#womensrights
I have oil rigs beneath my skin
Machines drill behind my bones
My body is my sin
By power it is owned
No man could ever comprehend
The pain of simply being,
Only my heart can be my end
Behind the skin you’re seeing
Morsels of my past and present
Tangled
In mangled
Intestine.
That’s right where you'd want to be;
Deep inside
The dark machine.
To conquer me is to fulfill your need,
And feed your shameful lust.
My ending lies in your hands,
Take advantage of my
Fruitful land.
Aug 9, 2025
Aug 9, 2025 at 7:05 PM UTC
I walk down to the Pegnitz river.
I walk along the banks of green and white flowers —
a quiet place of respite,
smelling both sweet and fowl.
Both the crow and the swan venture on its water’s roof,
never daring to enter the house that man has built.
She lay below and looked up to see,
the black eyes of an eager crow
glaring through the glass.
To cry underwater is not impossible, to learn is fatal.
A baby’s cry can never be silenced in the mind of a mother.
A girl with no direction,
pulled through life by a man’s cruel hands,
In the name of the father!
A mother must pay.
But it is only she who knows that water
cannot wash her sins away.
She stares back at the world - taken from her.
Will anyone visit?
Utter sweet prayers?
Send the mocking crow away?
I throw a lump in the crow’s direction.
It scraws into the sky.
The wise swan takes the bread.
Instead of death,
I sent her a swan instead.
Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 7:14 AM UTC
So cut me into pieces then
Grab my hair, my head and hands
And bury them deep
6 feet under where
I will not rest nor will I sleep
Tortured within this system
A living doll played by sick men
Men waiting to die like me
Standing in line to die next
Like I have
I have died a million times
Each in the wounded hearts of every little girl
Been sliced in ruin with no words
To speak, to sing or carry this song
No not for me—they move along
The dead can't speak
Only eyes from a mother's son
Oh, how they will keep
Keep and keep and keep
Greedy little calloused hands
Attached to those who
Deserve such bitter ends
You have taken everything
Played with this corpse too long
Decay and decompose what
Little life may I bring
You have swallowed them whole
No sweet, soft sounds
Only hellish cries that grow
From bloodthirsty hounds
And Gods, you have taken
Every little ******* thing
From us—the dead
who can no longer sing.
Jul 4, 2025
Jul 4, 2025 at 12:58 AM UTC
Maybe I’m not strong enough,
To carry man’s weight. My back wasn’t made
For empty promises, lack of understanding.
You feel no attraction to me. Yet,
You yearn for me. You tell your father about
Everything I do. You break chains
For me.
Where are Stonewall’s bricks?
Thrown in windows, wooden
Doors.
Doors that mean nothing,
Because my heart is elsewhere.
Maybe God is not strong enough,
To carry man’s weight.
You use his name in vain,
To carry out your warfare on
A peaceful race.
Mar 3, 2025
Mar 3, 2025 at 9:41 PM UTC
"What in the world happened!"
An innocent cliche,
We hear it every day,
At work, at home, at play.
"You don't say!"
A congenial comment?
Perhaps,
but...
Be careful what you say.
It could add to the maelstrom
That's becomes unfriendly fire.
Arguments in... arguments out.
Trash in, trash comes out.
That shouldn't surprise us.
The unseen whisperers make silent decisions,
Unheard among the raging shouts.
Who understands
How it went wrong.
The Why is easy.
But How.
How in the world did it happen?
I can't say.
High School doesn't seem to be enough.
Men feel threatened.
Not enough black hats are being unhorsed.
Women do very well
Walking over coals and broken glass,
In stilettos, clogs, mules,
Bare footed.
They will be revenged.
How in God's name did this happen?
Such unwarranted blasphemy.
