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Joseph C Ogbonna Jul 2023
I am his punching bag,
he punches me at will,
he punches me to vent his anger,
he does so to douse his frustrations.
He tries to regulate my emotions,
he entrenches himself fastidiously
in my life's branches.

My constant battery is his love's
justification.
To him, none else could care better,
not even my own sacrificial mum.
In my secular and public life,
his raging jealousy is hardly concealed.
I am his only mood swing's spectator,
I am enslaved by regular and
suicidal threats.
I must to his own will remain subservient
for my own dear children's survival.
Not even my domestic pets are spared.
My movement is restrained, every
friend of mine is a suspect,
and my conversations are thoroughly
scrutinized.
His watchful eyes are never exhausted
by prying.
He makes my life a world of suspicion
and espionage.
My conscience is daily by blame overwhelmed.
I am worthless and hardly esteemed, and can on
none else rely.
I have no better friend or acquaintance than him.
My inferior gender is a social stigma,
hence I am closeted with his unquestionable
desires.

I must please him to the utmost
with my food, chores and body;
My meals must sate his insatiable appetite
with the very best cuisines of his choice.
My house chores must be flawless in dexterity
for his perfectionist requests to please.
At bed time my **** and body curves
must gratify and gratify his ****** proclivities,
even at my own very expense.
A married Nigerian lady's poetic narrative about domestic violence
Zywa Jun 2023
It's Friday the thirteenth
again. I stay at home
due to circumstances:

a dragging wind
and storming sirens
The cameras break

taboos and peek
into windowless sleeping
rooms, front pieces

after the wind of roughskirts
who celebrate their gains
in stinking silence. I close

the curtains, my eyes and mouth
I'm not here, hello hello
don't you see I'm not here

and I can do nothing about it -
absent due to circumstances
which I can do nothing about
Collection "Blown sand"
Carlo C Gomez Jun 2023
Trending upload:
saturized,
desensitized

Caught in the inner workings,
those ducks in a pond

The sound of clicks in rapid
s-t-a-c-c-a-t-o

Don't run or fall, but film

Send us transmission

A moment in a fish bowl,
looking out at life on a screen

It didn't come bundled
with the phone

The gulf of dissonance
started long before
The act of recording a violent event but staying silent is a modern manifestation of the bystander effect.
Man Jun 2023
I say
You don't respect my feelings,
And am met with silence.
I tell you,
Ours will die its death
Without an ounce of violence.
Is it so, if it is lifeless?
Little Bear Apr 2023
Once upon a time there was a girl
and the girl was ...
the girl was...
okay so,
she just was okay..
she just was
(i am not sure)

and she met a ... man?

he was a man but not an ordinary man.
he was ...
he was.....
loud and dangerous and kind
(only sometimes)
and he broke things.
(hearts,flowers,wooden doors,promises,
the virginity of girls)

But she didn't know that because, he was ... deceiving
(and just out of prison)
and utterly charming and 10 years older...
(but he wasn't like this every day, just most of them)

she was a child (15)
but he did love her
and she did believe him.

But then...
she was also in love with him
because she was
(after many years, co-dependent)

And from day one,
he would twist her words and make her feel
like she was going crazy

(she knew this because, this is what he told her she was)

And he would get angry and use his fists
and his voice to control her.

Also i forgot to tell you.
Her older brother used to look
in the crack of her bedroom door and watch her.
One day he asked her if he could touch her.
She was was 10
but she said no a lot of times before he believed her.

When her mum came up to say goodnight,
she was crying
(the girl)
and she told her Mum what had happened
The mum made the brother come in
and say sorry
and give the girl a hug
and to say sorry...

other things happened over the years that were creepy
(as ****)
including a handsy uncle
and a inappropriate series of
touching and kissing
from an older male house guest
who stayed until he got his own place.

The brother continued to 'watch'

So anyway,
the girl was under no illusion that
she was not to ask for things to be normal
and for things to not happen to her
that she didn't like
and to ask for her boundaries to be respected,
it was not something you just asked for
or expected...

so she stopped doing that and was silent instead
and stopped eating

and had anxiety and panic attacks
but she was told
she was not allowed to have them either,
so she turned inside herself
and stayed there

where in the corner of her mind,
in a very small room,
where only flowers grow
and the sun shines
and the sky was blue
she was safe.

