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Calla Fuqua Dec 2019
We were all born crying,
And sometimes I think that even our tiny bodies could already feel the pressure of an unfair world.
A world where women’s bodies are a prize to be won or an object to rank.
A world where people obey the sign in the museum that says “Do Not Touch”,
And those same people decide that it’s a suggestion when a woman says “Do not touch”

Hands on my body before my first period.
Not sweet hands like sweet caroline.
Before, evil was something I used to look for in Disney villains, now, it’s eyes are everywhere, glued to my 17 year old body.
It’s in my neighborhood, in my coffee shop, in my bed. It whispers me shakespearean sonnets and tells me I’m ****.
Runs its fingers up and down my spine, zig zagging over the bone. Its kisses are soft and gentle, like springtime. It makes me feel important and deserving.
Then the sonnets turn from Romeo and Juliet to Macbeth, and It tells me:

****** thou art; ****** will be thy end.

Touching hands, not sweet hands.
Hard, cold, unloving, cigarette stained hands.
Cold hands on my beautiful body, my spectacular self.
I call out to nothing, and nothing responds.
I sink deeper into the bed, wanting time to stop, fast forward, or rewind or something.
I wait for the sonnets to end, and the pain to go away.
I wait for grass to grow and paint to dry.
And then it stops

and I am not me.
Lou May 2019
Boy, oh boy
Will boys be boys
And oh boy, that’s gross to say,

I at least get that,
I mean I try to but here’s to trying

Kind of like trying to speak for women
Or anyone that isn’t you,
you should just not do that…

There’s a difference in defense for the good of all
And then, there’s what we were talking about 50 ******* years ago

Oh, excuse me 30 ******* years ago,
Last ******* year…
2 ******* days ago…
OK RIGHT THE **** NOW…

But I really want to go back to 69
Oh, The Summer of love…
Or the summer of forcing a woman to go to court over the ability to receive an abortion only to be decided by a group of old men if she has any rights over her body to receive a safe medical procedure, all while  the media doing no one any favors guiding a blind division nationally between people and God fearing busy bodies, calling her names and questioning her character as a responsible person, in a not very god-fearing tone, all while forcing Ms. McCorvey again, to get burned more for prolonging an unwanted pregnancy due to waiting on a decision that is determined in court by that aforementioned group of men, which is like the sportsman’s equivalent of just killing the clock to win a game but it isn’t a ******* game it’s a woman’s body, which clearly they didn’t care anything about just as long as they get that **** baby in the next 6 months or so, but as stated above it is indeed unwanted, so really who is going to take care of the ******* baby because we know how much people just love adopting ******* children?
Let’s ask 25 republicans!

But some people talk of 69 differently,

Some remember the Beatles.
Some recall Charles Manson.

Kind of like today
Some say we are putting god back in our government
And The rest of us in 1972 to 2019 are wondering who the **** invited god?
I never knew God and every white person’s, “one uncle” has the same opinion.
Amazing!
But Uncle Alabama shouldn’t speak for God.
Wait until he finds out she’s a woman.
That’d be a kick to the unregulated nuts we can just spew anywhere, like a natural ******* disaster.

That’s what the name of this ******* poem should be,
but it’s not.

Sincere, *******.
That’s what I call this one,
That’s what I call the last 2 and half years too.
And this poem.

And telling women what to do with their bodies.

Some people would think differently.
But I don’t think some people think.
roe vs. wade, alabama wants to go to court
Badshah Khan Mar 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) - 68

BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem.

"The World cannot Exist without the Water'

Same way, any descendant or being can't be Exist without a Women"

Happy Women's Day to All.....

Allah Khair.....Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem.

Ummah Thurab - Badshah Khan.
©UT-BK 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust)
Toxic yeti Mar 2019
Better listen to me
This dead woman
Is talking
You should’ve
Treated me right
And not cheat
You may have found
Love.  
Shall this convo begin in hell


Salambo
Salambo

Better to listen to me
This dead woman is
Talking
You shouldn’t be
Racist
You should’ve
Been open minded
You may have found
Love
Shall this convo begin in hell

Salambo
Salambo

Better to listen to me
This dead woman is
Talking
You should’ve
Not beat me
You should’ve worshipped me
A goddess
You may have found
love
Shall the convo begin in hell.