Oct 8, 2024
Oct 8, 2024 at 6:49 PM UTC
Wearing comfortable clothing is what I desire
And if that is a purple g-string with a pair of high rise low cut shorts
You best say "good morning"
And if that is a pair of bell bottom jeans that do not press tight
against my hips with a long sleeve pink sweater
You ought to say “good afternoon”
If I please sugar in my coffee or no
coffee but instead a warm swif of chamomile
tea you best hand me the cup and show
brotherly love to your sister
If in my womb a child grows or I decide
It does not grow
You ought to stand by me but you best
leave that choice to me
Dec 29, 2021
Dec 29, 2021 at 9:34 AM UTC
Wipe me down Inside out
Turn the music up to drown Me out
Liberated women but no words come out.
Make me shiny, better than before/
This is the better way
Even maple trees, those of pine
Aspen, cherry, and oak
My rawness was beautiful, but needed a different touch
Wipe me down Outside in, I can't remember who I was Before-
Render to silence or invasive compliance
Our mothers are seeds of time
Having branches they want to climb
Now that I'm older-
Polish
Me
Down
I am a woman before my time.
~Bre Womble
5/30/2020
May 30, 2020
May 30, 2020 at 11:59 PM UTC
all i ask is for you to treat me as your equal,
so i don't have to fight with all my might.
all i ask is to be loved the same way you love my brothers
is it not only right?
all i ask is to be recognised when i achieve,
without dismissive comment.
all i ask is for you to allow me to express myself freely,
to be free of judgement, even if just for a moment.
all i ask i to not be the one to blame,
when i had to face the torment of assault.
all i ask is for this to come to an end,
please just bring it to a halt.
Dec 2, 2019
Dec 2, 2019 at 12:55 AM UTC
She’s seen for what she wears
for what's beneath the fabric,
Nothing more, nothing less.
She can’t stop what's going to happen next,
But that's her fault.
It’s just a regular day for you and everyone else like you.
Just something to do and forget about later.
You can act impulsively,
But it's her and everyone else like her who has to live in fear about that.
Not you,
Nor the ones who make the rules.
The ones without a care in their minds about this are the ones who are in control of her decisions.
The ones who don’t need to think about what they wear,
Where they are,
Or who they’re with,
Are the ones making her think about them.
She’s living in handcuffs and its as if this is a mockery of her.
Are you just testing her to see if the handcuffs are secure?
That they’re fully locked?
Don’t worry.
They can’t come undone.
You won’t let them come undone.
And that's just how it works.
We need to hold your hand.
We need to follow you, the leader.
We need to change ourselves because it's our problem.
We are the scapegoats to the polluted minds of the animals in control of us.
It's our skin, our body,
That we will have to live the rest of our lives with.
But since it's our body, it's our fault.
Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 11:36 PM UTC
The world has messed up now. You can’t put the art of God in the hands of politicians and call it divine rights.
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 12:40 AM UTC
_
what women have
birthed man tried
to put asunder
but no more
shall the fires of our
labor be put out by
egotistical men
slopping around
the earth like castrated
pigs covered in their own
filth. what women have birthed
no man shall put asunder.
_
May 7, 2019
May 7, 2019 at 11:43 PM UTC
Outrage, it's a curious thing.
How faux furious voice brings
Spurious poise to previous
noise; Hoist the flag of lies high,
Cos boys will be boys right?
She sits dignified, polite
With right on her side, but
The light shines poor on her
Recurring their eyes concur
How this fight must confer
Nothing on her but a slight.
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 10:32 AM UTC
i've always been angry
it has been a burning in my bones
an acid in my stomach
a restless warrior in my head.
some may say
i came into this world
looking for a fight.
but i'd argue that when i was born
the fight found me.
it was passed down
from generations of women
with hands branded into their bodies
and tongues cut out of their bloodied mouths.
i yearn for rest
but their stories push me back into the ring.
there is work to be done
fights to be won
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 7:35 PM UTC
I am a faceless creature
Turned into a sexualized doll
Little girls soon will grow into a toy
Watch your back little girl
Be beautiful
Be the someone the beast wants you to be
Evil is real
Love is rare
They want you for that moment in time
Not because of your worth
But because of those pretty little legs they can spread
Lie their turning the sound of your crying into a sexualized moan
They won’t even know their pleasure
Is the same scars you cut into your body
Trying to get them out of you
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
Wake up to the AA, never a day without.
look to the news, schools out?
