"I AM NOT afraid, i was born to do this" please, jehanne la pucelle--
here, humming, the constant
burn whilst he--inkspinner--mollifies and
****** ****** skin
I AM NOT
afraid--the hum, epauliere lying
heavy, cumbersome--my shoulders are broad and
moth eaten, trembling, waste;
mom, my canines hurt; i have to
show my teeth.
there are gauntlets in my skin, mom, licks of
fever-heat beneath my heels.
I draw the Weary longsword.
"I AM the drum." see: i too spit blood, raise the banner; are we the drum, all
you and i? watch the masses close in.
conflagration inferno round and round;
the sting of flesh, the weight,
the ache in my gums; the
drum, which GOD beats out HIS message please, mom, it
hurts. please, jehanne, it hurts please beg me BE NOT AFRAID

The darkness of my own kind shoots daggers through my soul
Their eyes with the last flicker of light leave my saddened thought
How could one akin to me have a heart as black as coal?
The string of fate the ones different they have fought

Even with similar address, together not alike
Different to another, both disbanding
Never did anything except teach how to fight
Similar from another, neither understanding

Because of its whiteness
The White House is fattist
And racist and səxist
And thissist and thattist
     And agist and apist
     And probly a ******.

(Inspired by Carlo C Gomez’s ‘The Lacemaker‘)

We’re manufactured girls,
designed to be beautiful and pointless.

Everything we tell you has to be true,
we feel we can open up to you.

We’re decorated and prepared for sacrifice.

We can touch your tender isolation
and reinforce your inadequate truths.

We can mirror your internal struggles
and help you shape your damnation.

You’ve caressed our powerless distress
a thousand times, with sleep's dark hands.

Don’t feel your destroying something beautiful

You know, when privately accessible
in the darkness of your man cave
our soft, immediate shapes
excuse extraordinary behavior.

That’s all we want.
.
.
A song for this:
Genesis. by RAYE

Bumble, I find it quite ironic
that your mascot is a Bee.

Not only have you chosen a mascot
who belongs to a dying species
(good men are also a dying species,
I'm afraid) but you have chosen a mascot
who is known to sting.

Tell me, Bumble, if I am the one
who is being stung does that mean
he will drop dead immediately
after stinging me?

Or is he just a No-Good-Wasp
that will never be held
accountable for his
mistreatment of women?

We are wo
morpheme for
man.

But I see your pain, sisters.

I acknowledge it.

I validate it;

I gift us the vowel
e

w o e

for we will not stay broken
while men claim the throne to

whole

the nature of a woman is pain
she lives in silence
not a nail in sole would rouse her
she is not perturbed
but you will believe it
so she won't make a sound
for her voice is deafening
billowing with accusations and slander
how could woman not be happy in her confinement?
she is exactly how she should be
when she is small, mute, and most of all unremarkable
no woman should have the gall to look a man deep in his eye
if not without her clothes
so keep your head down *****
or you will be dealt with
man has the power
the strength
the resources and
the will
to take you
to **** you
to **** you
learn now and in earnest
lest your beauty or pride dissuade you
from finding your place in this world

men down the alley
don't care for the person
that they hunt
they care for
the prey like manner
of the scared

Girls of greatness must make haste,
for men of the very same stature start up a few pace!