So they got married.
Because that life was better than the brother/uncle/guest traumas
and she was girl who was scared
and co-dependent and wishing things
were going to be better one day.

And she was quite sure he
(her now husband)
would sleep
with other people
because some nights
he would not come home
and he would be angry
when she would ask why,
and he would say...
because she didn't give him
(as much ***)
as he deserved

so it would be her fault if he went elsewhere

(he said he had not but, if he had, it would have been her fault)

so she didn't ask anymore
because he would throw things at her

he would throw things from around the house
(an iron, a handful of coins, pliers, a hammer, his fists, lies, spiteful and cruel words)

All of them she remembered forever

So he closed her eyes and instead
she could only see through his eyes
just how stupid she was.

And how wrong and broken and twisted
she was.

And because she was wrong and broken and twisted,
she had no right
to ask for kindness.

or to ask for help.

Or to ask that
he touch softly
instead of like a creature
who did not care


for 18 years.


and then perchance

she watched a program on the telly

how people were in prison
for doing the things he had done
but they were normal
Right?
these things were normal for her

She was lucky he didn't hit harder
do all the things he did... More

and on the telly, they said that,
she was one of the people
who were...
Lucky to be alive

And she cried

and she was happy that she had found out
that she was lucky to be alive.

(not the end)
Kris Fireheart Apr 2023
My home. My safe place!
My sanctuary of peace and calm!

Deaf as I am,  I'm glad to have friends,
When someone tries to steal from my mom!

So we kept watch, over her van,
Seeing the shadows of an unknown man,

We're suited and booted; my knife
And his gun,
And we're ready to take him,
Or force him to run!

******* all,  I have work
In the morning,
But I'll be ****** if we don't
Send him a warning!

Our shout brought him out,
And we watched him run,
To go steal elsewhere,
But he'll have no fun!

Not here; not now.
At my grandmother's house.
So I stand and I shake,
Eyes wide open; awake,

A knife at my side, with
My rage as my guide.
Hell no! Not here!
Not now!

My home.  My safe place,
My sanctuary of calm!
So I await the coming sunrise;
No one ***** with my mom!
Someone tried to steal my grandma's van tonight. So the adrenaline has overpowered my sleeping pills, and now I'm stuck with the urge to ****. But that's fine by me; I'll stay awake! I work tomorrow,  but I'll never be late.
Noelle Matthews Mar 2023
the night after the covenant school shooting, i was at work.

a man comes in and is very kind to me,
seems kind to his wife as well. but he turns and i see something on his hip, a holster. and the gun.

now, i live in tennessee. the sight was not too strange, but so unsettling after what had just happened. how could he walk around openly carrying the same weapon that had killed people just hours before?

how could he bring a firearm into our store, after hearing about those deaths?

these prayers to gods who don’t hear us are not working, and our government does not know how to protect us in ways that matter. we can scream at the top of our lungs that it isn’t fair, but it will fall on deaf ears.

as a child in america, i am terrified every day. terrified that my brothers will not make it home after i drop them off. terrified that my mom will pick up the wrong substitute teaching job. terrified that my best friends will not graduate with me because this country is more focused on how people represent themselves rather than what is killing us.

i am seventeen and i am so tired of being scared for my ******* life. there is blood on the floor and on our hands and in our memories and we practice hiding in our classrooms and workplaces because it is real. these kids were real and now they are dead.
Carlo C Gomez Feb 2023
~
The name on my lips
is a prophecy

An unsustainable breath of life

It sparks revolutions
both for and against

To say it is to pray it
in a word, a phrase, a life sentence

And it lies scattered on the beach

Put your ear to a seashell
and listen

Listen for the sound of terrible canyons of static

Of plastic birds
decomposing trees

Things we lost in the fire

Listen for the starvation tapes

For the voice of people who eat darkness
and make big fires out every little syllable

Listen for the work of reformatting spiders
spinning social webs to burden and ensnare
naïve reckless hearts

Listen for the heartless aftermath
and the building blocks of sheer madness

Listen for the sound of weeping
at the memory of peace

~
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