Its only April.
Another protest i cant make,
another protest
another protest,
yet no change.
My youth being killed everyday unjustified because of people's hatred.
A threat he was
12 he was, 14 he was,15,16,19,40,36,32.....he was a threat.
17 killed today because of "bulling" i suppose, he was just ill an broken,
poor him right? right.
1000 more suicide a 1000 more hate crimes at its lowest this month.
more murders than anything against the people who just want to love; who want to live the way they want.
My friends heartbroken
families being ripped apart, wondering if they'll be the next to go.
Our leaders are full of hatred, making fun of the ill, no respect for the women.
because of that i no longer have rights to my body, not like i had them really anyway.
No means No,
but your distracting the staff ma'am that's against school dress code,
go home and cover up your collar bone.
I'm 14.
You'r making it hard for the adult staff... ya'know
The pedo's we hired to teach you, the ones that make YOU uncomfortable.
cover up,
that'a all we ask. ;)
yours truly,
. . .
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
The eyes that pierce me,
with threats beyond words.
I cant help what im going through.
I can't have it; no not at all.
Can't live without me,
but i dont want it inside me.
I can't have it... I can't.
It's my choice;
isn't it?
I cry and I cry.
But they don't care bout my pain,
They care about the cell who cant even ******* breath yet.
The cell that can't let me breath yet.
The cell that was forced upon me, the cell that hurts me
when i even try to think about it.
That's the cell they care about....
not me.
yours truly,
. . .
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 7:12 PM UTC
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.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 9:37 AM UTC
feminism fails
when it disregards
those of color
for we know that every dollar
a woman makes
a man makes more
we seem to disregard the bit
where a women of color
make even less
than their white counterparts
feminism needs to stop
excluding
disregarding
those impacted most
it's a hazard to progress
pull up a chair
scoot down the bench
it's time we serve up
intersectional feminism
for the table can hold more
there's plenty of progress to go around
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 12:24 PM UTC
when i got my first period,
i was thrilled.
marked with the crimson stroke of womanhood,
i was no longer a little girl.
i was no longer too young
to be a part of the whispered gossip filled conversations
of the women in my family.
my sister and i could share boxes of pads and tampons,
bottles of advil and naproxen.
i was no longer too young to go bra shopping,
too young to understand.
i could read Teen Vogue and relate to every word,
i was a woman.
no one told me that it was now okay.
it was now okay for men to comment
on my new chest.
it was now okay for boys to yell their
tube sock dreams of my wider hips.
no longer protected by the shield of childhood,
it was now okay.
while i experienced many new things
after that first visit from Aunt Flow,
i also began to feel things i had not felt before.
an unexplained, unwarranted hatred of
the body i lived in,
my burden of anxiety heightened
with raging hormones in my blood,
mood swings worsening the monster
living under my brain named depression.
red spots on my face that boys liked to make fun of
as if their faces were not acne warzones themselves.
another growth spurt, as if i was not already towering
above the other girls in my class.
“don’t let anyone see your pad when you go to the bathroom to change,”
my friend whispered to me at school,
“it’s inappropriate.”
“don’t say period in front of boys,
it’s gross.”
“don’t talk about puberty,
boys think it’s unattractive.”
suddenly i realized that my body
was not for myself
and it was my responsibility
to act like I didn’t feel like there were
earthquakes in my ******
it was my responsibility to hide my new body,
because my education was not as important
as the pervy boys in my math class.
it was my responsibility to not bleed through
my new jeans,
and miss class because i’m crying in the
bathroom as i call my mother to bring me
a change of clothes.
because being a woman is unattractive,
but when she’s half naked on the cover of ******* we like it.
because spreading your legs open for a ******
is gross,
but when a man is in between them it’s hot.
because a woman’s body was never for women,
unless it’s ****** and crampy,
then we don’t want to hear about it.
i am here to say that Womanhood is for women.
i am here to say that young girls should take pride
in their new bodies.
your body is yours and no one else’s
and you should never feel ashamed of it.
you should never feel shame
when the crimson wave comes.
