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kiran goswami Mar 2021
I like women's day.

It is the only day,
When men finally respect women

For 24 hours straight.
MLD Feb 2021
First l thought it was the skin color
Then l saw some dude who killed his brother over inheritance, I then thought maybe its the mula
A few days later l saw some rich Portuguese dude who had hanged himself, they said it was about a mulher
So my question is "Is violence an essential part of our being"
neha Feb 2021
(imagine and picture your FAVOURITE THEATRE
remember that the SETTING tonight is
the stage you built)

first, i went to air my ***** laundry out
cautiously and deftly peel off the skin
from all the places touched and fold it up neatly
away, to be put into drawers
and brought out to wallow
on nights like these

the unmaking of a person is violent, yes
but it dully smells, too.
it is ***** and reeking with sharp dried sweat
wicked away in the cold
i go to fold away the memory of that cold
of my - huh, what’s the word -
b-b-b-bravery braced bent back breaking
on the side of a road that gritted its teeth

and i go to put the loneliness away too
in a suffocating airing cupboard
to not let it draw breath while it
watches the world go by
through a faltering crack in the door

INTERLUDE

(what did you do, those of you sat in the wings
and those of you pulling the strings
you washed your hands, reflexively.
you washed your hands again and again.
so nobody would think this dirt rubbed off)

now i am expected to empty the dishwasher
in front of a yawning kitchen window that
lets in not a chill but a blizzard and i am
unclothed unloading the dishes
i try to cover myself with a plate but there are
accusing eyes at the window here
to gawp at nakedness whilst i stacked bowls
into the teetering towers of a tiring told tale
i drop a misplaced cup and step on it
fall over -
doing a jig of pain, red hot embarrassing
feet dribbling lazy scarlet on the wet floor
what a spectacle, what a show, encore?

(and for those of you in the front row
i am deeply sorry.
proximity is pricier and more painful
and what i regret about this graceless fall
is that you had to witness it at all)

but all that’s left is to sweep the floor
so then i kneel down and sit there legs in dust,
inhaling until my bones are sandpaper and
chafing against the inside of my skin.
draw the curtain and

let me sit a while, please. in this dirt.
let me sit a while in this dirt.
oh, i know. i know my knees are white and
it is settling into my hair and inside my eyes
but i just want to sit here and be *****.
i have the broom - i am holding it, see?
to sweep away and brush apart and
pack it all up into a breathlessly shiny sack
but not just yet

(bored now, you make to leave)

unfinished i step underwater
but the shower is scalding and yes -
yes the ash falls off and the hollow thud
becomes a wet sludge
eking itself through the drain
leaving a grand total of nothing behind.

(SPOTLIGHT: and suddenly! the airing cupboard bursts open and reveals that the piles of laundry still reek, stinking sharply of sweat and ***! and it seems my dishes are still *****, lines of grease splattering down the clay! oh and the floor is just as gritty, smudging oil into the creases!

you in the wings, tired of this PLOT TWIST
you pulling the strings - wishing to cut them
you in front, i am sorry again but -

i can’t bear to try and clean again so -
let me sit and pretend, please
yes, yes, in this dirt with the curtain drawn
just a little bit more and i will get over it and
go through another spring of cleaning onstage so
please, let me -
let me sit here just a little while longer.)
Keys between my knuckles
As I hurry to my car
This place still aint safe
At least not after dark

I've been female for thirty one years
My *** is abundantly clear
When I cannot walk outside at night
Without my friend called Fear

Keys between my knuckles
Pepper spray clutched in my hand
What can I say to these Testosterone Tyrants
To make them understand?

This place is still not equal
When half of us are afraid
I want to stay up late
Walk the streets and know I'm safe

Boys will be boys
They will rarely be men
The protectors became predators
It's a hard truth to accept

Keys between my knuckles
As I hurry to my car
This world is still not safe yet
At least not for us
this world is still not safe yet
at least not for us
Ephraim Feb 2021
convened
in my living room
summoned to a setcat
to decide by voulbee or fratricide
the next Father of Thieves.

