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some days I am more
wolf than woman
and it’s hard to hide my fangs.
I’ll hiss and snarl and spit the blood
of those who trespass against my land.

some days I am more
wolf than woman
and it’s not that hard to understand.
I cannot be tamed or caged or chained,
I am the alpha of the pack.

some days I am more
wolf than woman
and there is no strength I lack,
but hiding and camouflaging
with the sheep
does not make my fur more black.

most days I am more
wolf than woman,
and you’ll find me bathe
underneath the moonlight.
in the slightest of mannerisms
you’ll discover, it’s not that
easy for me to hide.
hunting and guarding and marking
until the weary day turns to night.
in the way, that I tread the land
these claws covered by a pretty coat
and smiling- hah, no that’s the
predator baring her fangs to show you
how it’ll dig into your throat.

more wolf than woman | shevaun stonem
where's my fellow wolf pack?!
Want to be alone.
Want to be at home, I,
Know I can't go now no matter how much it grows,
The pain...

It shows it's face time and time again to make me pace back and forth to forget what was said and cut the cord or where and who I am!


who am I?
and why.


Rather go hungry than speak to someone right now,

i'm starved.
I'm starved...
I'M ******* STARVING for a piece of this peace that it seems that everybody but me can just pick up and breathe....

But I can't see me...
So how could I possibly know...
this time in Vienna
in my little nation's capital

a young Muslim still in search of himself
believes he has a mission
to **** as many infidels as possible
to avenge insults to Mohamed
and Allah by all those secular Westerners

armed with attack rifle  handgun & machete
he shoots his way through the Vienna party mile
not knowing whom he attaccks
killing four  wounding twenty-three
driven by his duty to defend Allah

never questioning why the Almighty would ever need
to have his infinite greatness defended
by a confused youngster's shooting of innocents
Apropos the attack in Vienna on November 2, 2020
Was it all took a speech?
Then there were the threats, then there were the deaths.

Was it all due to S. P memorial?
14 day ago…

“Drop drop’ red rain sliding, 
In the back street during his morning walk.
Father Ian paced steadily, it was a grey morning,
early November.

Imagined dialogues
Occur in mind, 
a rendezvous with himself 
Hauled suddenly from solitude,

'How now,' Father Ian addressed the empty hall
Counting there, 9 times knives 
Attacked marks, smelling of burning anger.
This was how the school hides indiscriminate ******.

“Fight fight?”  against blue pallor,
Of hell, and not the fiery part.  

'Knives knives,' Father Ian mocked with an Atlas shrug,
'Don't I warn you to stop those ridiculous fables.
In silence, they come alive,
Of dusted harps or gnawing fear:  Simply tells

'What mission?', questioned from Father Ian, 
“Mind as the host, what just epilogue 
Would these too hollow to be chased?’
What flawed earth-flesh could cause this saddened pass?

'There sits no higher court
Than man's transparent soul’.

Attack, Attack, shocked, Father Ian cried
'Can‘t they run and hide, to get inside
Like a last storm-crossed leaf?  Best ghost swore to the priest:
Why again knives, carried at Paris and Nice?
Dedicated to a set of serial terrorist stablings in France, 2020
I went down to the shore one night to see if I could see the sea.
But there was nothing but darkness blowing in the breeze.
I could not hold a candle to the fury of the night.
I could not seem to see the sea crashing in with might.
All I felt was Darkness falling down on me.
The heaviness brought me to a point upon my knees.
I begged her for forgiveness if there was anything I could do.
She said there's not a thing this is the end for you.
That's when the wind picked up and I staggered to my feet.
I caught one more fleeting glimpse of the Blackness from the sea.
It took all I had to muster every inch of fight.
To stand against the queen of Darkness dancing in the night.
She threw a blow a glancing hit that push me towards the sea.
I drew back made my attack and brought her to her knees.
She stumbled down to the ground and slid Into the Night.
I said is that all you got you ***** I've got some more to fight.
Yes you may be Darkness you may have yourself some heart.
But I am the divider of your ways the bringer of the light.
You Thought I was a peasant but you are no match for me.
So now I banish your soul to Hell below the deep blue sea.
Rosie Toes Oct 23
it's starting.
A slight burn in my eyes. The tears, gathering. My heartbeat, irregular. My legs, weaken. My hands, tingle.
it builds
what do I do?
should I try to fight it or will it be good for me to let it out?
when will someone notice?
is this all in my head?
everything get's blurry.
I feel nothing and I feel everything.
the shaking begins.
I start to mumble, audibly, though I try my best to fight it.
the world get's muted, the voices yell louder.

and now, I have to wait it out
one of my anxiety attacks
Sarah Flynn Oct 22
when I was asked to talk
about my trauma,
I opened up again and
let the words spill out.

I didn't tell them how
badly it burns when
they come back up.