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 10:21 PM UTC
.
i.
The morning mist dissipated
as the ships keel ploughed a furrow
through the Great Green of the Aegean,
leaving far behind the magick isle.
Vigilantos stood at the prow,
marvelling at the accompanying dolphins,
curious and playful,
schooling with purpose to the ocean.
Ahead, waiting, a grand tour.
Of Sumer, Abyssinia and desert lands,
to glean hidden knowledge,
regain the mysteries of the ancients,
read the Necronomicon and old scripts
from a time when power crackled,
and the storms of the gods
belittled the existence of mankind.
ii.
The twilight Moon peeps
from behind the brazen grey cloud.
And she weaves hap-hazard
through the crushes of the crowd.
A high-born daughter of the desert,
a vision of beauty from the sand.
With silks and satin and perfume
richly obtained from foreign lands.
Through the colourful bazaar she threads
with occasional glances thrown at stalls,
priestess jewels sparkle in the night,
its her Name the sirocco calls.
iii.
Cobalt blue water, an illusion of light
where the sun slides through the meniscus,
and the harbour of Tyre was alive.
The bustling of boats around ships at anchor,
snatching glimpses of a turquoise sky
and the quay throbbing with the pulse of music.
It would be another 3 thousand years
before Rome was even a trading post on the Tiber,
let alone an empire conquering the east,
or building hippodromes and columned avenues.
Vigilantos drank in the atmosphere,
his magicians instincts bristling, noting all.
Meandering through the narrow streets,
loosely following direction, getting lost.
Seeking his retinue and camels, ready to start,
across the desert to Ninevah on the Tigris.
To speak to tribes, pray with the priests of Ur.
To find the secrets of mysteries, and treasure,
reaping the knowledge of the Old Gods awe,
amongst the shifting dunes of history.
iv.
Vivid colours of silks and dyes
adorn the tents of cloth and stick.
The summer sun beats down lazy,
heat as oppressive as mist is thick.
Her charms and delights are hidden,
with misery and pain, the last week spent.
The dark, the quiet, the inane chatter,
deep within the women's red tent.
Free from the curse, her moon-cycle complete,
she wanders with mood sombre and slow.
A powerful man from a western place
will arrive at the camp as the sun sinks low.
He had seen her in the main bazaar
and decided to stake his claim.
Whilst confined away, behind her back,
her father had bartered for riches and fame.
v.
His travels around those beautiful lands
had yielded books of law and scripts.
He had heard the oral traditions of elders
and gazed in wonder at the Moon's eclipse.
Then he had seen the greatest treasure
wending her way through crowded markets.
With tact and guile he discovered her Name,
and vowed to grace her father's carpets.
The desert folk live a simple life
but far from simple are they.
Sharp of tongue and quick of wit,
erudite in a most unusual way.
The father was the elected leader,
King of the tribe that he now led.
Vigilantos had bargained hard
to purchase the girl for his marital bed.
vi.
The sun sinks, falling from the sky in the eve.
Spectacular reds and orange colliding with the dunes.
The azure twilight sky lit and sprinkled with stars,
and the tribal camp fills with laughter and tunes.
vii
He walked with purpose toward the campfire,
his features silhouetted by flickering light.
The sudden hush of the assembled camp
echoed strange, deep into the desert night.
His eyes beheld her most beautiful form,
half in the shadow, half in the light.
For her families benefit he had traded,
agreed bargains, and come to claim his right.
“Princess of the desert, Daughter of the sand,
step forward gently and take me by the hand.
