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K Oct 12
Voices all day seem to criticize like buzzing flies,
like tyrants with their wooden Fists,
and raging impulses.
they say -
stupid **** loser -
bad, horrid

and I wonder why,
why are they saying these things?
behind closed doors and in crowded hallways,
behind the fence crouched and quiet-
I am nothing to them
I'm scared of them and I wish that they were gone...
I am just nothing
K Oct 11
Isn't it funny,
How we use staples for paper,
To save for later,
To organize our thoughts,
In funny colors,
For each other.
Isn't it funny,
They stapled your head,
With similar staples,
Shiny and red.
You tipped your hat to the employee at the entrance,
She screamed,
And we laughed,
Our one and only defense.
K Oct 11
Hit my throat like a boxer,
Smoke my lungs out,
Then open my mouth like a skunky VW bus-
Pick my brain up,
Light up.
Swirl up into the sky,
Adamant you're worth it to die.
R B M Sep 24
Building in the workshop, slowly fixing a little girl
who looked up to this extraordinary man who loved her so much
Even without the same bloodline in their veins, she chose him out of seven.
He didn’t seem as though he was disappointed or ashamed of her.
He just loved to see her happy, while building toys and rabbit traps.
Loved seeing her smile as he taught her how to use the saw
and cut through her family’s civil war
And hammer the nails, called bad feelings down into her mood board,
Knock, Knock, Knock, Slam

Sitting on the porch with a not as little girl at his side,
Watching the birds, and the deer, and the grass.
He sees the inner bickering, in the girls head.
She had figured out that she was broken,
She just wanted to be fixed.
He wanted her to know
That walking on old broken glass from the once clear window
Will only cut you more and make you bleed harder.
So he handed her the mood board
And started to read aloud charlotte's web,
As the little taps began.
Knock, Knock, Knock, Slam.

Laying, cold as a corpse in his hospital bed,
She never saw it but it’s was she went through her head
As her mother, one morning, deadpanned that Bob was dead.
My favorite grandparent had died
For months on end, the moderately grownup girl couldn’t get it outta her head,
That she refused to look at him the last time that she could
Because she was afraid that he was empty, that he was different,
That the purely good man was slipping out.
She hadn’t been with him when he finally needed her help.
So she cried when no one was looking and missed so bad.
Broke down in the places she felt the least broken.
She went to her first funeral as the only child there.
Her mood board has one spot left,
She’d been saving for the day that lung cancer won
So she pounded out one more
Knock, Knock, Knock, SLAM.
When I slam,
I am more human
Than humanity before me.

When I slam,
I am the queen
Bathed in poet glory.

When I slam,
I am mine alone.
No other beings touch me.

When I slam,
I am a warrior.
Syllables learn to fear me.
Performing slam poetry, is when I feel most confident. It makes it all worth it.
Jenay Jarvis Nov 2012
I want to sink my teeth,
Into your lobes-
I want you now,
I want you close,
Inappropriate behavior,
In the back of a car,
You’re just not here and
Four hours is too far,

Thoughts of scenarios;
My leather jacket,
Thigh highs and,
Your skin; like magnets,
Your teeth and,
Clinging to cabinets,
Your tongue- THAT jaw,
Come closer,
I’ll un-cage my bra-
And arch my spine,
If you restrain my wrists,
Scraping my nails across your back,
And yours sinking into my hips,
You can watch,
The back of my head pull up from,
Generic damask sheets,
100 thread count and I don’t give a ****-
I won’t be discreet.

You can rip into my hair,
And I’ll rip into your pores,
With uneven nails,
Leaning on all fours,
We can always take it slow,
Yes, we can keep it sweet,
I just want you so badly,
I can’t contain the heat.
Kay-Rosa Aug 21
There are things
I wished I'dve said to her
when I had the chance, There are days
when I wish I would've spoken my mind.
And there are times
when I wonder why I didn't, But now in the revelation
of my possible success
I wish her
by my side, though metaphorically amd emotionally she always will be
but physically
I need her support.
Just like she needed mine.
But, millions and millions of miles away it feels
from her comforting glance, from the inexplicable
she granted me, the
she bestowed in my heart and now I wish
I wish she was somehow here again.
This was an original piece I performed at a poetry slam in Jersey, enjoyed the rhythm of the delivery.
Shelby Finger Aug 15
What am I? I am a woman.
A woman fully equipped with an understanding that can only be achieved through exposure to atomic *******. After twenty-eight years of familiarity with the follies of man, I’ve grown. I’ve grown into wisdom, I’ve grown as a mother, sister, daughter.
I’ve also LITERALLY grown. I’m an eighty foot tall spectacle.

For the ****, abuse, **** pics, war, objectification, toxicity, and laws of MAN, I arise from the depths. My frame paints a terrifying silhouette against the sunset streaked horizon.
I am an atomic monstrosity, a giantess hellbent on conquering YOUR world: to rampage is an understatement.
Donning a crown of destruction, with massive hands dripping in palpable carnage, I am a disastrous threat to YOUR society.

Run for your lives, mother *******. We are all transforming. Women are GROWING in 2020. We are gnashing, stomping, fire breathing vehicles of YOUR apocalypse. We brought you into this world, surely we can take you out. You done ****** up.

Collectively, we are making our debut. You won’t know it until we’re looking down on you. Most will be eaten, some will be spared (you know, not “ALL” guys). Your tiny lifeless bodies will litter in the streets, but only for the day—
It’s a new dawn, and we she-monsters clean up our ******* messes.
What are you staring at?
why are you watching me?
is it my wheelchair?
is it my hair?
or is it the fact that you can't tell exactly where i fit
on your ******* binary?
I belong in there
that bathroom, over there
the one with the urinals and the ****-stained floor
i hate the smell in there but it's where i belong
and you can't take that from me
i built who i am
from leftover scraps
i was a porcelain doll held together
with gum and scotch tape you
you can't hold me back
i'm still repairing myself i'm still enforcing that this
this is where i belong
this is my place too
and i'll always use a stall because even if i did get both surgeries
you'd still stare at me
wondering why there's a girl in here
but guess what
i am guy nor girl
i am only chaos
chaos, like toupees flying through a windy suburban golf course
the chaos that tore my porcelain skin apart
peeled up every **** last layer of my paint
took my family and some of my so-called friends with it
well guess what
i can replace you
i can choose new people to fill
that echoing void
the place you held
the place you gave up
because you'd rather have a dead daughter
than a living somewhat-son
So many of you are toxic Christians but don't know it because you pray so much you forget to open your eyes and look at the real world
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