Blahznivee Semyon rises up
like a winter sun over the steppe
peels off his sable coat and hat
he garnishes round after round of applause
for his tattooist's magnificent skill,
and the number of skulls etched in his skin
one skull for every ****.

Arkady the Krahsnee comes to the front
draws a cross across his chest,
wipes caviar from his pickled lips
sheds his necklace of bloated tongues ripped
from the mouths of informants who sing
and with a halo of bicycle chain whirling overhead
steps drunkenly into the ring

The display turns black
chairs are pushed back
***** in every hand.
The soldiers prepare
with a toast and a prayer
and a drop of blood from each man.

Now squaring off
Dva Rusahky:
a fat taloostee,
the other slim-tenki
wade into the fray:

bez nervee, t-shirts, boatkee or fear
they destroy my hanging chandelier
their bratvas stand around and cheer
pass round smokes and mugs of beer.

Černobog’s hammer sits
inside a chalk line circle
like an *******
waiting for a fist.
Black stars collide
shoulders knees torsos
wheel thrown into ****** slabs
hole punched and wire cut
falling on cigarette butts
nicotine thumbs empty eye sockets
vitreous runs and pools
seeps into screaming mouths
through mangled cheeks.

Teeth litter my rug
like chiclets in berry jam.

Here's a finger,
make a splinter
wounds are washed
in chilled Żubrówka.

Semyon lifts the hammer, the winner
a new skull in his flesh, still wet
when he buys my silence
with a Russian dinner
and a round of Russian roulette.
Some of the words in this story are deliberate misspellings of Czech.
Spicy Digits Feb 2021
I made myself so.
So small
For so long
So talk over me,
I won't mind,
I made myself so.

So quieten me,
If it's what you need.
A speechless soul,
I silenced myself so.

Daddy didn't see you
So take your aim
Argue and I will cower.
I taught myself so.

Spread corrosive untruth,
Use me and chew me out,
I oppressed myself so.

I see the end light,
And imminent reprieve.
So do what you like,
I'll make myself so.

I unpeeled my skin
And started again
I lost you and them
And started again.

I made myself so.
Can Morning forget the violence of the Night?

For gentle dew to replace emboldened strikes
that a bird's song answers echoed screams
and glittering haze overtakes peppered smoke

Does Night whisper through the day
found in streams of pressure
empty gallons
torn paper
discarded masks
shattered glass

That Night's ***** fingers
grasping
clawing
scratching the surface of a past
carefully hidden
bleeds through pristine learned pages
to words unspoken

bandages wrapped
milk poured
least the wound bring feared change

the silvered light, a true new Morning
true dawn bursting forth in honest reconciliation
not forgetting
not forgiving

but forward

Morning and Night
pushing

but can Morning  further meaning of Night
Graff1980 Feb 2021
Say goodnight
to that psychopathic
narcistic guy.

You all used to say
you were about to make
America great.

So, say goodbye
to that uncouth
wanna cause
a violent coup
dipstick dude
who many of you
were following
through to
treason.

Must be a
hard pill to swallow
cause you haven’t taken
the medicine
of getting rid of him
and accepting
the election.

Such a bad *******
for the fool who
won’t move on
fast enough.
Instead, he is
getting everyone
riled up
and stealing money.

It’s not even funny,
how he hurt so many.
It’s a cold chilly January
as he tries to dismember
that capitol with his fans.
Then throws them
under the bus.

This is how he uses
and abuses his stooges,
just ask Mike Pence.

So, forth hence
say farewell
to the ne’er-do-well.
He might not be
going to hell,
but if we are lucky,
he will be going to jail.
kiran goswami Feb 2021
This is one interesting day
when my father gifts makeup kits and concealers
to my mother

To hide the slap marks gifted to her a day ago.
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