For my island home calls out loud to me,
so come, let us away across the sea”.
Head bowed in fake submission
she boldly makes her cold admission.
“I am a Woman of the free,
these sands are my home to me.
With all good grace; I could not face
life on an island in the sea”.
viii.
Black and red, darkness and rage
descend upon his fevered mind.
Humiliated, spurned by a maiden fair,
and pride will not be left behind.
“A curse. A curse. 'pon thy beautiful head,
prowl and creep as do the undead.
Evil deeds are now thy course,
henceforth our contract is now divorced”.
But something made Vigilantos start,
a pang of something from his dead heart.
With such feelings he could not contend,
so a caveat, for the curse to amend.
“Thy deeds and crimes maybe invested
'pon mortals only who invest the same such evil
'pon their fellow mortals”.
ix.
Leaving far behind the desert
he turns his face to the sky.
The ships keel ploughs a furrow
as the evening mist draws nigh.
And now she prowls the dark night,
her Name lost in the sands of time.
Seeking out the mortal sinners and
punishing their evil with her crimes.
... and thus it begins ...
Judderwitch.
© Pagan Paul (08/08/17)
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
Are my shoulders too promiscuous for you, sir?
Can you not control yourself?
Are you the reason I fear my walks home?
The answer is yes
The answer is no
Why can you not comprehend that?
It wasn't my skirt or my alcohol's fault
It was you
You and your obscene shouts that you call compliments
I have to disagree
Please don't follow me home
I didn't ask for this
Nor did my Mother ask for you to brush your hand up her skirt
Why are you not listening to me?
We are not silent beings there for your pleasure and satisfaction
We are not your objects
Do not degrade us to the fabric we wear on our skin
Do not touch us without our consent
We are not here to play your sick games
We do not exist for you
I don't exist for you
Neither do my sisters across the world
Do not underestimate us
For we can spark rebellions
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 5:12 PM UTC
Wage Gap exists
Don't believe me?
Than why did the US Female Soccer Team get paid $2 million and the men got paid $30 million?
Women have made some substantial improvements
I've taken notice
But we still have a lot more progress to go.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 9:13 PM UTC
Was that little six year old girl walking home from her bus stop ready to tell her mother about her first day of school asking for it?
Was the teenage girl asking for it by walking to the restroom?
What about a mother? Was she asking for it by making a trip to the grocery store?
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 12:06 PM UTC
Does anyone truly know,
The meaning behind the thread?
It represents fourteen women,
Who as of December 6 lay dead.
We should all take time to remember,
All the lives that were lost.
To appreciate the lives they lived,
Because their lives were cost.
Violence against women is wrong,
As everyone should see.
We are all equal in all ways,
Which is how things need to be.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 7:01 PM UTC
I cannot believe the **** culture that exists in these modern times. We, as Women live life thinking that our rights have have come a long way since those times when we had little to none but have they really? Have our rights gone anywhere when we are still, now WARNED about **** when we are told ‘you need to be careful, you’re vulnerable, watch out for **** Why is it our responsibility to not be ***** why is it not our responsibility as a nation to educate our young Men on **** to educate them on a Woman’s right to say ‘No’ and to not have it ignored, argued with or discussed, to have it accepted, respected. Why is this placed upon our shoulders, something for us to guard against, something for us to worry about as we walk down a street, as we walk through our towns and something for us to be blamed for when we wear a short skirt, a tank top, tight jeans and are therefore ‘asking for it’. I was warned about being ***** today on the bus, an old man said to me ‘you be careful, you watch out, a young woman with a body like yours’. This is the body God gave me, this is the gender God gave me, this is the woman that God made me and why should I therefore have to protect myself against being ***** because of it? This is **** culture and it needs to change NOW.
How can this be accepted? How can we ignore this when we have daughters, granddaughters, sisters, nieces, friends, sons, grandsons, brothers being raised with this perspective, this ideology, this **** culture?
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC