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Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
Let's get one thing straight.
No one has a given right
To touch another person
Without permission
Or direct invitation.
Keep your hands
To yourself!

Thank you.
Just yesterday, a US reporter vented anger at a man for striking her backside during a live TV broadcast, saying "no woman should ever have to put up with this".
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
He left
A mark the color of red wine
Zinfandel
Placed high on cheek bone
Directly under her left eye
Such tears only bruising
It further

I didn't mean to
He simply stated

She left
A note the color of resentment
Charcoal
Placed atop bedroom dresser
Directly over her exiled contents
Such emptiness only reinforcing
It further

Once was more than enough
She simply stated
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
"Every survivor of ****** assault deserves to be heard, believed, and supported."

Rainwater of
the Elysian fields,
you assuredly do
like to drown your winged heroines?
You write them as strange
bitter narratives,
spurious to the calling
or as a bit of
bloodletting go.

The history formed around either
her breaking at the seams
upon the witching hour,
and her own home village
pillaging her claims
in the bonfire;
Or the arcane notion
no woman shall give testimony
against a neighbor
on the occasion he's a man.

Yes, she cried 'no' at the temple gate
Yes, she repeated such entreaties
But she'd also been into the ale
and wore an overtly
fetching carousal dress
you incensed.
Let her dam break
Let her try and flood us over
you mocked.
She was only a wayfaring angel
one reckless bird of passage
What type of wounds
could she inflict?

How easily you lost sight
of her will & halo
becoming stronger than fright.
Down she poured in antipathy,
until covering your gaping mouth!
It wasn't rain that killed you,
for you were the rain,
it was her blood calling out
that finally did you in...
When it comes to ****** assault and/or harassment, a woman's voice needs to be listened to and believed.

Inspired by the poem "Dark Sky, One Star," by fellow HP writer Ashly Kocher.
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
He loved to teach...

He loved to teach her...

He loved to teach her abject lessons
      in elevators and on stairwells.


She hated to learn...

She hated to learn from him...

She hated to learn from him the inherent
       danger of buildings.
Nearly 1 in 4 women in the United States have experienced severe physical violence by an intimate partner during their lifetime.
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
At a party, a gym,
anywhere the lighting is dim.
Along the shore, down in the subway,
during an overnight stay.
On Christmas morning,
by the fire where she's warming...

She is the hunted.

Amidst war, conflict, and revolution,
in the confessional during absolution.
For retribution or initiation,
after a movie premiere's celebration.
In the pool, the jacuzzi,
when drugged and woozy...

She is the hunted.

When did the female species
become a personal plaything?
An implicit right of lords, masters, and kings?
A gratification tool to sadists & seducers,
ego-fed athletes, even film producers?

She is the hunted...
in this cathedral of misogyny,
an unholy ground where hands
can never come clean.

At what age, Malusha, did your little boy
become a ******?
Malusha Malkovna was the mother of Vladimir the Great, who in c. 978 infamously ***** Ragnhild, the prince of Polotsk's daughter.
Chloe Haas Nov 2019
sometimes I imagine this body
cloaked in cation tape carved like a noose,
sometimes I still see his handprints on my chest,
sometimes I get this sense of fear
that he is still watching me,
and sometimes I still think I am there.
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
You're quite the trickster,
With tall pair of gin and tonic.

Shall we dance a set or two,
Before you assail me
In the dark, with objects
Stowed away in your
Glove compartment?

I promise to walk into walls,
Become pliable in your arms.

You even have my word,
I'll lose control of all
My faculties right about
The time you begin ******* me.

And I will wake up
In the morning,
With no memory
And no underwear.

You can then move
Carefree, on to your
Next hapless victim.

While I merrily go about
My day in the numbed womb's
Afterbirth of that last sentence.

Forever to ***** at
Flesh and membrane.

Sincerely quiet,
Candace
According to some statistics, only 42% of ****** assault victims report it to the police. The vast majority worry about being blamed for the crime. For every 1,000 cases of ****, only 6 will spend time in jail.
tinnnafish Oct 2019
I want to be confident but I dont know how.
Men have never told me I was beautiful.
They’ve never shown me I’m worth while just being me
I've always struggled with my self image. Constantly gaining and losing 20 pounds
I thought I had finally found a boy who genuinely thought I was beautiful
But boy was I WRONG! 

At 120 pounds my boyfriend called me fat when I was on top during ***
I rolled over and cried feeling so insecure
He just continued to **** me. Telling me I looked like a cow
He continued to degraded me whenever we had ***
This continued for weeks.
At 120 pound the same boy chose to slap me across the face so hard I fell to my knees.
Apparently telling him I had been ***** last week was somehow my fault.
To him I was now fat and disgusting
I started to believe him so I just let him beat me down.
At 110 pounds I was still too fat and he said I was disgusting to look at
He told everyone I was a ***** and broke up with me.
Now I can’t let a man see me naked without wanting to cry
I can’t look at myself in the mirror without hearing his words
And I sure as hell don't have enough confidence to stand up for myself
ah Mimi
a Maio
'n' thier
Mazatlán post
card but
a Zapatista
de Chippas
si hombre
a pilgrim
this river
has crossed
in the
arms of
Creole but
women in
Porte Inglés
still swim
Horace Silver -Cape Verdin Blues
tinnnafish Sep 2019
I think back to when it happened,
to that beautiful day that suddenly became so dark
The day when it all happened,
the day he destroyed who I was
Leaving me shattered.

I fought. I cried.
But it didn't matter how loud I was.
Nobody came to help me.

I still wake up crying,
Freeze when I see him,
And I’m still scared,
every **** day.

I still think I see him,
even while I'm safe at home.
I close my eyes and tell myself it’s going to be ok
But I can't help but feel him.

A year later I still feel him.
His grip on my wrists, the smell of alcohol on his breath,
The weight of his body pressed against me as I tried to get away

He just continued,as I cried.
It didn't matter how loud I screamed,
Nobody came to help me.
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