"catcalls" poems
Scars scattered on my skin,
Pain storming deep within,
Yet, I am proud to say,
I'm a survivor;
Catcalls are a norm,
Yet I don't wish to conform,
To the societal rules,
Because I'm a survivor;
I've seen life at its worst,
I've been through so much that I could burst,
But I won't let them be satisfied,
Because I'm a survivor;
They say I'm alone,
They think I am prone,
To fall into the shadows called depression;
Oh I'm a survivor;
They say I'm a poor child,
They say I'll run away wild;
But I won't do anything as such,
Because I'm a survivor;
They say I'm sugary sweet,
They say I'm a sheep that'll bleat;
Oh they are sadly mistaken,
Because I'm a survivor;
To you, I may look like harmless,
To you, I may look characterless,
But I'm a fighter through and through;
Life's hit me with a lot of punches,
But you must remember, my darling,
I'm a survivor;
I don't know,
Whether I'm high or am I low,
What matters the most is,
I'm a survivor;
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
I know from my past, gym class
From locker rooms, I learned fast
That lots of guys have winners
But my sausage is from Vienna.
I got a little bump, a tiny little lump,
Like a hamster has taken a dump.
Nothing bulges my shorts at the crotch.
Not much there for anyone to watch.
But our society puts the emphasis
On just how big your business is.
If you have a tiny peter, my friend
Many kinds of applause will end.
Go read the writing on the walls,
Because you will inherit the catcalls
And no matter how much you moan
They come through no fault of your own.
Regarded as less than a man; sick
Or perverted to have a small ****
As too often I have been told
Since as a kid and not very old
Amid laughter and cruel jests
I have learned a big **** is best.
No matter it’s something I can’t change,
Apparently a small ***** is strange.
In time I left behind those taunts
As I left behind adolescent haunts.
The pain has become only a taint;
The scars of bullies with no restraint,
But I am sure I never will fully be
Free of their thoughtless bigotry
As I reach the age of an old codger
Dealing with life with a not so jolly roger.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 10:11 PM UTC
As it turns out, I’m easier to love from afar. Every time I open my mouth, I just bleed.
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 9:37 PM UTC
This one is for the girls
For the girls who wake up at the crack of dawn
To stare down the standards of beauty built by a society
Who says that your bones are more beautiful than your curves
That your ****** has more value than your words
This one is for the girls who go through their day
Expected to only to smile
Only to say happy words
Even if their world inside is crashing around them.
This one is for the girls
Who endure the side glances,
Because they don't fit into the cookie cutter
that has been so strategically built
By the media
To break down the strong mind of girls and to leave in them in a heap on the side of the road
So that the only time they feel beautiful
Is when they hear catcalls of the passers byers
Leaving them starving
Starving their body
starving their mind
Little by little killing the spirit that was once so strong inside them
And yet all concerns seem to be silenced
This one is for the girls who
Cut open the cookie cutter that has been created
To cut the independent woman down to size
Who carve out a door way in this cookie cutter
As a light to shine at the end of the tunnel
This one is for the girls
Who never lose hope
For the girls who refuse to allow their ****** to hold their entire self worth
This is for the girls who
Refuse to allow the mass media to tell them that they are not beautiful
For the girls who have become the shining star
For the girls who are still discovering their own strength as their wound heal
This is for the girls searching for hope in a dark place
Hoping to find stars in the sky that are close enough they can touch
This one is for the girls
Keep on going
Don't lose yourself in this world
Hold your head up high
And show them the strength of a woman.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 12:39 AM UTC
She is the lady on the road.
She is a mother, a sister, a colleague, a bird, a lassie, a damsel.
She is the lady on the road.
She spreads love and enriches kindness in the society,
She is the crux of an organization, and the fundamental principles.
She is the lady on the road.
She twinkles with the stars and shimmers with the moon,
She scampers with her pets and hops like a frog,
She is not a nomad, but a faithful keeper.
She is the lady on the road.
She wears short skirts,
She wears tight tops,
She doesn't encourage the flirts,
She neither abominates the leering of cops.
She is the lady on the road.
She holds a honourable reputation,
She forms the base of ethical standards,
She buries the grudges and resolves the dissension,
She consolidates herself and maintains her fettle,
She is the epitome of cheerful disposition.
She is the lady on the road.
She ignores the catcalls,
She endures the torture and prevails her morale,
She is a monument unshakable, and a stone unbreakable,
She dumps her burdens and enlightens her destiny,
She protects her dignity and negotiates with denunciation,
She does no harm, but deals with it.
She is the lady on the road, ..the seventh wonder of the world.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
Women have so much to fear these days
We learn that when we're walking to our car in the dead of night
We should have our key jammed between our fingers in the fist of one hand
Poised as a weapon
And a jar of mace in the other
We learn to take catcalls as compliments
We learn that it is our fault if we get *****
Because when people hear about it, the words that should cross their lips--
"Is she okay?"
