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those eyes are scarred
from damaged winds
on pavement singed

rent scenes recite
a diatribe
how do you live

holes dirtied leak
torn shadows sigh
they shelter filth

you cull the heat
until dice turns
to excise rage

with scalpel sharp
reprieve in sight
a poor man's

prize
----
©
At times we see old eyes pass us by, biding their time.  It may be on the street, in a bus or train.
Sometimes we see it in the mirror.  We know we would never do the deed. We seek to rise above injustice, to transform. But the primitive mind wants its moment, if only in mind ©
Ash Aug 24
I am scared.
Not just for myself but for all the girls out there.
For all those girls who walk home alone really late.
For all those girls whose bosses after work hours ask them to wait.
For all the young girls who don't even know much about anything yet.
For all the women whose husbands or fathers get real drunk after sun set.
Why you ask me?
Because of all the disgusting stories I've heard and the terrible things I've seen.
Because men get away with almost anything.
Even if they've ruined a girl's everything.
Because y'all don't want to teach boys to treat women with respect.
You don't want to teach them to back off when she rejects.
You just want to go on about how she should have dressed more appropriately.
But even then would he have treated her differently?
I don't think so.
Because we encouraged this when we failed our girls a long time ago.
When we didn't give justice to all those countless women.
When we let the guilty men walk away as if they had done nothin'.
When we blamed the victim.
When we didn't even let her speak and only listened to him.
We failed when she stopped reporting even, because she didn't want to make it worse for herself.
We failed when we drove her so mad, so devoid of hope that she ended it then and there.
B D Caissie Aug 17
Courage is facing each day in a world without justice.
devine Aug 1
ease in my ears
fears in my head
i’m with my beers
but i feel you instead

i never wanted to
we didn’t intend to
for every **** we went through
hell yeah we’re true

i’m blessed and glad
we are nowhere near bad
but i can’t stop thinking about the unjust
something we always discuss

we’d be in different galaxies
away from each other
we could only meet through galleries
where we both suffer

it’s not up to us
when people are filled with disgust
no matter how much we trust
they will leave us in the dust

i can’t erase me without erasing you
so how can we be free without turning blue
i just want you
why to them we can’t love too

i just love you
none can undo
it's unfair.
Zoe Grace Jul 31
An irreplaceable mirror
One of a kind
An irreplaceable memory
Stored in a photograph

The mirror, shattered
Shards lying on the floor
The photograph, tarnished
Smeared with paint

A room reeking of chemicals
Belonging to an asthmatic.
Being refused the refuge
Of sleeping on the couch.

A gouge in the wall
A long, scratched line
White smears across
A brand new, silver surface.

But we can't sue,
Or complain
Because your son
Runs our Real Estate.
So the painter we hired to do the ceilings and fix the plaster is a ******* *******
he RUINED my ONE OF A KIND MIRROR that was made in the shape of my name that my uncle got me from Bali.
He got white paint onto one of the ONLY PHOTOS I HAVE LEFT of Nan and Pop.
Paint, on the fridge we got a week ago.
A GOUGE MARK IN THE KITCHEN WALL
but the real estate people
WONT DO ****!!!
Äŧül Jul 28
I shall do you an injustice
If I steal you out from paradise
I shall do Gods an injustice
If I kidnapped you from heaven
But...
I shall bless my people
When I bring your divinity to my land
My HP Poem #1754
©Atul Kaushal
Carl D'Souza Jul 25
When bitterness bites my heart
with anger, resentment, hurt
and a sense of unjust treatment,
what should I do?

Does it soothe my heart
to accept what has happened
as Destiny?

Does it soothe my heart
to strive to discover
what I can do
to improve my situation
to increase my joy and happiness?
Graff1980 Jun 24
She was barely sixteen,
out late partying,
and intoxicated
when he came
and violated
her sacred
center.

At first, she resisted
but with his fists
he insisted.
So, stunned numb
she submitted,
laying still as a stone
that sunk
to the bottom
of a lake,
as she was forced
to endure
that horrible ****.

Disgusted and ashamed,
she almost took a shower,
but unfortunately knew
if she wanted to
press charges
she’d have to keep
his ******* fluids.

So, she let them
swab and start collecting
all the samples
they would need
to prosecute.

But at her
court appointed
appearance
it soon became
apparent
that only her parents
cared about justice,

cause the judge was
quite transparent.
Even though,
he made a production
of compassion for
her suffering,
he still let
that rich man's son
off with only a
slap on the wrist,

cause the lawyer told him
he’s just a boy and
he can’t do time in
the prison system,

cause it would ruin him
and it’s not his fault because of
affluenza.

What good would it do
but ruin the lives of two,
after all they had
both been through?

Several weeks
and more than three
pregnancy tests later,
she still felt
the violation
as a remnant of him
began gestating
like and alien
inside of her.

But her church wouldn’t
let her abort the fetus
so, despite the trauma
she had to adapt
to the fact
that she was trapped.

Four weeks later
she went from
at least this life
will need her,
to cold chills,
cramps, and a fever;

From ten to
twenty-two  
pounds gained
then to back down
and even lighter
then when
her pregnancy
began.

She went from
finally accepting
and preparing
to start sharing
her life
with a newborn,
to a ****** expulsion,
nausea, repulsion,
and hiding
said heartbreaking
pain in shame.
You looked so big to me
That Summer in Oregon
I was only four when we
Followed you into isolation

New Hampshire seemed a world away
All ties to home and family
Shrank and faded in the rear view
Hoping new & different...would be

I left my doll outside that day
Then lied to keep my fault a secret
Your belt, that slipping sound
I still hear to this day

Spare the rod and spoil the child
Was popular back then
Americans had a right to raise up
God fearing children with discipline

The problem is you got it wrong
God disciplines, it's true
But love's the stronger, key component
One you rarely demonstrated

If truth had been a better choice
My shame exposed, as was my skin
Would I have escaped your wrath
And be now somehow changed?

She made the choice to live with you
Sadly it was a package deal
One for which I've paid the price
A remarkable value nonetheless...

My children never heard the sound
Of leather belt and buckle strap
Spare the child and spoil the rod
Have been my choice instead
A continuation of my earliest childhood experiences.  My mother dealt with mental and emotional abuse from my stepfather, who had adopted me when he married her.  To her it meant security.  For me it began many years of physical abuse as well as the mental and emotional scars.  Sadly, she left him many times, only to return.  I began running away at the age of six and left home by age 14.  Unfortunately she is still with him today.  He is still mentally and verbally abusive to her.  He suffered a stroke and now she feels duty bound to take care of him.  I am an only child and I am disabled and can't do much to help get her out of there.  So this forum is my only outlet.  Please pardon my drama.
Eleni Jun 13
The storms and cyclones
Are building, breaching
the defences of Her ambience.

Quietly, they come
Through the begrimed and black
Looting the ears of the lost.

What direction? When there is no compass.
No straight lines. Just circles.
Cycles and cyclones.

Caught up in the invisible winds
Swept away like debris.
What they called home is now Hell.
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