Brianna 40m

It has to scare them to think there are some girls out there who run towards the wilderness instead of away from it.
To think some beautiful gypsy fairy is wandering into the big, scary woods at night to face her demons.
To imagine what it must be like as she glides into the night in a simple dress, barefoot and brave.

It has to be scary for the fathers who try so hard to protect their daughters to know they can fend for themselves.
Knowing their babies are out there wandering and exploring- dreaming of conquering all the world has to offer.
Knowing they are using the lessons you taught them but changing the rules so that a man doesn't have to save them.

It has to be scary for the men who can't handle that women don't need them in their lives.
To know that the more you put us down the stronger we are going to get.
To know the more you tell us we can't do something- the better we can and will do it.

I has to be scary knowing there are some women out there brave enough to fight.
To know that some women can wear high heels and lipstick and still kick your ass.
To imagine what it must be like as she lets her curiosity take over and her dreams become reality.

He's a self indulgent pig, a piece of shit
you should of seen from the start,
I stared at him but did not judge,
though I did silently;
choosing to believe
the lie you sold yourself -
but he still did it anyway, didn't he?

The Pig squeals

"A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all fall down"

In that moment you should of ran,
faster than any muscle of man,
but you didn't did you? You made excuses, covered his tracks,
"He's sorry"
tell me where are you now?
hmm, Where are you now?
I ponder with pen at this late hour.

Is he Man?
Or an Obscene NurglePig-
"Worse than that, so End it" I said.

"He's sorry"

My eyes rolled deepset and sucked into the back of my head
for a lifeless eternity;
when those words left your lips,
I saw how weak you could truly be-
It horrified me.

The weakness of women, just another broken dame;
If I still yet had a heart that pulsed
I'd chuckle, Grimly, then maybe
- cry alone to forgot,
Thanks for that.

If you want a blunt that doesn't bruise - Truth.
Formless of agenda,
swallow this pill and listen;

Let's see-
you didn't run did you?
You stayed clawed to floor,
I had to soothe your sores, and talk;
Listen to your woes, another year.
of tolerating presence, burning eyes,

I'm not sorry for what he did, if it wasn't me why would I be?
Maybe not so much now. I buried it, It's forgotten, sadly buried,
another woman's secret I'll add to my portfolio;
something that somehow become my responsibility to bear.
Guess what- stopped caring, Keep your own, Adults.

There will come a day I won't be at the bottom
of the stairs he threw you down,
commonly scarred and mottled, broken in my garden,
Weeping, the reasons plainly evident -
a piglet's insecurity.

And I'll just be standing there in a dark room beating his filthy
fucking face into a puddle of pulp,
then the pulp into a puddle,
then the puddle to chunks for the endless void,
grab that final chunk of flesh and throw the empty
carcass to the fucking dogs.

The dead pig revealed, screaming in agony
pathetic red stain on the floor,
more gore than the heaviest flow.
How's that for a show?
Best show ever, Period.

Bye for now, and don't take me for a fool;
Your compassionate tool-
Because I am not that,
and neither are you.

Poem about domestic abuse and being in the middle of that shit.
and feeling powerless, regret and that. Trigger warning I guess

When I was young,
I had long curly hair
That cascaded down my back
Like an ominous waterfall;
So dark and thick, it seemed to go on forever.
But, when I was in school, it was always tied up.
It was a challenge for my mother to tame it with a brush
And keep it in the confines of a bun.
She said it was to keep my hair
from getting to my and others’ faces.
But some people still managed to make me feel bad for having such “unruly” hair
when the most it’s been exposed is when I take out my hair tie just to tie it back up again.
For years I tried to straighten it;
Hair rebonding every year,
Straightening iron ever morning,
Damaged hair and damaged pride every day.

They say a woman’s hair is her crown;
She must wear it with her chin up
And flaunt it unabashedly.
This is to the girls who do.
This is to the girls who dye their hair magnificent colors
To match their colorful personalities.
This is to the girls who cut their own hair
Because hair salons charge so much for a trim.
This is to the girls who shave all their hair for charity
Or for support of the girls in chemotherapy.
But this is also for the girls in chemotherapy,
Who are still thriving even though they’re suffering.
This is also to the girls whose hair are being treated like an anomaly,
Their braids being pulled and afros being patted.
This is also to the girls who can’t land a job
Because their skills were degraded by their “unprofessional” hair.

A woman’s hair is her crown
But a queen does not need a crown.
A queen is not just some girl with a shiny thing on her head.
A queen is a figure of power, compassion and grace.
She wears the crown, not the other way around.

a poem about hair

playing games with these things
creating perfect images
of me.
this body such a fickle object
a sight to be seen
hey even the moon has her seams.
but continues to shine bright
as any star ive ever seen.
but judgement is the only energy
that is passing.
when you look at me
what exactly are you examining?
there are literally 1,000,000 women
whom as beautiful as me.
at this rate you'll spend your whole life
looking up to
which is fine with me.