"Is the attacker doing time?"
--don't
Instead we hear "What was she wearing?"
Because if we dress a little less provocative
Maybe they will target someone else
Because we asked for this to happen
We are all learning the wrong way about everything
Instead of "ask consent" it's "don't get *****
Instead of "be respectful" it's "you should be flattered"
Instead of "don't attack someone" it's "protect yourself"
Does society not see how backwards this it?
Instead of preventing the crime altogether, it's "make sure it's someone else"
Because if it's not us, it's not happening
We say "ignorance is bliss"
But really ignorance is being stupid enough to think, over and over
It won't happen to me
It won't happen to me
It won't happen to me
Because it can
It can happen to anyone
At any time
And we need to try our ******* best to stop it
Because she didn't dress that way for you
And she most certainly didn't ask for it
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 6:44 PM UTC
When words are not enough,
and the world won’t get off her back,
she dances the Devils way,
She’s a princess,
wait she’s a queen,
wait she’s an angel,
wait she’s everything,
a Goddess,
the hottest performing artist I’ve ever seen,
and she’s dancing,
dancing is her therapy,
I mean,
I’m not James Brown,
but it’s a man’s world,
even if Rihanna runs this town,
See,
she’s been suppressed all her life,
and I’m not just talking about Rihanna,
I’m talking about every girl that was ever forced to be a wife,
just to survive in this life,
she was touched by her father,
or brother or cousin,
when she was just a little girl,
I know we all wish it wasn’t,
but it is true,
so what’s a girl to do,
when she’s a clean 13 messing with The ***** Dozen,
this isn’t battle of the sexes,
this is war of the worlds,
wants to be a woman but she’s just a girl,
no No Doubt just burnt out nerves taken turns,
she never asked to be born,
with the burden of being beautiful,
but she refuses to conform,
she is attractable irrational and radical,
so when it’s all too much,
the stares and the catcalls,
the aggressive forceful touch,
the nails across her back like a blackboard,
and the moans become just white noise,
she takes it all in,
she forgives the man because he’s just a boy,
he is an angel even if he has fallen,
she takes it all in,
and she uses all of those abuses,
as the fuel with the tools which induces,
an allusive state of truth which,
allows her to move with intuitive smoothness,
and lose herself in the music morphing into what a centrifuge is,
separating fluids transforming what was otherwise useless abuses,
into a truth that cruises and confuses the stupid stooges,
she dances,
in a statement of glorious refusal to submit to their ideals,
she is more than a princess queen angel goddess,
she is fire burning up all preconceived notions of *** appeal,
the real deal,
dancing sweating cleansing her soul and her pores,
moving faster in progression refuting repression,
overcoming an obsession of oppression and knocking down all doors,
she is not a possession,
though she is possessed when,
she’s a dancing expression of how we all feel and more,
no words are enough,
she shows what we all feel,
she reveals what,
was before thinly concealed,
she is the perfect expression,
of imperfect circumstances,
she is poetic stanzas,
she is the paint on the canvas,
there is no question that she is the answer,
and all of this is made clear when she takes it all in,
let’s go of everything and dances…
∆aron L∆ Lux ∆
#strength #metoo #dancer #ballet #blackswan
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
I-AM-NOT-A-DOG.
Today,
I cut loose from your leash of degrading comments.
My ears have learned to ignore your whistles
and the only thing I am going to fetch
is my dignity.
We all have cracks.
People’s words creep into our most foreign parts
And bother us like gnats in our food.
However,
At a young age my mom welded me by hand.
Sealed off every corner so
Your undignified vernacular wouldn’t disturb my peace.
Your mother must’ve had deleterious effects on you.
She told you that love can only be found through intertwining genitals.
I have iron fists and your forcefulness will not supersede my strength to protect what I own.
Let me tell you sir,
Obeying men is an archaic practice
And I wasn’t born yesterday.
I endure life with fortitude even with the threat of your loaded fist 2 inches from my face.
Your catcalls sting like the hearts of mother’s who have lost their daughter’s to the streets.
I hold my mace like a loaded gun walking in the petrifying night.
Apparently big butts lie, they give you the impression that you can squeeze, but back off the anatomy.
Remember that all women embody beauty and grace, not for you, but for themselves.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 11:33 PM UTC
Her greatest fear was
going color blind,
invoking domino effect,
she embraced rainbow colors-
whenever a chance she found.
Now, she walks at the front
as if she is the official bearer of colors
in our frenzied blueberry hunt,
up in the high ranges of Western Ghat's
tropical rain forests.
Our nostrils are special,
"colors we see, make us madly sing"
chants rend the air when-
fragrance of ***** blooms wafted in the air.
