
veins calmed and she made the most of this place.
Walks upon freshly cut hedges, these little
Fixtures of horror jagged glasses that
would slit a wrist with a wrongful gesture now
seemed harmless enough.

But as though opposites did attract and
yearning for company other than self.
She took walks upon the gardens,
In disrepair was one such place and what
seemed like roses was something else.

"What are you doing here,

As her breath hassened, and thoughts consumed
of what could be. But clean she had been for
going on months and days.
But the earge grew as night turned to morning,
she loved him but was this enogh for
the kiss of this old friend was once so sweet.

He knew in his heart he had changed no longer feeding
on the flesh of mortal men, he had mirrored his
thoughts of loves bloom on his heart.
But could one love someone this hideous in features
only this moment would tell.

"Beauty, I have something to mention,

But the house was silent the features on the walls
ascended through out to find the beauty that
meant so much to all that were apart of this house.

Not a single breath was found,
neither by shadow or mouse. Had she left?
No why now, her heart was entwined
with his but he could not feel her essence
no beat was echoing out.

"My beauty, my love,

Moments past as a scent was picked up,
But it was not of life but of decay.
He found her with the needle cracked on the floor,
Her features of
bliss,
horror,
death
was her lover now, and it taken her away.
He saw a note scrunched in her hand,
he read it out in thoughts he was lost,

"My darling beast,

"I have noted your thoughts towards me,
and I lingered on them as I must.
But you are a beast and only for life
did I do as I must.
I was dead inside when you were upon me,
my yearning or horror I hide in lust.
I could not escape you, eye were upon
me even in sleep I was never alone such mistrust.
So now I leave this place a free woman.
not in love, not in fear, in life I was a prisoner
but in death I am a free bird no longer an empty husk,*


He reeled in disbelief at what her words spelt out,
Was he truly that horrifying even to touch.
he held her in his arms, carried her to the gate,
and looked into the distance seeing the sun setting
He raised a hand a cleft her heart out.

"You took this from me world, but I take it back,

He threw her to the dogs that waited eagerly
for flesh, they had not fed on this delicacy
for so long, While she was here no one was to touch.
In heartache he walked to the arch and carried on straight.
His figure was contorted and with one final out spelling
of grief he was consumed in embers then gone to ash.

All who had fallen from grace when he was made
beast returned to normal form. But happiness
was a short miracle , for all were of sin for what
had taken place, behind walls and doors as
all were consumed and the palace of a king
now burnt like the sun set. Only gardens and
ashes were a testament of what was. But love was
never a happy ending when a persons true features
were surfaced, how can you see past that to true love.
Madelin  Nov 2012
not me
Madelin Nov 2012
This is the stuff of pamphlets,
Stories books and magazines tell
(But always about people who aren't you)
About the girls who walked alone --
Drank too much --
Overpowered.
Not me.
Me -- athletic, fit.
Even feisty, some might say.
I'm not me now, though.
I'm less than a person.
I think of things that can't move --
Garbage bags, hotel pillows.
Me -- quick-witted, smart.
I think of things that can't think.
Can't breathe. I can't.
I wish I couldn't hear.
Choking on my own digust --
With who?
I am not a person.
KD Miller Feb 2015
2/19/2015
note: this poem reflects my political views. I don't support puerto rico's independence but i codemn the way the USA has treated it. If you're not familiar with PR's political situation or don't follow Puerto Rican centric politics you'll be lost af. Anyways this is basically the day to day life i had when i lived back in PR, and my thoughts.

I hate americans.
They ask me, especially the independentista youth,
that think they're special and especially, communist revolutionaries,
"why? after all you are a Rich Kid."

Nah, you don't understand.
coming out of the stairs of St. Johnnies with my uniform
i see them walking with their cameras and tanners
me filling up with a very real digust.

and when I sit on the metro train to
San Patricio (and what a life, when I see the drug addicts on the metro with nowhere to go and the industrial hills of Catano)
I only see my fellow puerto ricans and i am relieved.

escaping the americanness of Ashford Ave.
and when I get to Los Meadows I tell my friends,
the Rich Kids,

How is it that those sons-of-*******
can destroy our grand isle,
with their nuclear garbage

their doctors ruining our native women
and, from their offices in the mainland, teaching us english
just to send the little country peasants of Arecibo and Juncos

to die in their wars? and then
they have the audacity
to take their things and visit our beaches?
I woke from my nap
And I stretched back
And made a weird noise
And I thought
If you were here
You'd find it adorable
While every other man
Would probably
Be taken aback
And look at me
With digust or
Unappealment.

I thought about you
And how you made me feel
So special.
Seema Oct 2017
She stood in the dark
With her long raven hair
Waiting for her prey
To grab her share

Clitching teeth, as thunder roars
Her eyes now glowing, red
As the heavy rain pours

Wait...it looks inhuman
The sharp claws on her hands
A disguise or her true form
Growls, as she lands

Her hunger raging
Like a wildfire
The prey’s blood must quench
And putout the flaming desire

Ready to attack
Without any remorse
Her full attention on the prey, of course

She jumped in full force
To **** with one shot
Not thinking of a power
The mighty prey may have got


A flash of lightening
Falling in between
Both looked fierce and frightening

The darkness creeped the night
As the war went on for hours
From far far away
I was watching with my invisible powers

The deeper the night, the intense the fight
In the land of "the half beings"
Who will shed a light?