Engeli 6d

Her sophistication
But inner beauty and strength
His downfall

what's between her legs has always demanded attention.
but spoken from her lips
she dare not mention.
the glory that is boasted
about women so divine.
from your place or mine.
always seems to drip from the lips of
the secrets you expect for her to keep
will always amount to us suffering.
oh how easy it becomes to single
them out,
make her weak.
turn them into the prey
we love worshipping.

Bickering Children

Party Lines

Obsessing over "better times"

That no longer apply

To our current situation

Old men whose futures are short at best

Telling me what to do with my uterus


Some thoughts I am having before my meeting with Senator Joni Ernst. I'll finish it later, but not too shabby for writing it in 2 minutes.

White Buffalo

So intense,
she is,
with her visions of saving the world,
she is,
a White Buffalo…

so when she expresses her lofty aspirations,
and she regrets her past oppressions,
she tells me that when she tells them,
her visions of saving the world,
they tell her she can’t fulfill them,

I tell her she can,
I tell her she can do anything she wishes,
because there is a significant difference,
between possibilities and probabilities,
and just because something is improbable it is not impossible,

honestly if she has visions to save the world,
she should pursue such honorable pursuits,


don’t ever let anyone,
tell you you can’t do anything,
give no energy to the lethargic cynics,
don’t let other people’s broken dreams,
fracture the magical dreams you have,

you are,
a White Buffalo,
you are,
a medicine women,
you represent,
divine feminine energy,
you are a healer,
you with all your attributes,
are in a prefect position,
to overcome all oppressions,

please help,
help heal this planet,
help heal humanity,
from all the harm that Man has caused,
we need the healing power of Woman,

has done so much damage,
but not too much damage,
to not be able to reverse this curse,
let her heal this humanity that hurts,

holy Goddess,
hold me honest,
rest me upon your bosom,
this world’s in trouble,
let’s make love platonic,

let’s create what they said we couldn’t,

it be great,
if we could,
take down the wooden stake,
that’s been used to crucify our Lord,

this is,
all getting,
too intense,
to be ignored,

we need,
a woman leader,
because woman is the true healer,
and every man should bow before her,
I am ready to surrender my ego for sure,

no cure,
can come from the poison,
has been too intrusive,
with it’s ways that’ve been forced in,

without consent,
He’s impregnated hatred in this matrix,
created the meanest fetus,
then made her birth it no abortion,
is not meant to mean yes when it’s said through coercion,

stop raping the world,
consent is not meant to mean yes when it’s said through coercion,

we all want to find Hope,
we’re just not sure where Hope went,
this is all so incredibly intense,

So intense,
she is,
with her visions of saving the world,
she is,
a White Buffalo…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

from '777' available worldwide

Anja Jul 16

I am
Mostly dependent
On independent people
Especially when they’re women—
Especially when they’re you.

You, with your
High-pitched laugh and your
Dark hair up and your
Pride loud but your
Voice louder and

I am dependent
And most days I repent it
To have my body and
Soul and
Heart and
Head in

And you
have your head and—
Your head.
And that’s, you say,
What you like in me.
That’s the takeaway:
My academic
Not the late nights spent
Holding you or the
Times I went
To comfort you
Or the energy used
To convince you
it’s true:
You are

Enough, I said
On the floor
I told myself
I couldn’t do this

Am a person
Not a therapist
Per se
A laborer
A construction worker
for you
And me
And us but
Even I can’t fix a
One-way street,
Not me.

Although sometimes I’d like to—
Especially when you look at me the way you do and
Lift my skirt and break the rules
And scream louder than
Anyone else,

You ghost-like figure
Presence-less, you sometimes-mess
And yet I insist to
Chase you
but you’re the one who will haunt me
through and through,
You and your fucked-up ways
To show
After all,
There is not space for me
in ‘I.’

But then I remember
The way you defy
Expectations—including mine
and every time
You deny
that you are afraid
For your life
But let me tell you
So am I
Afraid for my heart when we’re apart
But lately also
When we are together.

See, I knew this wasn’t forever
But I thought the end was yet to come,
Not yesterday.
Or I guess maybe it was
Right at the start—
The first time you kissed me
And the first time I missed you
When you didn’t miss me,

And now you have me here
In this space
This in-between,
And I,
A basket case—
Wishing that
I wasn’t here
I wasn’t queer
That maybe if I found a man
I could spare myself this
Late-night pain and
Post-drink drain
I will find a husband and
A house to stay in with
a white-picket fence and
that I am numb so that
I won’t feel happiness
but I won’t feel loss
I won’t feel like this
Ever again.

So here I am and
Although it’s different this time around
I am still bound
by my roots
And my wounds and my soul.
This may make me dependent but at least
When I said I loved you I meant it—
Yes, I am in love with you,
From the start, everyone knew
And they told me to
And run I did
Right toward you
You, my gone-too-soon,
And I am
A fool.

this poem sounds the best when it's performed, but I hope you also enjoy the written version.
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