"Just like the smell when python opens mouth"
said a voice, to the uninitiated,
"Quit white, paint everything coal black,
or is it the other way round?"
"This place is magical can't make a choice"
"Look! I found a serious irregular lake down there"
"I didn't realize I was walking in rounds, around a closed mall"
"White light is a cheat, pixie laid us is in the village green"
"Y'll fall down"
"Green was what i asked for
got thick,red, gooey mud"
"Why panic?"
"Hey meet Mr.Yellow smile,
kiss him a pretty, magenta
***** thought, good night"
"I've a deep blue psyche,
in nightmares I see ***** whales"
"Wounded bleeding heart,
she was nursed back to health
it beats me,
she limped back to her old green monster"
"Hear that distant drums?
brick red monster of the woods
mating with a black cat"
"A ritual of the tribes?
is it meant as a crude joke?"
Sitting under a tree shade,
I hear for the first time in my life,
a white ant's dark wintry song,
lilting, it spoke about the life
as the queen ant's *** slave.
**"Hey love this ***** magical feat,
anything is possible,
how reality takes a beat"
**** it, three times over,
on the bank of the river, then in water.."**
"Blue grass, blue grass
sing all the way up to the mountain pass,
where ***** plants grow thick like ***** thoughts,
a nightingale in funky dress
singing ***** songs and regale all"
"That lush lass, her hair tied with a red bandana
is a smart *** **** her"
Someone screams in delight,
evening spreads a magical light,
more laughter, catcalls,
the sassy chick just LOL
Pass..pass
A big headstrong hornbill, surveying the scene,
gives a mating call
the hillside reverberates with its sound.
(C) K.Balachandran
[email protected]
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 7:19 AM UTC
The sweet smell
of patriarchy
in the morning
Don’t you hear
catcalls like birds
in the distance
Or you’d look better
if...
Maybe the sound
of a woman’s
nails clawing
her way out
of an abusive
relationship
somehow shunned
for being *****
or harassed
and finding courage
to speak out
His emotions
mean little
because masculinity
is strength
She can’t bench
and he can’t squat
a nice max
they’re weak
Engineer?
Don’t you think
there’s a better
career for a girl?
You can’t run
a mile
or for president
like I can
but in the same
breath I’ll tell you
the patriarchy is
nonexistent
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 8:32 AM UTC
i’m that girl
the girl who looks good
U
N
D
E
R
the dark
Under the guise of too many shots
That girl
who will make you come in her mouth But never come over
That girl
you can **** but can’t Call
That girl
the one who will **** you like your ****** is the center of her universe, the sum of her self worth, the essence of her being
but can’t hold hands with in
public I’m
that girl
But I’m also THAT girl.
The girl who believes in a revolution of thought in body that girl who will
NEVER
let you define her worth, her **** worth, or her vagina’s worth.
THAT girl who will spit flames or warrior women in your mouth at any suggestion
that women are the ‘weaker ***
THAT girl who will always answer
catcalls with
a
** ROAR**
THAT girl.
I’m a feminist with a chipped shoulder, a chip that has been worked at and worked at by boys
like
you
boys made of salt and misogyny
boys who “are apologies that should have been made to women long ago”
boys that have made me what I am.
& maybe that’s why you thought I wasn’t good enough—
because I am THAT girl.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 6:00 PM UTC
Sound asleep, dead to the world. Enjoying the best sleep in a long time. Then the alarm goes off and I roll over to turn it off. The blaring sound goes away and I relapse into a peaceful slumber. On my only day off, I find rest to be bliss, but alas life is not perfect and my wife has other plans. The battle is fought once a week, with new and creative ways found to jar me from my sleep, but on this particular day I am determined to not be bothered. So through 3 alarm clocks and innumerable catcalls I snooze on. Only rolling to one side or the other to avoid the harassment that seeks to steal my peaceful sleep. Then as if by design, I begin to have the most elaborate dream. Wrapped in a sheet, I am held fast as my feet slip and slide in the mud. For a moment I feel the ooze beneath my feet. Then at a moments notice, the ooze is replaced by warm water running over my toes. I begin to giggle as the water feels as if it is filled with sand. Then to my stark surprise, I open my eyes to find my feet slathered in peanut butter and my golden retriever licking my feet to relieve me of the ooze of which I had dreamed. Thus once again my wife wins the battle, and rattles me from my slumber with a furry alarm clock and a list of things for me to do today.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 9:25 PM UTC
Clicking their way forward and back,
Flip-flopping into or hearts
If a girl can con money
Out of their fathers’ pockets,
who’s to say
They can’t sway politicians?
Their lips kiss pictures.
