for a woman
all too often
it's not about
that precedes her
but rather unfairly
like a stalker
it's what follows
closely behind her
If men had a curfew lives would change in many ways
But there’s some setbacks to the attempt of fun outside
When I’m not with muscular friends past a certain time of day
I’m told to cover up my bra strap because the boys become distracted
Since “boys will be boys” reigns and girls pretend to be attracted
What if I could eat a burger in a bar without the need to feel guilty about my diet
And when I’m asked if I think I’m fat I say no, because it’s fishing for compliments to deny it
I’m told that I should be complacent and dress nice by a man three times my age
And scolded by society because it’s unladylike to be in a fit of rage
I could go outside and gaze at the dance the stars know so well
But I sing along with the peculiar song of that familiar cautionary bell
What if I could go out with friends past eight PM and explore the bright! Happy! world
Stagger through life in heels with our wit sharpened and eyelashes curled
No, I have to spend my time hidden “safe” inside
From men who think there’s no more to me than what they can see with the naked eye
This has happened ever since I turned the ripe old age of 13
Because there’s some people out there on the streets
Whom it would be an injustice to only be described as mean
I could walk out to my car without my hand poised with my keys as if they were a knife
And not have to worry about how a short low-cut dress could harm my life
(Me too) It could be worse! They say, for some reason with such force.
But since when was my safety
A cause for discourse?
I had to write a poem for my 10th grade english class on my relationship with society. I took the opportunity to make something great that I cared about and I hope that everyone can take some time to appreciate it
Why are teenage boys so aggressive?
I can take care of myself, thank you.
Do they think violence is impressive?
I can fight my own battles, thank you.
Are they trying to be protective?
I don't need a bodyguard, thank you.
Are they all so very possessive?
I don't belong to anyone, thank you.
As a woman, I don't need my boyfriend's help to make me feel incapable, society helps all us women plenty on that front. I've had enough.
when a bunch of old Senate men
and some intimidated women
voted to heave
an accused ******
and proven liar with an alcohol problem
given to irascible outbursts, fits of self-pity
and insulting comments on women
into a lifelong seat on the highest court in the nation
against voluminous evidence of his lacking qualifications
the statue of the Goddess of Justice
whom a former attorney general
had all covered up in blue cloth
dropped her sword and scales
tore off her blindfold
and covered her naked ******* in shame
Apropos the U.S. senate 's decision to nominate Brett Kavanaugh for the Supreme Court
By Arcassin Burnham
Pleasure , Pleasure,
Pleasurable desire to be pleasured,
And be looked into when love has this
measure, I could put this all together.
Sexist , sexist,
Thinking women could be ****** objects,
To be appalled in this transaction to look
good in that leather, I could put this together.
This Is a new experience.
This is a new experience.For me
This is a new experience.
With your inherent privilege
Please, make another joke
About ****** harassment
It's funny right?
Especially because you're joking that
Your male coworker is sexually harassing you
Gay jokes are funny too, huh?
That's the same male coworker
Who I had to explain
Just hours beforehand
How the ****** encounter he described
Did not include informed consent
I'm curious how you'll fare
After I told the manager
About the content of your jokes
(Not the proudly homophobic one,
Who then looked uncomfortable
But seemed pleased when I told him that
I had already called you out
Because that means he doesn't have to
Because he wouldn't anyways
It doesn't affect him
Just some harmless humor
So then I tell my coworker about your joke
Who then responds with:
"He's still doing that ****?"
Because no one there seems to care
About jokes that put me
The only person at work read as a girl
(Which I'm not by the way)
In an extremely uncomfortable position
Why is no one else uncomfortable?
Why does no one else say anything?
They're all like you
Or they don't want you to judge them
Because you have that power
Because you're a
It was a long night at work tonight. I don't have the emotional energy for this ****.
Calling out dead poets
as sexists or rapists or users
is the opposite of woke enlightenment.
The poet’s job is not to censor
his experiences or his madness
for sanitized comforts.
The poet’s truth is his gift
of insight, a naked wisdom
of hard love and difficult choices.
Narrow fools so often absorb
this sweat and blood poured onto the page.
After their souls are satisfied,
that’s when the fools unsheath
the long sword of ignorance
and ****** the blade square
in the poet’s back.
Read more. PittsburghPoet.com
They say that one hundred years ago
Women ‘earned’ the right to vote
It makes you wonder what men did
To earn that right before us.
It must’ve been something pretty impressive.
man once said to woman:
you fight like a girl
and she replied:
and you fight like a man
and he said:
that is because i am one
and she said:
and he looked confused
and she said:
i fight like a girl because i am one
When I was young I promised myself that when I grew up and got hot,
If I ever got cat-called, I would react.
I would scream,
Kick the bumper of their car,
Throw my overpriced drink in their face,
Be angry be ******,
Take no **** from anyone who dared to look at me.
I grew up.
I'm not hot,
I'm okay enough to look at,
Okay enough to earn the attention of two middle aged children in a ****** silver four door car.
I promised myself
I would react.
Took another faulty step
Felt my ankle struggle under the weight
The ends of my pants brushing my toes
Blood rising to my face.
Not a blush.
I was not flattered.
My mind in flames.
The heat trapped by my mouth
Glued shut by $20 lipstick from a brand owned by someone who hates what I am.
Didn't I promise myself?
I didn't react.
Hardly moved a muscle.
Too slow to even furrow my manicured eyebrows in rage.
I know now
That the world will always be cruel.
And the world will always think I'm
So what good is having my own pretty face
When everyone else thinks that it's theirs?
Nobody will ever own me
Not even myself.