I walk down the street, my hair messy
My makeup sliding off
My sweatpants riding low on my hips, dragging on the ground, collecting dirt
And a low cut tank top.
Tired, exhausted, worn out. Unattractive. And that's okay.
What's not okay is when a car slows down and yells
"Hey pretty girl! Where you off to?"
I freeze
Attention is not something I'm looking for
It's a bed that I'm seeking
A good night's sleep
But instead of a bed I find
A man
Yelling unwanted compliments out of his car window as I walk back home.

Should I answer? What would I say?
Should I be honest? "I'm going home. Off to bed."
I know what the response would be. "Can I come too?"
Or maybe I can say "I'm going to see my girlfriend."
I don't have a girlfriend, but for the next five minutes,
She's right up that hill, waiting in her room to see me.
No, his response would be "That's hot! Can I come too?"
Or maybe I have a boyfriend instead.
More effective.
More dangerous. More of a threat than a girlfriend would be.
No, to that he'd say "He's letting you walk by yourself?
Must not be much of a man. I bet I could take him in a fight."
Which brings up many more issues
(i can walk by myself if he were real he would respect me so thats more than you do if he were real he wouldnt fight some random asshole over me treat me like a PERSON god dammit)
That I would not want to address with someone as dangerous
As a man telling me I'm pretty out of the window of his car.
Maybe I can say "Please leave me alone." Being direct is always the best option.
Unless he continues to follow me.
Or gets upset.
Or refuses to leave me alone.
Or gets out of his car or pulls me into his car or or or
I don't know. I don't want to think about it.

Or maybe I can just keep walking.
Ignore him, act like nobody said anything
Act like there isn't someone I have never met in my whole life
Yelling out of the drivers window of his car
Telling me I'm pretty.

There is no way out of the dangerous thing that is the male gaze
Once it begins
There is no easy way out.

Written for my Intro to Creative Writing class--the assignment was "Write an imitation of [Gregory] Corso's poem ["Marriage"]--rant and rave about your own fears."
Aubri Umlauf Nov 2

Fairy Tales end with happy endings,
Not bad memories and a drug problem.
I see the world as a sad fairy tale
With teens wishing upon a star,
Wanting a happy ending.
I wanna DIE!
They scream as they drag
a blade across their perfect skin
With an abusive father
and alcoholic mother.
I want you to LOVE me.
She cries because he left
Her for a better version
Of barbie, with bleach blonde
Hair and sunkissed skin.
I want this all to end
He slurs while finishing
The empty bottle of jack
He kept hidden under his bed
Away from his toxic grandparents
And runaway sister.
I have no place on earth
He laughs while placing a colorful
Sticker on his tongue
Starving because his house is broke
And his mother is addicted to meth.
I know stories
That are not mine to tell,
Stories that are told without words
But actions that speak
For themselves.
There’s a girl overfilled with
Pills and drama.
She reminds me of a bubble
Light, and fun to play with
But get to rough and she’ll explode.
There’s a boy with a mind of a girl,
Filled with unhappy thoughts
And bad memories sent away
For eight months because of
The rope tied to the ceiling.
There’s an eighteen year old who
Writes music to escape
The feeling of being messed over
By a girl with unhealthy habits
And a way with tricks.  
I know a boy who chose
A better life in the marines,
then a jealous stepbrother,
And suicidal father.
Today, i spoke of these stories
I was told to show you how life
Is not always given a happy ending
For those who deserve it.

But you, have the decision to change it all now.  

Lyn-Purcell Oct 29

I think it's relevant to say
that Fire's a jealous element.
Think about what we associate fire with.


All of which make us human and gives us
our daily fuel.
Fire is never as steady as water.
Fire can grow like earth but left unattended,
it will grow wild in its freedom
encasing all with singeing kisses...

Licking, eating....raping all that is
green with the touch of red.
Leaving nothing but black blankets
and smoky embers in the air.

Fire is much like a jealous lover.
Enraged that it can never be still
or freely grow without the manipulating
hands of man.
One kiss of freedom claws at the life around.
No different from us when we're pushed to
our limits.

