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Saanvi Sep 2024
The goddess looks breathtaking
In her red saree, an emblem of marriage.
Her skin is soft to touch,
Yet she carries a heavy sword in her hands.
The goddess looks serene and calm,
Only that she is about to **** the darkness of demons who are awaiting their freedom.
The goddess wears Kohl in her eyes,
Only to smudge it with her tears.
As she wins the battles plunging the heart out of evil.
The goddess is a mother, she wears red bangles, a colour for both womanhood and rage,
Intertwined and interconnected since the beginning of time.
The Goddess has given birth to her children
with great pains and no agony can beat her strength.
As Devi would not hesitate to become a bloodthirsty Kali
To protect her children.
Divine femininity I bow to you.
Men can only know the power of violence,
But Devi knows the power of love,
How in times of war, it can be our biggest weapon.
Fueled by the energy to **** not out of hatred or Revenge,
But love that led a Mother to pick up arms
So she could protect us all
from the evil that harbours within.
Devi is divine feminine and I bow to her.
She has been created from the strength of all mothers and sisters and daughters.
She tells us the ancient tale of
how women always have had the hidden strength
To leave trails of destruction, only when forced.
Devi does not bleed every month only to be scared of the blood of
evil rakshasas on her hand.
The goddess will happily drink it
And decorate her hands with the demon's blood,
Spreading it on her fingers like red henna.
Devi looks focused, almost peaceful as she kills Mahishasur.
She doesn't want the glory of power.
Her only truth is love.
Even in the heat of battle, Devi's beauty shines through.
Divine Feminine, I bow to you.
Divine Femininity, I bow to you.
Lily Sep 2024
Servitude
Silence
Surrender
Simply the life I endure
And the legacy I render
I want more
I hunger
I yearn
I crave
My efforts are futile
My want is in vain
His face in front of mine
Disguises the pain
We all start out small and hopeful
Then grow tall and resentful
You end small and resentful
Your thoughts consumed by anyone but yourself
Lily Sep 2024
It feels as if I can’t escape from their gaze
I’ve been hazed into womanhood
It wasn’t a phase
When I was just a girl my ingenue was used
Treated like something that should be abused
And when I served my purpose to amuse
I would be blown out like a fuse
When I was just a girl I learned how to choose
The choice to behave or die
The choice to live in fear or lie
The choice didn’t come simply
And neither did I
And when I was older I hungered
I starved
I wished and wished for something far greater than myself to take charge
But no one was coming to save me
No one but, I
So I made the choice
The choice to lie
And there I lied
As the gaze crept up on me
And grabbed me all over
And in my head, I whispered “Soon, it will be over.”
And when I served my purpose to amuse
I found myself quite confused
I was no longer the girl I once knew
Jade Sep 2024
You assign to us the connotation of fragility–
“a woman is like a flower.”

Entangled in your own bias,
you see a flower for its petals only,
so blinded by their delicacy,  
you forget the blazing pistil.

What if I told you a flower
is no different than a loaded gun?
Eleanora Sep 2024
This poison you feed me
This head wound
Inflicting and compounding;
You will never understand

You size me up
In funhouse mirrors,
Tape measures all stretched out
Because you hate me
And so I cry

I’m sorry, I’m sorry,
I’m sorry I’m so big
I want to be small
Teach me to be small
Or, instead,
Teach me not to have a face
So you do not see me anymore
Please

The sweetness of a dehydrated body,
Tired, weak, blameless,
Addicted
Downing only buckets of saccharine hatred
It smells like cancer and bubblegum,
And that’s just as well

It tastes like
Blood
Shawn M Pilgrim Aug 2024
The sacrifices of boys and men
Their own devices of joys and sin
The costly prices of ploys to win
The lonely crisis that destroys within
K Bee May 2024
If we are so coveted
By grasping hands
Fingers prodding and pulling
Measuring and beckoning
Pushing us this way and that
Then let us also be
Objectionable
To their sensibilities
So that the hands
May falter in spite of themselves
And lose their grip
At least some of the time
When they go low we go high
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