Anomaly Jul 13

It's almost as if famous people are being payed to be famous which makes them more famous so they have more money to be more famous .....unless somebody wants to explain differently to little kids that say "I wanna be famous like Kim K" ...why don't cameras follow everyday people .
You might not know what the people in your day to day go through and see .

but you'll know if Kanye and Kim and having another baby

(because we gotta hide the real issues in the world )

Another rant
Marsha A Jul 3

I choose you.
And I will continue choosing you, over and over again.
With no hesitation, without a pause;
No doubts, nor second thoughts.
I will keep choosing you.
Even in a heartbeat, it will always be you whom I choose.

bp pipp Jun 28

just [bec]ause i don't folloW the rules of poeTry or even the
engli$h Language, or rhyme or RhytHm, i put soul into my "poetry," I put hidD3n m3ssag3s for you to stuDy and dec1ph3r and thE lack of

[orde]r in my "POEtry" 5hows that I.m a rebel. my PoEtrY shows that i do not give a FUCK about RulEs.

+ "poetry" is HaRD is to wrITE and so please, pleASE critICise my "poetry" when yoU, MY FrieND, you ARE "poet laureate" or you HavE won the Nobel Prize for "literature"

Until [//then//] geT aWay from me and my "poetry" until you write your own SHitty "poetry"

If you do not write poetry, why the fuck are you criticising other's poetry and lowering their self-esteem

Get the fuck on HelloPoetry and learn some poetry-critiquing etiquette
Robbie Gunn Jun 28

I'll keep this brief
Davina McCall Presents comic relief
but evades tax like a fucking thief

I've got endless wit
you two faced hypocrite
you make me sick  

My friend said it's stupid to care
oh well ignorance is bliss
reading this story in the paper
made me pissed

Stupid celebrities
What I Feel Jun 21

Wake up and smell the stench you made
again, you fucked it up again.
Self deprecating, grating shame
surrounds your stupid, childish hope
that you could live in love again.
      That crushing disappointment fills
the eyes and hearts of those around
and grabs your gut and wraps it round
your beaten, broken promises
in faith and fancy cruelly drowned.
     What fooled you into thinking that
redemption was within your reach?
Who made your mindless mind so each
and every time you try to speak
you piss all over verbal bleach,
      a choking stink that makes them retch
and run from you, the grody glitch,
the thoughtless, soulless, brutish bitch
that bites each hand of human help
and digs her deeper, darker ditch.

I needed a way to rant. I think this poem sounds better if you read it aloud; there is something about it that just rolls off the tongue.
Please don't worry; I am feeling much better after writing this.
Rose Jun 18

Eat more, now,
They tell me.
Nobody wants skin and bones,
They tell me.
Men will not love you,
They tell me.
They will have nothing to hold on to,
They tell me.
Do your parents feed you,
They tell me.
Do you feed yourself,
They tell me.

They hold my wrist and compare.
They pinch my waist, and berate.
Do you want a burger? You could really use it, they laugh.

You see,
With many,
My body is a conversation starter.
Words, as sharp as knives,
as though rehearsed,
as though meant to be uttered when seeing somebody 'skinny',
as though I'm nothing more
than my skin and bones.

I don't need to tell you that I am so much more than the space I occupy.

Tell me about your day, your hobbies, what you're passionate about just don't talk about my body. I'm healthy, happy and didn't ask for your input.
Rebel Heart May 23

And worst of all..
It was not these
empty screams
nor the shards of
broken lyrics I belted out...

It was the sole simple fact..
that I bled for you
I opened up to you
I believed you
And only you
inside and out...

I believed you...
when you whispered to me
Those sugar coated lies
Lying under the screaming stars

I believed you...
when you cuddled close to me
and told me it'd be alright
That I'll learn to love these scars.

And I believed you again and again
Over and over
Our story that never ends...
that I was not broken,
just simply bent
that I was not shattered,
just had a dent
that I was not pathetic,
just completely spent
that I was not crazy,

well what does it matter now?

My tears inked this paper
but the thoughts of you
turned it into a long vent.

My intricately crafted emotions
now turned into a disaster
not worth a cent.

And no matter what I say
My future is already clear,
written in cement.

And I still love you..
I always will
Though I shouldn't
I relent...

(The poem sounds better if read aloud with emotion... its meant to be a rant)...
I actually wrote it for my friend who recently went through a breakup (Not that its an important detail), but if anyone knows me they know I'm better at expressing others emotions better than I am at expressing my own... so this one's dedicated to anyone and everyone who can feel these empty lines of ranting poetry in their hearts. <3

You, sir,
I think I made the mistake of trusting you, sir.
I think sometimes they tell you people
That teenagers have nowhere to go and no one to talk to,
So when one speaks to you
You are the only one they have ever spoken to,
And they only one they will ever trust.
You, sir, are the light on the hill!
And yet I never saw a brightness die so fast.