Since the waging fight began
None backing to retire
The prey in digust anger
****** eyes, shooting fire

Instinct took over, on the prey most
Survival is a must
Fighting darkness with any priced cost

What will unfold from this battle?
Only time will tell
Either darkness will win or the prey,
One will survive from this bombshell...*



@jobiranyc
©sim
Rolling reels, spilling imagination. Thank you Jobira for keeping up with my imaginative theme and making this poem a success :)
Arcassin B Aug 2016
By Arcassin Burnham

I am stronger than open seasons in red skies that burn as
Bright as the lies you tell me,
A sorry excuse for a friend that I will never claim,
You claim that you love me , your a ******* liar,
Not a fan of your attire,
Making bonds with a ******* in your own digust and your
Taste for lust,
I can only imagine how you sleep at night,
Fighting,
The illusion that your love for me was valid,
But really not quite,
Your right! I'll never see the light,
I may not be perfect but this is way out of hand,
If you wanted to get back at me you could have dated my friends,
But your mind is that of a slow moving turtle or sloth,
I'm always two steps ahead of you when you tell me *******,
Now , don't say I ever told anything when he cheats on you,
I can't believe I wasted years trying create a life with you,
I have my reasons for why I am the way I am,
But you lack consistency in all the attention and glam.


/


Turn on the lamp and stray from the darkness within,
I don't know why we are all striked and covered with sin,
You're losing coverage from all the peers around you and,
Trying to **** some time without a single cringe,

°°°°°pull the wool from my eyes°°°°°
°°°°°Adventurous with demise°°°°°
( No matter what you dooooo) °°°°°have to-stay in the light°°°°°
°°°°°all your life , had to fight°°°°°
°°°°°african American boy with some weaknesses°°°°

Weaknesses that will get demolished and looked after
So they won't occur again with all the good progress I've
Been making,
I've been,
Putting guards up obtaining comfort in my own surrounding,
Looking after myself is the number priority occurring.
©ABPoetry2016


http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2016/08/the-right-way-2-official.html
kk Jan 2019
My relationship with mirrors is strained.
When I look I usually see what's probably
myself. I look better, probably, than before
when I slept no more than
3 hours every night
and spluttered through life
choking on words and stumbling over
misconceptions.
Now all of that is merely a buzz
trampled by a maximum dosage of meds
that let me function in life
but make everything a bit numb.
I much prefer numbness to personal nihilism.
Other times when I look in the mirror I
don't see much of anything.
When I'm in public and
the innocent looming presence of others
threatens my mind's fragile ego,
I see them abstracted in my periphery,
their glinting knives of eyes
sparing me a passing glance
(She's just smiling politely,
but my skewed eyes glimpse
faux teeth and behind them gargled, ****** judgements. I don't judge the digust.)
and I skim over a transparency
of myself in the mirror.
Too bad I can't actually disappear.
(Or maybe I can.
But I try to stray a little farther from those thoughts.)
Sometimes I feel heartbreakingly
ugly in that mirror. Lonely. Unwanted.
Even with all those doting eyes on me.
I feel relied upon for something. To be
the one who makes them laugh. The one
who fills the silence. The one
who works hard even with setbacks.
(Do they even expect that of me? Or do I?)
When
in reality
I'm none of those things.
Not truly. Not really.
Theres always that tug of opposition in me,
that feeling of ingenuity, a touch of facade.
But I don't want them to see an ugly side.
The side that mistrusts violently,
that lies stagnant with thoughts screaming.
Clamming up in the face of oppressing quiet.
The side
that rears its head when
they look a little too close.
Maybe it's my truest self, that broken side.
I wouldn't know. There
are too many walls. I can't even break them
myself.
Or maybe I've broken them all,
but I'm blindfolded,
feeling around an abyss with my eyes
wide open,
vision obscured by skin-tight fabric.
I could just,
untie that knot behind my head,
spiral further and further down--
just to feel something else--
But it's safer in this uneasy emotion.
I dont know if I'll ever find myself in
the mirror again.
Ravenlimit  Dec 2021
Digust
Ravenlimit Dec 2021
You disgust me.

Wondering snake

Full of deceit.

I'll bound your hands and gut you out

Wretched, filthy, you stink.

You blinked

Cut your eyes open

You mustn't miss a beat.

Forced to watch as he hungrily stuffs me with meat

Warm and juicy he stretches me loosely

I moan
I cry


Laughing,
as I watch you die inside.


You weren't so displeased when the woman wasn't me?

Please

Don't stop looking at me.. Baby


Watch this bull take me for a ride


Hot fluid building up inside


Positions you were too small to reach


Forbidden territory

My juicy fruit dripping down his cheek


Laughing as I watch you struggle to touch your ****.

Your fantasy is finally a reality.

If only you didn't disgust me

Then it wouldn't be the last thing your eyes would see.
Chloë Fuller  Nov 2014
low
Chloë Fuller Nov 2014
low
i've been so lost
to the point
of
digust
of myself
and you
making me
so low

— The End —