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svdgrl Jan 2016
Somewhere along the long stretching lines
of misogyny and misunderstanding,
******* and child-******* became
false-terms that were accepted by the masses
to describe small exploited human beings,
survivors.
and **** became a title boys and men aspired
to achieve, and not quite directly the
selfish manipulative sociopathic ****
that it really entailed.
Thank you, Curtis Jackson.
In case no one has screamed it enough,
It's January 2016 folks.
Let's place ourselves in some perspective.
The stories are never just one,
but I'm getting angry and I'm fortunate
enough to be able to speak.
I've got privileges that need to be checked,
too.
Let's check off the privilege that I haven't been abducted
or coerced at 12 by he who claimed that I was wise beyond my years,
and plucked out of my family to do his bidding
under the guise of a mature relationship.
He's 26, but all I can see is the fact I could be older
than the other girls. An old soul in a small pre-pubescent body.
Which is what they tell you to make you feel special.
Let's check off the privilege that
I'm not given those funny feeling drugs to help me
cope with pain of losing my "virginity" to a high-rolling old man
who was fond of his size.
Let's check off the privilege
that even if I do manage to escape the slavery that I'm put in,
I'm labeled as a *** and used up and too ****** up to really be better,
by both my family and my peers
You don't have to cover your ears and eyes,
because you think you can't see me.
You think I'm over seas or in some true detective podunk village
in middle America.
You think I'm not in your school-yard or
I wasn't the girl you teased for being pregnant in middle school,
the one that disappeared and never came back.
That I might not be your troubled niece who keeps hanging with the wrong crowd and going to boarding school this summer,
but she runs away from home before she's sent off.
But we keep blaming *** education, welfare and alternative schooling as the bane of our children,
all these ads for awareness and underfunded programs to aid them
are quickly shoveled under the thick heavy expensive rugs of the Kardashians and Wests,
the golden globes and the best dressed,
and those horrendous child beauty pageants.
Let's stop absorbing this filler material that we shovel into our
kids brains,
and maybe teach our little boys what it means to be privileged,
and to protect by learning to respect.
Our little girls how far they can reach if they learn to never second guess their worth.
It begins with us. Let's stop turning a blind-eye and shut ear,
because we fear making a commitment to the belief
that men and women should be equal.
That yes, not all men,
but yes there are women,
and our experience is not the only story that needs to be understood.
And everyone has a privilege that needs to be checked,
but check your own first.
January is human-trafficking and slavery awareness month.
It exists among us, all.
Let's stop being part of the problem and learn how we can help.
When the first words out of his mouth was
"Sup *****"
I knew a certain few things

1. He was not getting laid tonight.

2. None of us in this room know why he's the party leader,
All glancing at each other in awe
nodding like a hive mind chanting
yes, this man is in fact an *******,
no, i don't know how he rose to power
yes, he did just call us *****.

3. I could think of a million one liners that would earn me way more respect up front than that.

I don't know what I was expecting
walking into this basement

Maybe some small fame
The same small fame I get from getting on a stage for slam poetry
or being cast in a reality T.v. show
Or singing kareoke at my local bar.

Maybe for the free pizza
We've all been there.

And yes, maybe it was for the revenge.
the campaign slogan you stamped
recruitment posters with.
Join the evil league of evil!
Launch revenge against the modern heroes of today!

But when I sit down in this small fold up metal lawn chair,
in what is presumably his moms basement
Behind a projecter  (also probablly his moms)
Next to captain nose bleed
And princess *******.

I already don't have a whole lot of faith in his agenda

So when his opening line
Was "Sup *****"
Like that is some sort of impressive villanous monolouge peared down into one and a half words.
I lost any ounce of faith I had in this cult.
And decided to Usurp this "Party Leader".

Now you might be asking:
Why?
Why would you want to be the head of the evil league of evil?
Founded in this pre pubescent boys moms basement
Whos only followers so far seem to be captain nosebleed,
and princess *******.