I told you about the depression first.
Yes, I admit it, I was scared;
There had never been enough people to tell me it was okay
To be mentally ill, that it wasn't something I'd chosen,
It was a flaw of chemistry not of character.
Yet I clicked that door open for you and let you in,
That was step 1.

I didn't tell you about her next.
But to be fair, I didn't know about her, either.
I came to you about him, when I was lost.
You berated me for my trust issues;
I swallowed it and knew it and you told me to stop.
He was supposed to be the next good step.
My fault, and I know it.  

Step 3 were the voices.
When I told you there were voices in my head
I tried to explain to you that I was not crazy
The chemistry between me and my brain may be bad
But it's not insanity:
Only memories, only torturers,
And I didn't need another one.

When I told you that my sexuality was not straight like a pin
But waved and diverged to both sides
That I was not a het, I was a queer
You were more kindly than the congregation
And I mistook a warning as a welcome.
I was troubled but not condemned so long as I did not "practice."
Well I did not practice for it but when I kissed her and when I kiss her
I remember your words and look into her eyes and think
That there is no practice in her or in I.
Our lips meet and I feel her warmth and her hands are on my hips
And I tell you there is no "practice"
There is no practicing for love,
Not a single rehearsal for passion and commitment.
Sirrah I would do it again and again
Like the waves I will continue to touch her shores,
No matter how many times others may pull me away.

If you meant to abandon me for me,
You should've told me sooner.

Ili Z Norizan May 11

She grew up,
Seeing her reflections,
A contorted view of imperfections,
Something she wishes to fix,
But have no idea how to,
As she struggles with her inner demons,
Making a deal with the devil,
And not knowing if there's comfort in shadows,
Or trouble lurking in the corners,
Of her mind.

She grew up,
Over the years,
Hoping to make sense of things,
Of why she's unlike the others,
Who never seems to falter,
Constantly having those as eager,
To know and love them,
When she keeps on finding dead ends,
In the company of those she wishes to avoid,
As though she goes around looking for trouble,
When all she's ever done,
Was search for the one,
She could call her own.

She grew up,
With ever blink of an eye,
She changed and built herself,
Upon the remains of her long forgotten past,
The ruins of regrets and lessons learned,
And as time flashes before her,
Her next steps were slow and steady,
Firmly grounded,
Yet her head held high,
Up in the clouds,
Where kingdoms of dreams,
Worked their magic,
Reminding her that she's writing a fantasy,
Not another tragedy.


Paige Apr 26

To be a girl it means that you are frail, right?
That can’t possibly understand a thing
To be a girl it means you stay up day and night
Trying to get that big, shiny ring

But that’s not true, for a majority that is
We have a secret passed down from mother to daughter
The secret is that we pretend to be his
But our hearts belong to one and another

At age 6 being a girl meant you liked pink and played with dolls
But that changed
At age 8 being a girl meant you liked skirts, dresses, bows
That changed too
At age 10 being a girl meant that you were expected to have a crush & kiss him
If you didn’t, you were an outcast
At age 12 your interest in education was to diminish
By age 14 you realized that when a boy slapped your ass, you enjoyed it
And if you didn’t you were a lesbian
Ages 12-18 we as girls are told to not show shoulders, knees or skin of any kind because it might distract the boys
I never heard the guys being told to dress a certain way. Have you?
No? I didn’t think so because it might ruin their ego…

Being a girl means that you are blessed with self hate
It’s automatic and hard to lose
There is always an imperfection…

Being a girl means that even when it’s hot, you wear jeans and a baggy tee
So that you don’t have to deal with wondering eyes
Being a girl means that you must look your best ALWAYS or else you’re trash
But not too good or else you’re a slut looking for a good time

Being a girl means that you grow to hate yourself so much that you can’t even look at yourself
Unless you are in public, then you have to act vain

Being a girl means that you have to listen to guys calling you fake because you hate a girl but you’re friends with her the next day
What those guys don’t know is that she saved you from a situation that could’ve made you lose what little dignity you have left

Being a girl means that when you see a grown man starring at a baby… take that baby’s spot
If that means you have to be his princess, babygirl, WHATEVER, for the night
And when you are called a whore, slut the next day, just remember that you helped that child

Being a girl means that when you’re a mother and your little girl asks you why the boys at the school rate the girls on a scale of 1-10 you have to look at her with the same look your mother gave you and tell her,
That being a girl means that you have to be smart, that you have to work 2-3 jobs just to make the same as a guy with 1 job
      It’s not fair, but that is how it is.  

You have to hug your baby girl when she comes home and tells you that her teacher yelled at her for wearing a tanktop or when a boy touches her even when she told him to stop
To be be a girl means that your are strong
To be a girl means that you are resilient

To be a girl means that you have a secret that is passed down from mother to daughter
And that secret is Unity

I remember things like this happening to some of the strongest women I know...
I wish that I could also do it from a guy's p.o.v but I really can't relate to that
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