"blackwell" poems
'Feminism'
A word poisoned with stereotypes
A noun sprinkled with hate
A collection of letters looked at as a curse
We are taught at a very young age how society works
Where men and women stand
Men are meant to climb the social ladder to the highest point
While women 'stay in the kitchen'
A sentence thrown around like an old baseball
A constellation of words that has been whipped at women since the beginning of time
Have you ever been hit by a ball?
It stings
Guess what
So do those words
Susan B. Anthony fought long and hard to get women equal rights
Susan B. Anthony did not fight long and hard for women to be accused for wearing a skirt that is too short
Elizabeth Blackwell became a doctor to prove that women can do any job a man can do
Elizabeth Blackwell did not become a doctor to get paid less than a man for doing the same job
Judy Chicago wrote a book on feminism to create a movement
Judy Chicago did not write a book on feminism to have feminists looked at like criminals
We do not belong in the kitchen
We belong exactly where men belong
Right next to them
Wherever they may be
We are not creatures
We are not servants
We are not your cat so please stop calling at us like we are one on the street
We are women
We are strong
We are brave
We feel
We hurt
Have you noticed that men are all those things too?
We are equals
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 8:26 AM UTC
"No one wants to "Retire" - they just want an excuse to do what they love."
- Sir Blackwell
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
I get asked
"How do you write?"
"Why do you write?"
The answer is simple
I write because
I have to write
I can either
write or
throw myself
off of something.
I write.
You go to therapy.
I write because
someone
somewhere
connects with
these words I
put down.
**** that.
I write for
Me.
If I happen to
connect to the world
then great.
But I write.
My insanity is
my salvation.
I scratch at
the nerves of
repressed emotions.
I create to not destroy.
I am my salvation.
Then again,
My raw, eloquently
worded vulgarity
might be your
salvation as well.
If it is not
then let us all
rejoice in
Hell
knowing that
we built the
bridge of
sin ourselves.
And we crossed
it towards the
fire knowing
that the fire
belonged to
us.
We are all creators.
Yet some
were built to destroy
and smirk as the
world disintegrates
around us.
We built the fire.
We breath the ashes.
We bathe in the blood
Like i said,
**** it
I write for me
because if not
I shall ******
instead of ending
myself.
How narcissistic,
typical writer
hahahaha.
S.P. Blackwell
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC
she's all foxed up,
but me i'm an empty mess.
in one of my favorite songs by fall out boy
she's a little black dress.
the party is happening elsewhere,
i know i might sound whiny but come on
i don't mean to be rude, or mean
but i have to deal with my old, conservative parents
who have such redeeming values but are so boring
okay not my mom but her emotions run her life WAIT!
OK, WAIT! I am doing it again.
I'm allowing myself to be this thing
Let me show you how this happens in motion,
I give up on it,
Let me show you how I'm king.
And I ******* will, Will
I remember you cheating on me with Will!
The party's happening elsewhere, where you are,
my ex-girlfriend, who told me I was paranoid
who said I needed help but she was cheating on me! GASP
What a terrible thing, what a terrible ******* thing
To have gotten so mad about. Cause nothing, NOTHING NOW
Is going to get in my way. Pure white empathy rings in my synapses,
It will snap into action and find what it's looking for
A culture of volunteers, out there in the world.
Witty fingers clip away at awkwardness, form a truly impressive
set of musical skills. My linguistic mind is roving,
Singing some mysterious song in the universe, the meaning of which
I don't even know! She's all foxed up
And look, some handsome ******* devil in the mirror,
I think I know him.
I think we'll have
To schedule a rendesvous
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 10:57 PM UTC