We lament,
our woes,
our naked ring fingers,
and our cold mattresses,
we indulge in our vices
justifying the gluttony
with broken hearts.
My comrades and I
we bond over the futility of love,
the battle that is romance,
and in coming together,
we make one another strong,
condemning the ignorant male swill for their lust,
their objectifying ways,
their Godless, scheming hearts
that leave no room for us,
and we bemoan
the fault that keeps a man from binding himself to a woman
But the truth is...
I love it.
I smile inwardly as I spin lies that keep me in my cups without question,
and at home in peace without argument.
I nod in affirmation as my acquiantances curse the carnal seed that brought man forth,
but the truth is,
I love it.
Primal nature
is far more satisfying to me
than the boring, blustering outsides
of a man with no personality.
The tedious conversation required by polite society,
and the obligation to know him,
no matter how Nothing he may be...
The truth is,
I would rather create an adventure,
something to truly stimulate my senses,
something to rouse the animal in me,
as opposed to tranquilizing my loins.
The truth is,
when a man releases me from his embrace,
a rush of endorphins thrusts me into the streets,
and I fly through the night like Margarita on her broomstick,
wild and unfettered,
pink-cheeked and laughing,
naked and free...
the truth is,
there's a thrill,
in taking a man,
giving him what he thinks he wants,
taking what you need,
and ending with the drop of a guillotine,
and the blade never dulls,
the game never loses its charm,
and the truth is,
I never tire of it.
Brutal Not Comfort
The soldiers of Nippon descended upon Asia in a vast horde of death.                              

Fighting anyone who dared oppose them, killing their enemies without mercy. Destroying everything from isolated houses to entire cities.                                        

Decades of looking inwards bred an evil military dictatorship.                                          

Only two atom bombs changed that.                                                                                      

But a story remains untold.                                                                                              

Hidden by silence and silenced by death.                                                                      

Imperial Japanese Army soldiers didn't just fight and kill, they raped as-well.                  '

Comfort Women' stolen from Asia.                                                                                

'Liberated' from Korea, the Philippines, China and elsewhere.                                              

Sex slaves shown no mercy by their unfeeling enemy.                                            

Sexual violence of the worst kind.                                                                                

Hundreds of thousands of women were raped, beaten, abused, tortured, made infertile and murdered at 'comfort stations.'                                                                                  

The Emperor's soldiers taking fully liberty with no reluctance.                                            

Nearly seventy years after Japanese unconditional surrender, no apology has been given.                                                                                                                          

Opposite the Japanese embassy in Seoul stands a statue.                                                                                  

Not of a soldier or tank but of a woman.                                                                          

People dress her whatever the weather and demonstrate there for an apology.                  

She is a reminder and a memorial to women affected by the rape of war.                            

In the private recesses of their minds, what do the Japanese diplomats feel?            

Tension remains at the highest level, almost outliving that lost generation.                        

In South Korea only a few still live.                                                                                        

Tell this story to students of history.                                                                                                    

Put it next to the Holocaust and area bombing raids so this never happens again.
T R S 4d
Charming, Changing Women flutter about me
And I drank the heavy stout
And was surprised by the heaviness I've since lived without.

I don't feel pain
I promise
I'm fun, and honest
We had a spark that dazzled the two of us.
The spark that set me up in flames.

I struggled not to burn.
But the more I did, the more I burned,

Spreading like a wildfire within me,
Devouring everything within its path,
Incarcerating my hopes, my dreams,
My everything.

I feared the fire consuming me,
But I realized that it’s not.
Instead it’s purifying me
So I surrendered to its flames.

You see me burning down to ashes
And dying a thousand deaths.

But from these ashes I shall emerge
Clothed in nothing but my strength,
More beautiful than ever before.

Watch my resurrection…
I am Phoenix… rising.

©Penchie Limbo
Strong women fall, but they do not stay fallen on the ground.  They get up, dust themselves up and rise again and become stronger, wiser and braver than ever before.
The anguish in this alienating aloneness is alarmingly enlightening
I am aware as the colors of my aura
fade from vibrant to mute
A spiraling sense of self grasps at false promises of hope or help
Each face that shows itself as an ally is simply mirage or ghost
Or wisps of nothingness I probably hallucinated to cope
I am an anchor in a rushing tide
Life floods by with no more than a glance over the shoulder
Some collide from behind urging me to move on, frustrated when I don’t align with their idea of time
I need to be unapologetically ‘not ok’
Imagine my electric shock when I find that’s not an option
The anguish in this alienating aloneness is alarmingly enlightening
Ryan 1d
Building futures for the youths -
The promising ones, anyway.
And all the defective and imperfect ones
Get put aside, or thrown away.

Achieve perfection,
Society tells us.
And if you can’t, accept your place.
Don't start a fuss.

Men should be tall,
Men should be brave.
As men we are, to these expectations,
A slave.

Women should be pretty,
Shaped like an hourglass.
Doing as they're told,
And never speaking back with sass.

Men should be emotionless,
Never to shed a tear,
And they should be confident,
Without an ounce of fear.

Women should be housewives,
And should be good at cooking.
My, how would she find a man
If she weren’t good looking?

The elderly are peaceful,
And, of course, very healthy.
But are you really successful
If you aren't extremely wealthy?

Children should be calm
And in public, almost silent.
They must refrain from their instincts
Of acting unharmingly violent.

I urge you,
Do not conform.
Society is merely trying to put you
In another uniform.
*Water is fluid, soft, and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft, and yielding will overcome whatever is rigid and hard. This is another paradox: what is soft is strong. *

― Quote by Lao Tzu

You touch me
from the depths
of my broken

You move me
gently to mend

what bold
alchemy is this

Turning my skin into
fine silk

I am renewed
by your fingers that
lightly tickle me into

You are water
I am the stone
Where there is softness you'll find strength.
You breathe in light
and exhale glitter-
Everything you touch
becomes magic.
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