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Was sexier fun
Asleep, when thumbs excite...
The reason we wait on home
Is a secret in the wind, might?

Patient couth, with curves
Have asked us to walk by
And say hello to what worths
Seldom in love, a taste of pretty why?

Soap
And the honor, of a glaring
With the times, and a little hope
Hot on staring heels, we find caring

To be a magnificent kiss
Dragons with needy eyes first
A whole moment, alone in a world is...?
A wish to become better, before worst...

Do children know these things?
Do adults share what wisdom saw?
Do canny austerity, save any being?
Do a safer show of sensitivity, begin at home?
Feeding the first one home, when you never left, when only thoughts will do
Chelsea Quigley Dec 2023
Look at me,
How slick and sleek.
A lipstick to wear
With blush on my cheek.

A corset tied tight
To cut my breath.
A queasy,
Uneasy
Feeling lingers through my chest.

You took my neck,
One hand down my vest.

But I look my best,
As you say to the rest.

I am worthy now,

I have passed your test.
This poem is about women's beauty standards, and how men tend to 'rate' women based on their looks. How women feel pressured to look and act a certain way to win validation from men. If you can relate to this, please know you are beautiful just the way you are!
Lina Dec 2023
I've wished I was a boy my whole life.
To get respect without demanding it.
To walk in a room and be part of the club.
To not be seen as an outsider, an irritant.

I loathed that I was treated differently.
I worked my entire life to get here,
believing that it would get better
with the fancy title and, finally, the career.

Now, I've made it. Yet, I still have to demand:
To be seen. To be CC'd on emails. To not be
excluded. Do you know how difficult it is
to have the right title, but not the right genitalia?

You can be competent, intelligent,
the smartest in the room.
But if you aren't the ideal gender,
You're just a pretty face in costume.
jǫrð Aug 2023
She said
Women don't
sit at the head
of the table

At first I was
Taken aback
By the covert
Misogyny

To know that
She worked in
Human resources
Was laughable

I could have
Screamed or
Wept for her
Ignorance, instead

I sat glaring
At the fool
That she had
Placed there

And when his
Demise began
I realized the
Truth in her words

She was an incapable leader.
The History: Projection
RatQueen Aug 2023
There's too much of me
So I slice into parts
Don't know who I am
Who I was
Where to start
My fingertips stained
a raspberry color
Let's cut off another
Another
Another
My softness dismantled
Set the mood
light some candles
This hole inside grows
So I must learn to handle
Those times where my head was held under water
Men dont give a **** if "that's somebodys daughter"
When all that you've taught me is I should be better
I think of my past self and send em a letter
The version of me that was put under ground
Carving into myself cause I cant speak out loud
Skipping breakfast and dinner or stuffing our faces
For some sense of control
To hope it erases
The feeling inside
that all that you can be
Is how flesh meat and bone
Hangs off of your body
When your own heart could stop
From barely a flutter
Flesh of the womb
Laying wet in the gutter
Taking what's ours
They go on with their lives
Resorted to tonics and herbs
Backyards and midwives
He said it's not that bad
you ******* faker
Beat in her face
Just to text her phone later
All my exes are crazy
I just wanted to bang her
Cut her down from the rafters
when you know what hanged her
It's funny it's sad
at the end of the day
We're in hell together
Across hot coals we lay
Dress your own wounds
Don't bend over for them
Instead let's
Redacted
Redacted
Redacted
Oh how it must itch-
The lady whose body is
Covered in hard plaster.
Finely carved face of alabaster.

The miracle maiden!
The matriarch with
The eternal smile
Could never feed
A hungry child

The dress she wears is a
Skin tight suit.

Shield atop shield.
Even in the heat.
her sweet baby ****
Burning beneath
Layers upon layers.

Prayers upon prayers
Would only save her.
David Hilburn May 2023
Lucious
Simple cares, simpler fires
Finally a call to his
Where the living is only higher...

Real, the truth though
Sight and smell, makes baby's
Hearing and taste, makes daughter's
Skin and well... psychic is a boy's seems

Careful beginnings
Would a sharing land agree?
Peace was but beauty, curious and cunning
The dote of avarice, does it silent thee?

Long decision's to find fun
Fun, for a solitary reason
Fresh is an art, to these wonder
Mercy is a power, to these a season...

With the voice of a calmer world
Silent was the choice, a chance's cause
Caring for nothing, but greater courage
Than all of a wish made, by what was living with the odd's...
Kings worth they're suicide, have the times at heart...
I see so many ads now
they feed into my insecurities
and help me to notice everything that is wrong with me.

"Got stretch marks?"
they ask, and my eyes shamefully
trace down my chest to my inner thighs and I learn to hate what I see.

So I read on, hoping to learn
how to get rid of the natural signs of an ageing vessel
"Neosporin, coconut oil, and olive, and they'll be gone in a week."

The ads proclaim, and so I do as they say
because how can I be pretty
if no one else thinks me so?

"10 Tips on How to Get the Relationship of Your Dreams"
"5 Signs that You're Not as Pretty as You Think You Are"
"4 Things to Try to Spice Up Your *** Life"

"1 Way to Tell Whether the Creepy Old Man on the Corner Thinks You're Worthy of Being Catcalled by Him"

I read on, trying to understand what it is to be pretty
but the more I see,
the more hopeless I become

Men will only ever see me as a piece of meat,
just a pair of **** and an ***,
only there for their enjoyment or pleasure.

but I am not here to make things easy,
I am more than the sum of my parts,
more than my cellulite and hip dips

I revel in my stretch marks
I have grown into the woman I am today,
and I refuse to erase the proof of that.
I am not here to be a ******* incubator. I am not here for man's pleasure.
David Hilburn Apr 2023
Talent show
Whimsy is our art
Our taste in methods and sights of owe
Welcome us to your town, a hay day with time to smarten

Catch a rising star
The pout of energy realized, remaining in view
Is our call to excellency, a closely required more
To the stir of when passion, has the sense to live for who

Carry me to the stage
The show is about to start, a seeming melodrama
That when served, is the callous voice we saw rage:
The tartness of life today, is tomorrow ours for a better dilemma?

Which in wolves eyes, the taste of complexity is ours
For a knock, a door, a calling hour; to achieve a known
Place of redoubt, that has no ear for wishes, beyond powers
That claim the world for a note, of courage come too soon?

A heated conversation, now is a readied mouth
With courage to take the lead, in round paces of what went
With the moment we know, the coping stare of another, proud
And silent, until a shadow of doubt, has become meant...

Through the longing, the strength of a need so refined
Wealth of a thought, is our reward
To tell a tale of composure, that has seen the times
And given the cue of adroitness, has become a life to guard...

Audacity
So simple an argument, for a watching eave
Tell-tale heed, to groom itself in lights, worth nativity
And with austerity to care, the faces of destiny in love, never leave
birdy Apr 2022
Girls of greatness must make haste,
for men of the very same stature start up a few pace!
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