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Jules AA Apr 4
I knew it was only for someone else.
Like the ripest fruit waiting to be picked, they all couldn’t resist eating, pit an all.

For so long they have said, “Such a pretty peach,” “Such an attractive plum,” and I would be flattered, but it was all a pretense for a type of gluttony I had never seen.

But the fruit is sour now that I know that it was the lack of blemishes, or that the feeling of the skin was all that mattered. It’s sour with rot, because I was taken and no one asked if I wanted, taken so hard and disposed of harder, all that was left was pulp stuck in my shower drain.

So I’ll cut off all the skin and fuzz!
I’ll scream, cut loose from the tops of the branches, filled with ripe nectarines, that I am nobody’s for the picking anymore as my skin shrivels in the sun, it drips with the nectar that only I can own!
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

Warfare
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
I
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?
Kim Elaydo Feb 2016
No. I have had enough.
I will not be your doll
Or your little puppet
That you can manipulate
And toy with.

No. I am not an object.
I will not be dehumanized
Or be touched by you — 
By your hands that linger
In my darkest corner.

No. I am a person.
I will not be enslaved by you
Or be snatched of my persona — 
For I can think for myself;
And I can be myself without you.

Just STOP.

Stop making leisure
out of my fragile heart.

Stop patronizing my body
for your selfish means.

Stop making love your petty excuse
for the lies you’ve tied around my head.

Stop making me feel ***** and useless
after you call me “beautiful”every time you
get your ***** hands all over my body.

*Stop objectifying me. I am my own person. I can live without you
For all the girls and boys out there that are in a toxic relationship!!! i love you guys I hope you find your true happiness

thanks guys!! this is my first trending poem :) thanks for giving a little time to read it!
Erika Castaldo Dec 2015
Did she offend you?
Baring her shoulders, her collarbones, her knees,
How risqué of her.
Dressed for comfort in the 90 degree weather,
She was asking for it, right?

Did you not break her?
Make her scared to wear what she wants or walk alone.
But she deserved that, didn't she?

Are you sorry for hurting her?
After you used her, she tried to **** herself three times,
All because you couldn't control yourself.
Was her body so distracting that you took away
Her whole life?
Michaela Ferris May 2015
They try to label me,
Tell me who I'm supposed to be
But I'm not giving in to that.
On a scale from 1 to 10
They try to tell me how I am
But I'm better then that,
I don't need your numbers because

I am perfect as I am
I don't need you to tell me
Who I'm supposed to be.
Hey, why is it we get objectified?
Told we are not perfect as we are
And that we have to change
In order to belong.

Why is it everyone wants to be on top,
Looking like the "perfect" person they see in magazines?
Nobody seems to realise
We're made to be who we are
Not some fake idea
And unrealistic dream where nobody feels good enough.

We are perfect as we are
We can be whoever we choose to be
There's no reason that
We should change at all.
We are not somebody you can alter
Or try and squeeze into that box
We all belong as who we are!

I don't want to sit around waiting for a knight in shining armour
I want to be my own hero
And not let people change that.
Why cant I be who I'm meant to be
Is that so wrong?
Will it ever be seen as perfect
To be who we are?

They try to stick me in that box,
Label me and make me feel small
But I can't give them that power.
On a scale from 1 to 10
I am perfect as I am
I don't need someone telling me who I'm supposed to be,
Because no matter what anyone says we are all perfect as we are.
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