#misogyny poems on Hello Poetry

David John Mowers Jun 2016

VVitch

I torment the salt of the earth,

~"Who am I?"~

Eat up the children from unholy birth,

~"Who am I?"~

The ravens caw and come to pick,

~"Who am I?"~

Off woeful ones that I've made sick,

~"Who am I?"~

See travelers on the road of pain,

~"Who am I?"~

Rider on the clouds drive you insane,

~"Who am I?"~

I'm coming for you, I'm coming quick,

~"Who am I?"~

My art deception, my craft, -the trick...

~...Anatu...~

The Sumerian storm god was a goddess adopted by the Hebrews as, "Lilith," or in the original, "Li-Li-Tu." She was part of a cadre of evil sky spirits who could manifest themselves inside animals and humans and due to some ancient wrong were particularly found of killing or making suffer; men and male babies. She was considered a daytime goddess and her thundering storms gave her the epithet, "Rider on the clouds." She is related to the Greek Artemis(as a huntress), Phoenician Astarte, Ishtar, Hebrew Lilith, Sumerian Anatu, Egyptian Anit, Aryan Tiamat, the Hindu Devas and the prototype for ritual witchcraft. She was a completely evil character.

Tu is action, Ana is sky so her name represents the ACTIONS of the SKY!

#mythology #misogyny #halloween #witch #lilith #tiamat #anatu #rhyme #stormgoddess

axr Jul 2017

locked rooms

i'll tell you what's ****** up about society
a man in a room filled with women is excited
he is checking every one of them out,
his eyes searching for the one with the biggest *****
and the ones with the big ***,
his eyes scan the pretty faces for the sparkling eyes and by the end,he's convinced that he's in love with the girl with the perfect smile.
he is quick to point out their flaws,
one of them has a button nose
and someone has acne scars on her face
one of them happens to be taller than him
and another one a different race.
he is excited,he is aroused, he wants to get lucky, he want to make new friends by the end of the night.
in the locked room, he wants to have a time that only ***** can make him remember

a woman
in a room filled with men
is terrified.
she buttons up her shirt till she can feel it choking her.
she covers up because she doesn't want them staring at the bits of skin exposed.
across the room, she sees a man winking at her and quietly rubbing himself.
she desperately looks for a safe space, a familiar face,
she looks for somebody from the locked room who can save the day.
the men slowly encircle her and mentally undress her
and with every item of clothing they remove,
she becomes more of an object.
she is anxious,she wants to run for her life,she just wants to make it home safely by the end of the night.

the locked room is a paradise to one
and hell for another

this is actually a spoken word poem. i have been experimenting with new styles of writing since the past few weeks and this is one of the products

#dark #deep #poetry #misogyny #patriarchy #**** #confined #locked #rooms #men

Scarlet McCall May 2017

Smoke and Mirrors (with help from Simon and Garfunkel) (an "ode" to Ariana Grande)

Hello Darkness my old friend
Who knew your herald would be a *****?
Spandex, and *** shots, and smirky metaphor—
I’ve come to talk with you again
Pulling up shorts and promising more.
Ride that bike so hard—you’ve got to be sore.
‘cause a vision softly ere creeping
Visions don’t come softly these days; they come in your face.
Hot diva so young, telling girls what’s their place.
Came to me while I was sleeping
No time for sleeping, just dancing and *******,
“Female Empowerment”’s now about stripping and *******.
And the vision, that was planted in my brain
Planting visions of *** is the best gig in town,
raking in millions in dollars and pounds.
Still remains
These images burn; they’re from Hell, I am sure.
A woman’s a woman; let a girl be a girl.
Within the sounds of silence.
Now silence reigns, no beats, tweets or lies.
The star’s somewhere safe; a child in hospital dies.
In restless dream I walked alone
Alone is better than ***** on the floor.
Alone is better than pushed through the door.
Through narrow streets of cobblestone
Call me a hag with flat shoes clutching pearls--
a relic of cobblestone times; to be sure.
Neath the halo of a streetlamp
The glare and the blare of incessant Youtube
promises glory with high heels and **** tubes.
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
No collars for girls; unless for literal *******--
"Submission is ****", said Rihanna (smug in her riches).
My eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
You can’t look away; it’s everywhere;
on awards shows. On radio in shops selling wares.
That split the night
And touched the sounds of silence.
Fools said I you do not know
How could they know? They’re only teens.
They do not know what makes self-esteem.
Silence like a cancer grows
Name it, shame it; it’s exploitation of women;
if we don’t stop it there’ll be much worse coming.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you,
But my words, like silent raindrops, fell…
Into the well, of silence.
And the people bowed and prayed
To the Neon God they made
And the Sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the Sign said
“the words of the prophets are written on subway walls,
In tenement halls”*
And in blood on concert hall floors.

#arianagrande #exploitation #commercialism #misogyny