Hide run scream fight
You can’t fight devious
Goddess.  

Salambo.
Not that is inspired by PIGs song salambo
it was a starry night
whirlpool of wind kissed her locks
dressed in a white dress
she embraced the fragrance of roses
light-eyed eyes light up with hopes
she walked silently over the road

unknown to the swing of destiny
she walked under the numerous stars
assuming it was a moonlit path -
though it was a moonless night
believing in her undying belief -
and thinking the world is still pure.

what happened with her
was never the question
she was now distorted and ripped
neither it were her clothes
nor her messed up locks
but only and only her soul!
Time is to tell a story. Every girl becomes a Cinderella for herself atleast for one moment of her life.
Eliza Hale Sep 2018
The leading cause of death for pregnant women is ******.
Givers of life should be fortified
Instead, their screams echo because no one heard her
Tender touches turn to purple hand-prints with two simple words,

" I'm pregnant."

Affairs are always understandable
Until two becomes three
Then the situation must be immediately handled
Then three becomes one so a marriage and a reputation is saved

But no one saved her.

Eating for two, sleeping for two, living for two
But the two are dying. The two are being murdered.
Killed by the one person who once suffocated them with love, now turn their lips blue
Voices shriek that abortion is wrong, but the voices hush when the one killed is the mom.

Quiet as the morgue she now lays in.
This is my first political piece, I just felt really passionate about this topic so let me know what you think!
I used to be that girl
Had a roof over my head,
but not sheltered
Prison was my abode
Tied down by a ring on my finger And a piece of paper
Signed away my liberty
Sealed it with a kiss
I guess not everyone
Who kisses you loves you Remember Judas Iscariot?
His kiss marked the fountain-head Of Jesus' tribulation
As your kiss marked mine
My smile was beatific
When all around me was pulverizing to dust
I counterfeited contentment Comforted myself with false hope
That things would change
Yet getting worse and worse by the day
Reposing with the adversary Night after night
Fights, arguments and misunderstandings
Were a daily norm
Time is yet to heal
What immeasurable, intense Torture has done to my heart
A tattered and marred spirit
How can time mend
Feelings of loneliness and betrayal, battered and molested
Is there an end
To this barbaric nature
Hard indeed it is to accept
When the one who's supposed to love
Becomes your greatest nightmare I was there
Walked in these shoes
Shed the same tears
Learnt the hard way,
That I have to stand and fight Fight for my freedom
And the independence of my children
I found the victor in me
And not the victim I refused to be another
Statistic of domestic violence
I drew strength from within
And walked away.
Dedicated to every woman living in abuse. You are not a victim. You are a Victor. You just need to draw strength from deep within and recover your dignity. You are not alone. Many walked have walked this road with you and survived although some were not so lucky. But you are alive, arise and walk away! Stand up and fight for your freedom. You were created to be loved and cherished and not abused.
I love you.... whoever you are.
Kathryn Crowley May 2018
This poem is now a song on https://soundcloud.com/musicalroutes

Soft day in general
some went off to pray at the cathedral
In our way we gave thanks
Sunset end of day temple riverbank.

Your eyes shone full of life
Living the dream in the west
where you believed that you had a choice

Remembering
Savita
Oh
gentle vibes forever flowing wild.

So how many more must Ireland lose?
How many more before stopping the abuse?
Don’t follow blindly crazy preachers
Healthcare  basic feature.

Remembering Savita
Oh gentle vibes
Forever flowing wild.

Lack of true compassion must be a virus
Cults and politicians just desire us
But today the cure is here
Light will replace
Light will replace the fear
For every woman
Future generations.
For a free download of my song, go to my Soundcloud page or send me a message if you'd like me to E-mail you a copy.
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