Well
clearly
You don't understand.
Captain nosebleed is already under the thumb of princess *******.
I mean lets be real without princess *******
We're three dudes in a basement
Pretending to be super villans.

And you've been known to be pretty charming.

But in your friends evil lair.
Sorry
Moms basement.

You start to evaluate your situation
Gotta make a descision.

Are you fighting for Revenge,
or the small fame?
paprika Jan 2014
I angle my body in the way that flatters it best,
my chest parallel to your left shoulder
the curve of my vertebrae
insinuating an age
I have yet to reach.
I cross one ankle in front of the other
the slight gap in my thighs meeting at the knee
the swell of my hip noticeable, but not obtrusive
my pale hand resting on your desk.

I smile, my blood red grin bouncing back at me
in the circus mirror reflection
of your coffee mug,
my smug eyes armored with black,
my back arched, ready for the soft attack.
I watch your amber eyes
melt over me like honey
and I catch you in my pores
hording your attention.

It's him, I want to say
it's him I see in you.
It's him I see in every man over thirty
with a raven's eye for shiny new things.
He's the one who causes me
to ****** my reflection, greedily
from every mirror-like surface I see,
to find the flaws harbored on my body
to paint them over or starve them out
so this shape, glistening and new
will be pinpointed
and admired
and devoured.

And I watch, with horror, from far within
the things I've made this body do
the things I've made these lips consume
the ways I've become his ***** daydream version
of a fifteen year old child.

I'm *******, jailed.
Sarina  Oct 2013
jailbait
Sarina Oct 2013
he said
girls like me should come with yellow tape
police property, do not cross

and if that is because I am *******

I guess now
my skin should say: crime scene, do not

touch

because I am crying over men like they’re
still just boys.
I was at the bar big ******* surprise I know .
The pub was empty well aside from a few selected drunks but really there more like a modern art display that has to **** more than a toddler .

I sat there good Irish coffee in one hand laptop upon the bar my normal morning ritual
No I wasn't looking at **** I'm kidding of course I was duh what goes better with coffee then watching total strangers ******* a circus ****** but enough about family programming.

I had decided to take a change of pace no I wasn't watching barnyard babes instead get your mind out of the gutter you ******'s who do you think I am the owner of this site?
No I decided to swing by my true stomping ground the true home of Gonzo Hello .

I as always stopped by to check the tombstones of my amigos now long since passed .
They were all there on full display a reminder of a past I truly cant forget.
Then I decided to check out the new who's who of the new Hello .

There poems about Mom and Dad and that first crush and other assorted high school horseshit
that was as about as interesting as watching a marathon of twilight backed up by that closet case
Harry Potter honestly I thought that was a great **** name .

Just then I herd a school bus with it's annoying *** air brakes come to a halt outside the Pub
The doors flew open and fifty or so hobbits came wandering in the bar dear lord was it some sort of strike?

Hey there Gonzo I'll take a Bud Light and a bag of chips please.
Want a coloring book to go along with that Bilbo?
Hey look grandpa just do your dam job and get me a  beer okay?

This strange little hamster must have fallen out of his crib and cracked his skull on his power ranger if he thought I was some sort of man servant I swear do these little ***** get there manners ?
I looked at the group of micro mini people thinking deep and long  and sort of ruff with a slap on the **** before I dared to reply.

Okay you little ******* I'll bite but not that hard just who the hell are you and what in the **** are you doing here?
Were the new in crowd of the site were poets father time!

After almost laughing myself to death I decided to entertain the little hamsters .
Okay short stack but before you ask we don't serve milk and cookies and nap time is whenever you hit the floor.

Hey what's with this stupid *** jukebox there's nothing but music on here done by people who actually play music duh what kind of **** is this.
I believe it's actually called music or as your generations rappers like to call it three mile.
Samples to talk over to your generations ****** music.