When we met someone we like, there is a spark.
That spark becomes a flame when we fall in love.
And when life comes and hits us, it can become
And in that wildness, we lose our sense of self.

Fire is not a gentle master
Within our hearts and on the palm of our hands.
Nor is it, nor will it ever be
a gentle lover.

I've always been fascinated by fire. I wrote this while watching my aromatherapy burn.
George Krokos Oct 28

Some people in life you'll meet may think and say that ignorance is bliss,
while some others around will refute the idea as nonsense and so dismiss.
They may also add that if we don't know about something it probably wont hurt
but, if we do know, it can make a world of difference and thus any danger avert.

From "The Quatrains" ongoing writings since the early '90's
Hanna Jones Oct 25

Your image is one of broken glass.

You’re dangerous, I know.
But I will still try to piece you together, despite my bleeding fingers.

Even though everytime I think that I am close,
You shatter once more.

I will piece you together, until your image is one of contentment.

Jeevan Oct 21

“Hello, and welcome to the show.
My name is Captain Sin.”
As Dancers tumble to and fro,
protected by thick skin.

“Release the snare!”, the Captain yells,
gripping a chair, metal strikes bells,
The audience roars with anticipation.
And the tigers temper, is just causation.

But Captain Sin is never through.
Lacking neither whip or mood.
He swings his crop and hits it true,
confidence is what he exudes.
The tiger rears to claw his face,
But Captain Sin just seems displaced,
too quick to see or venerate,
a cause for cheers to celebrate.

Another crack across the skin,
the beast now seems subdued.
Another smack across it's chin,
the monster takes review.

The cage is closed to mournful eyes.
For those who thought of Sin's demise.
And Captain Sin, takes a final bow.
He removes his hat, to cloak his brow.
Sin shades the line of red they missed.
As music plays, the show persists.

Let me know if it reads smoothly.
Brent Kincaid Oct 20

Hush little nobody, don’t say a word
Don’t call the SCROTUS a great big turd
Because he will never cut you a break
He thinks any critic is a great big fake.

When SCROTUS ever gets caught in a lie
He always blames it on some other guy.
He blames everybody, even you
If not, of course, Obama will do.

Cowboy up, little baby, don't cry
Congress is just like this phony guy.
Laws that hurt the people will pass
Congress loves to kiss SCROTUS ASS.

If taxes favor the rich and not you
There is not a thing you can do
Congress has become an evil tribe
Run by treasonous theives and bribes.

And if Social Security goes broke
SCROTUS gonna tell you a dirty joke.
And if that dirty joke offends
SCROTUS gonna lie to you again.

So when there is no longer peace
And freedom gets replaced by a lease
You can kiss your savings goodbye.
Now you can read this and know why.

Eliah SolRae Oct 20

The silence shattering roar breaks the peace of the day. I look up and see it.
It is awful and big, slightly yellow and poisonous cloud.
It begins to take shape, a mushroom.
It does not look like a Cremini but a Shiitake. It is enormous and rising.
It is coming like a wave of fire towards me. I scramble up and run,
I look back. It is like trying to outrun a car. It trip in fall,
try to get up but I am too late. It envelops me and everything.
My last thought is atomic blast...

will this happen? You tell me
alan Oct 3

Faucets made of plastic
overflowing with rubbish
this world, what has it come to?
Is this the way we end?
It's raining with acid in your plastic world
the ocean is polluted with the packaging of death
your eyes cannot see anymore
you shield yourself with this a rose shade on stage
is that really you?
You sing your story for the world,
but is your story true?
Everything is plastic
everything is fake.

When bullets develop wings in the hands on a devil,
We hide behind needles while bullets search for a place to call home.

You kept scraping your etching finger on a trigger,
Our vessels vomited adrenalin, we saw danger,
You flooded our blood with anger.

I’m from the death,
Telling you not to dare,

If you dare pull another trigger,
Remember God’ eyes are watching.

Next page