I talked about depression,
about feeling alone,
about attempting suicide.
I talked about deaths
and pain and everything
that I have witnessed.

and then I began to
talk about my assault,
and the men who still
haunt my dreams.

I started by saying,
"the first time I was *****..."

I paused there.

I realized I said
"the first time"

meaning there was
more than one time.

there was more than
one hospital visit,
more than one police report,
more than one court case
that went nowhere.

there is more than one
****** still walking free,
living his life and not caring
that he ended mine.

I said it so ******* casually,
the same way you'd make
small talk about the weather.

I said it like it was normal.

I suddenly felt nauseous.
I needed to spit out more
than just my words.

I spent the next hour
hunched over a toilet bowl.
I think that my body was
trying to ***** the memories
out of my system.

I said it like it was normal.

I said it like it was
an everyday occurrence,
like it's something
you hear about daily
and no one bats an eye.

I said it like it was normal.

I felt so sick, like
I had been poisoned.
I climbed into bed and
didn't get up for days.

I said it like it
was ******* normal,

and the worst part was
when I realized it is.
S R Mats Oct 18
Dear pussycat, you clever little beast
To hide the paws that hid the claws
That shred my pretty face.

Feline, fooled as I was to forget
Within your blood wildness simmered
Just beneath the folds and crease;

Of eyes that looked asleep!
Never put your face close to the face of an unknowable cat.
Sarah Flynn Oct 18
my hands are in your hair
and your hands are around my neck,
and you’re choking me,
but I’m letting you choke me.
and it’s hard to explain
because I am not in control, you are.
but I am choosing to let you have control,
and that choice makes all the difference.

my ****** did not listen
to my voice saying “no,”
but he did not take away
my ability to say “yes.”
I am a **** victim.
I am a woman who enjoys ***.
I am allowed to be both.
and if you can’t understand that,
you are part of the problem.
Sarah Flynn Oct 18
every 73 seconds
an American is sexually assaulted.
these statistics do not shock me anymore.
1 in 5 American women have been *****
at some time in their lives.
1 in 71 American men have been *****
at some time in their lives.
in an average year,
there are 433,648 reported
rapes in the United States.
these are only 2 of those stories.

it does not shock me
when my friend calls
and says that she
doesn’t remember
what happened,
but she woke up
lying in a puddle
of her own blood.

it does not shock me
when she’s sobbing
so loudly into
the phone that I
can’t make out any
of her words.

it does not shock me
that I don’t need to
hear her to know
what happened
last night.
I can hear the fear
in her voice.
I can feel her pain.
I already know.

it does not shock me
when I see her sitting
in my passenger seat,
and I automatically know
that she is not fully here.
she left a part of herself
there on that mattress.
looking over at her,
I know that right now,
she is beginning to realize
that she lost something
that she will never
be able to get back.

it should have been hers
to give away,
but it was stolen.
she is the 1 in 5.

it does not shock me
when we walk past
the Auntie Anne’s
in the mall,
and my friend
collapses at the smell
of cinnamon
and sugary pretzels.

it does not shock me
when he apologizes
over and over
and tells me that
he was *****,
and that his ****** was
chewing on a piece of
cinnamon-scented gum.

it does not shock me
that I am holding him
while he shakes and cries
on the floor of the mall.
I want to hug him tighter
and keep him close to me,
but I know that right now,
his mind is already gone.
he feels like he is still there.
he tells me that it feels
like they are hurting him
all over again.
I can’t hold him
tight enough
to bring him back.

it does not shock me
that he waited so long
to tell me this.
it does not shock me
when he says that
he didn’t think it
mattered because
he is a man,
because so many
people have told him
he should’ve liked it.

he does not tell them
his rapists were
six grown men
at one time,
but they wouldn’t
care even if he did.
he is the 1 in 71.

we now avoid parties
and pale blue bedsheets.
we never go past certain streets,
even though it adds
a few extra miles onto every trip.
we now avoid pretzel stands
and candy stores.
we never watch romance movies or films, even though almost every movie
has some kind of *** or kissing scene.

we are always aware of where we go,
and who we’re with,
and who knows that we’re going out, and
who knows where we’ll be if we do.

we avoid the things
that we once loved to do.
we avoid the places
that we once loved to go.

we are hyper-vigilant,
and we are cautious,
and we are careful
because we are scared.
we are all scared.

my friend is the 1 in 5.
my other friend is the 1 in 71.
I am the 1 in 5.

almost everyone I know
has a story like this.
this information may be shocking,
but not to us. not anymore.
it can happen anywhere
to anyone at anytime,
but we see it so often that I think
we’ve grown numb to it.

if you talk to a group of teenagers
and you tell them, “I was *****.”
they will not be surprised.
this is every day.
we are afraid every day.

know that this is not
just a collection of statistics.
these are your family.
these are your friends.
these are all people just like you,
with beating hearts
and lives to live,
and we are so much more
than just numbers on a list.
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