Hey old man you better watch it what you hate rap?
No I don't hate rap I hate your rap  by the way number seven your banana split is ready.
Hey I got to pay the bills somehow people I haven't had costumers in like five years .

Look Gonz the leader of the diaper gang  spoke up.
I know were younger but we have a right to be here as well were just trying to express areselves and share are work is that so wrong.

The Jim Jones wanna be had a valid point but I honestly didn't care for my mind was on a much deeper subject the music played as in the corner four little mini ******* hotties in school girl outfits
danced away to some sort of teenage ***** they called music.

I was lost in my thoughts of um like deep poetic **** it's to deep for you to grasp .
I'm kidding I was just watching the show thinking hey I don't have to pay for this?

Gonz hey Gonz earth to Gonz  .
Well everybody I tried I guess we better leave I don't think he's interested  in us having a
open mic  poetry night.

The music had stopped and the mini ***** were almost out the door but like some perverted ninja
I stopped them before they reached it.
Hey what's this I don't want to hear a open mic night duh I'm all about hearing your poetry
especially these little stripper poetry were do you all work I just love your costumes .

Um there are school uniforms pervert the one replied .

Hey look Gonzo It's  cool man we'll just be gone I mean you don't want to serve us and all.
I had to think  fast there leader was talking them almost out the door and I really couldn't afford
another kidnapping charge yet again don't ask.

Hey wait gang I was just ******* with you hell drinks on me what's your name Brittney Veronica Kelly hell it doesn't matter just pull yourself up a high chair and name your  poison.
What will it be beer wine crystal **** I know how you kids love that **** Brittney maybe you'd like a smooth roofie margarita I make the best in town just ask Lily .

Hey man what about that jukebox ?
I pulled out my trusty 38 the everyone hit the floor   as the sound blasted through the room worse than Justin Bieber getting **** ****** in county.
Oh baby baby Nooooo but enough with the foreplay children.

Honestly I never knew a power wheels could go that fast .

***** that jukebox amigo that's what mp3 players are for  .
I blasted some sort of strange music and poured the drinks as the hobbits began to
lose themselves in sort of twisted movements they called dancing dear lord man
they could really hold there drugs .

Then came there spoken poetry crap slash wet T shirt contest .
The party was a mad mad scene  like MTV's real world except with actual humans .

The mini strippers slash go go dancers were just about to get on the bar when all the sudden the doors flew open and the dark Lord himself once again stood in pub.

The room went as silent as when a semi  insane hillbilly on a **** TV show does a interview
and people find out he really is a backwards dip **** .
The dark lord spoke Gonzo!

A voice from under the bar spoke up he's not here *******.
Gonzo get your drunken *** from under that bar before I make my man servant come get you.

I popped up faster than a seventy year old man on ****** .

Hey boss how's it been dam you look great can I get you a drink hey have you been working out?
Look you halfwit clean this party out right now I could ban right this very moment .
Hey now look Adolf I was trying to connect with the hip new younger crowd is all because
I believe that a young mind is a terrible thing not to be totally wasted .

Seize him the dark lord called out to his staff of four halfwits .
I fought hard but eventually feel to the powers of those lady truck drivers let me tell you
those ******* fight ***** it was almost like getting *****  ****** if only I hadn't forgot my whistle.

Beaten shaken without my speak being slurred I was handcuffed and taken away .
And as I was being taken out the door a young little hamster spoke .
Hey Gonzo can I have your laptop yeah kids there real wise ***** sometimes.

The young hamsters all sat outside the pub as I was loaded up in the pinto hey poetry doesn't pay kids.

Goodbye Gonzo we'll miss you said one of the stripper students whatever the **** they were.
Goodbye little ***** I'll think about you often well I mean as long as I can remember.

I watched as the kids were scattered to the wind and my Pub was destroyed .
As I was taken away riding into the sunset like some outlaw in the back of a really ****** car.

