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I must be easily mistaken
For a coat on a plastic hanger
Because nothing has been more familiar
Than the way I’ve been used,
Selected finickly from the men’s section
And worn until I’m ruined.

They expect me to fulfill their needs
And take on all their elements
And if I get a little *****
I’m just thrown in the wash
So I can be used again.
The silver lining
of her otherwise fuchsia
underwear, was in its ability
to sense danger.

The gray area
of her otherwise rosy
lips, was in who they were
allowed to kiss.

The red alert
of her otherwise bronze
thighs, was for what attempted
to get between them.

The white elephant
in her otherwise beige
room, is what happened
to her prized possession.
Damon Beckemeyer Aug 2018
The pizza took her place in bed. It slathered itself all over her.
The pizza objectified my body.
It slid between her *******, leaving traces of red sauce and strands of hot, almost liquid cheese in the nook of her cleavage.

It slowly dripped off of her ******* as she spread its residue across her *****.
From there, the succulent, almost watery juices rolled off of her teet and onto her folded legs as she knelt there in the store window.
Everyone could see her.
But as long as those who were most enthralled came inside to purchase a pie or two, no one seemed to care.
Bella Apr 2018
I think sometimes my nose is pulled so high into the air that I am a skyscraper
that my ears hear only Birds
that my skin feels only wind
but my ears
that is not what they hear

they hear
“hey baby”
“****... girl...”
“What u doin all alone”

my skin-
feels their hands
feels their selfish - dominance
their greed, for my, body

so my nose, goes higher up.
while my heart, sinks further down
I cannot ignore their words,
or rather, I should not ignore their words for my own protection
because that makes me feisty
makes me unattractive
makes me stingy
to withhold myself from their, greedy, hands
so I must respond
or at least acknowledge
be confident
be ignorant
pretend you didn't know it was anything more than a compliment
flash them a smile
continue walking

and Oh...
don't forget to say
thank you.
this isn't to say everyone on the streets makes me feel this way, or that there aren't kind/appropriate ways to deliver genuine compliments. It's just to express what I just began to understand about myself to be my second nature.
Objectified Self

the only thing you bring to me

You challenge my thoughts
You force my feelings
You invoke my emotions

I have to create contingency plans
Because of you

I have to keep a distance
Because of you

Because of You
have to rearrange too much of Me

I cant **** you

I can only war with you
the only thing you bring to me

© Christopher F. Brown 2018
Sushant Bhujel Apr 2017
No man has and will ever earn
Orientation to immorality and things that're wrong

May be he sees self as the wisest of all
Earns the most, makes the main calls
And/or he may be a well built handsome hunk
Neither of these nor any other qualities give him a nod, to
Stare at others, break their esteem for the world.

No man has and will ever earn, the right to
Objectify another for the mere sense of fun.
Generally women must feel a slew of emotions, from joy for being noticed, to fear of angering their harasser, to anger at the nerve of some people, to sadness that is normal. We, men ourselves fear for our sisters, spouse and daughters safety, also feel angry that they dressed a certain way or that some men can’t control themselves, to sadness that you have to be concerned for them everywhere because it is the way it is.
Ma Cherie Feb 2017
Tell me will you poet?
tell me sweetly in my ear,
tell me of your darkest sin,
and of your hidden fear,
then I will tell it back to you ,
and jot it right down here,
so tell me if you go with it ,
just what you wish to hear?

( I'm listening )

I can tell you that you're perfect,
that you're nice as nice can be,
an I'll tell you that I am your friend,
that you have a friend in me,

( ugh...not so much )

I'll tell you-
you're the handsomest,
as handsome as a star,
the dreamy one from childhood,
who lives somewhere a far,

( I wish... )

I'll tell you that you're wonderful,
that you're honest -
and you're sweet,
an I'll be at your beckon call,
just waiting at your feet,
I will be the sweetest girl,
that you will ever meet,

( Oh boy )

I'll curve the pretty world you view,
an distort it if I must,
tell me will you poet,
are my words the ones you trust?
I can tell a sad goodbye,
or sheets we tangle up in lust,

( ....uh..notta chance, but-)

I can tell of heated passion,
of heated lovers in the night,
while some have heated *******,
some others have a fight,
either way with all that heat,
there's hope they both ignite,
an when you cut your own hand off,
it's only YOU-
you spite,

( OK don't get pissy )

So I can kiss you with my paper,
I can caress you with my pen,
I can leave you feeling anxious love,
or I can leave you feeling zen,
I can be beside you there,
just name it where and when,

( hope not tho )

I can mention that you're genius,
just the smartest guy I know,
except for when it comes to love,
and then it's all for show,
or I can just omit that part,
so no one ever know,

( I'm sure you'd prefer that )

I can tell you any fake thing,
so sweetly in your ear,
it may not be the truth though,
and there in lies the fear,
if I tell you only truth then,
when I'm drawn in really near,
then tell me will you poet,
what should I say my dear?

( oy vey )

Because some objectified objects,
well they have opinions too,
and flattery gets you no where see,
even if these facts I say are true,
it's only in a certain light,
when you tip it all askew,
so that everyone can finally see,

The real "beauty" there in you,
as it all comes out,
now so clearly into view,

And I wonder why would I-
ever waste a single precious breath?!

Ma Cherie © 2017
Added the last part at 12:38 p.m. any thoughts ? Not someone I'm with - you know -some people!?...grrrrr my dad used to say a real "beauty" lol thanks wonderful poets  ❤❤❤
One and Only Dec 2016
I feel like a trophy.
Something to be won,
then thrown away once I begin to dull.

I feel like a trophy,
Paraded around when beautiful,
Left alone to rust and dissolve away.

I feel like a trophy,
loved at the start,
then kept only for the memories

I feel like a trophy,
Marveled at in the spotlight,
then slowly forced to share the shelf space.

I feel like a trophy,
naive enough to think
that that my next owner would treasure me.

I feel like a trophy,**
non-living, replaceable,
and disposable.
I don't get it. What is wrong with me?
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