Was this the end for are brain dead hero?
Would Hello finally see the demise of the legend slash guilty pleasure of Hello.
Would Timmy finally get out of that well to question his own sexuality?

Would this write ever ******* end?

Tune In next week for the exiting conclusion kids.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming .

Stay Crazy.

                                                         ­           Fin
Aesthete Flower Jan 2015
My name is baby and you lean out of your car and spit at my feet it lands in a puddle in front of me and I am thirteen and in a suburban neighborhood on the way home from school and I gag and run with my backpack banging like the echo of your words against my back like you are chasing me all the way home.

My name is sweetie and I am fifteen in the city with my friends for the first time and we get a little lost and you follow us for a full block you name my friends honey and darling and why the **** won’t you talk to me!?

My name is nice *** and it’s two in the afternoon and I still feel my heart slam against my ribs because I am under a hundred and fifty pounds and I have weak lungs and weaker fists and while you saunter down the steps, swinging the beer bottle in your fist, my father who is walking behind me shouts, “she’s seventeen, you *******” and maybe I’m near my family but I don’t feel safe until we’re home again.

My name is ******* and my friend is laughing and we just graduated high school and we feel like we are on the brink of something beautiful and terrifying and she is in heels and about to throw up and you name her drunk enough and I have to physically drag you off and when we go home she cries for four hours because a night that should have been just teenage fun almost resulted in the end of her trust of humans.

My name is look at those **** and we are on a college campus and the boy I am with holds onto my waist just a little tighter while you drive up next to me. You name him **** and throw a bottle at his forehead. I can’t stop shaking until long after it’s over. He says “it happens,” and I say, “It shouldn’t.”

My name is **** girl and we are walking down the street. There are ten of you and two of us and you snap a picture when you think we’re not looking. You tell us to either come inside or you’ll **** us on the street. You all laugh like this is funny. This is a compliment. This is just something boys do to get ladies.

My name is little lady, my name is fine miss, my name is ******* and **** your friends, my name is look me in the face, my name is stop frowning, my name is smile, my name is why did you even glance at him you were asking for it, my name is this is a compliment, so I looked it up according to Oxford that’s “a polite expression of praise or admiration”  I think you've got the definitions mixed up.

My name is  pretty thing,  my name takes nice words and make them into bullet wounds.

My name is  nice body  and no girl I know has dated a man who catcalled her.

My name is  great rack  and it turns out that if you shout things at a stranger, they sound like knives more than flowers.

My name is  women like you never know their place  and every single “nice” thing you say to a woman is something you’d never utter to another man because you know that it’s derogatory.

My name is  princess  and  a reason to get put in prison  and if another man spoke to your mother, sister, or girlfriend like that, you’d **** him.

My name is  ****  and every time I hear someone raising their voice I am thirteen again and I don’t know who you are and I’m running home with a weight on my shoulders and your words like a slap to my spine and your laughter hanging in the air.

I am scared and alone and suddenly so small, and compliments are supposed to make me feel good not afraid for my life, compliments are a way of saying  “I care and I appreciate you and I thought you should know it,”  and if you really meant it as a compliment, you’d care about how I would take it - but you don’t mean it like that, you mean it to show off.

You mean it to make us object, you mean it to shove our names into your back pocket so you can tell your friends  “I saw the hottest little thing  yesterday”  and they can be groan about how we just walked away because you don’t see us go home with keys in our fists and all the lights on and we keep 911 dialed just in case and we triple-check our locks and we don’t fall asleep at all because your compliment knocked us over and took who we are

If we are all saying  “it doesn’t sound like a compliment, it sounds like a threat,”  If you really wanted to make us feel good - wouldn't you stop doing it?
Anna Cinna Mihm  Jan 2011
The 90s
Anna Cinna Mihm Jan 2011
I didn't exist in the 90s.
That's right, i just turned eleven.
Just his little slice of *******.

— The End —