Pictures of cannabis leaves, yellow and smiling
They live until they die,
don’t live until they’re married
And if they don’t find what they want,
what else do they need
besides a crowd of fellow millennials
Caring, caring?
Caring about cannabis’ rights
and the right to carry a GBF,
their money, their frame
and, above all, pepper spray
These girls are the new
honest, hard-working man,
Their sweet scent is coming.
Sweet pea and Moonlight Path.
the top-selling fragrances at
Bath and Body Works
Their battle-cry is only
as loud as their looks
Daisy dukes and Katy Perry
whispering, “What the hell is she wearing?
She dons thin, rose-gold underwear
and she’s lazy yet keyed-up
in her own skin
Her lovers are all the same
but she blames all men.
Her wings are Pink,
they protect her from catcalls.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 1:04 AM UTC
People are nothing more than a blur of genitalia,
gasps,
groans,
grunts,
g-spots
to savor, then scrap.
The Catch is a rehearsed routine,
catcalls turned to cat scratches
and long blonde hairs stuck to his lapel;
his wife will make
****
sure
he'll repent.
Lip bites and ***** licks,
the high leaves long breaths
escaping quenched lips.
**** falling for you,
I'd rather
**** you and leave
standing up straight
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
1
Stop biting your lip
Your blood is meant to stay
In your body
And carry oxygen
And kiss your bones
It has no place on your tongue
2
Breathe
1 2 3
Breathe
Don’t be afraid to let
Your lungs expand
Don’t be afraid to calm
Your nerves
Pop a Xanax and you’ll be fine
You’ll always be fine
3
When you feel the gut pulling
Desire to kiss a boy
Kiss him
Kiss him before he realizes
What a mess you are
Kiss him
And then break his legs
Remind him you are a tornado
Wrapped in skin
And your kiss
Just blew him away
4
Always fall in love
With strangers
Lose yourself in fantasies
Featuring the people on the bus
Or in the mall
Smile at them so they know
They’re infiltrating
Your dreams
5
When a guy catcalls you
Kick him in the teeth
Show him the hair on your legs
Shove your emergency ******
Down his throat
Say no
You are not a dog
You are not a prize
You are a goddess clad in
A leather jacket and
Motorcycle boots
And goddesses do not accept
Catcalls
6
Wrap yourself in poems
Hold them close to your heart
Hide them in your pockets
Let them spill out
Of your mouth
In times of stress
You never know when you’ll need them
7
Never wish for tragedy
Just so you can have a reason
To be sad
8
When the poetry stops working
Go to therapy
Follow the advice
You’ve given to so many
Other people
9
Swallow that lump in your throat
Let it dissolve
In your stomach acid
You will not cry
You will not break
10
When the boy with
The beautiful smile and the
Even more beautiful voice
Looks at you for the first time
The world will stop
You will only know his eyes
When they pass over you
To the prettier girl on your right
Do not take offense
Your time will come
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
Flailing light of coursing dread
Fills my mind with painful cries
Start the crippling hopeless feeling soon
Shove the depression to the front
You’re alone, it needles
Alone now
Alone tomorrow
Alone forever
Panic only fuels the spreading fears
Alone and worthless are the whispering thoughts
The catcalls of mockery rip shreds of the soul
Run harder before it runs you down
cc111911
Nov 23, 2011
Nov 23, 2011 at 12:01 AM UTC
You are fashion
Mrs. Juniper
Some days a fitted skirt
Others, a skinny jeans ensemble
The summertime catcalls and whistles
Over the length of your legs
And a slinky polka dot bikini
You pay no mind to
If fact, you don't even blink
Even when they lick the glass
It's a job to you
Plain and simple
And no matter how stiff it becomes
You're always willing
To lend a helping hand
Dec 20, 2019
Dec 20, 2019 at 9:16 PM UTC
Evening's soul rests on dark, light, shades
even as shadows fall on streets
even as the drunk starts ululating.
Evening has a soul, and in it impinges
past.
In Evenings I just want thoughts to saunter.
Nascent. And in evening the ghoul starts talking
and the owl serenading. Dogs and ******* give moaning
catcalls, to signify their presence, that they are living
like me and you.
Evenings do a turn around as darkness spreads
into my body. I weave unbecoming fantasies.
Taking a blank paper for my mind to write.
Evening stares at philosophy, monotony
and rush of vehicles stampede thoughts.
Evenings go berserk with street lights
and quiet bonhomie.
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 1:18 AM UTC
The night clung to me
Like a cold sweat
Pressing my dress
Against my skin
Until the dampness of my panic
Ran with my mascara
I nestled my keys between my fingers
Makeshift Freddy Krueger
Lashing out at shadows
As they slinked around my feet
Fear sliding slowly along my face
And wiped it away quickly
So I could forget
I was alone
In the middle of the city
At night
Leering glares and catcalls
Loitered doorways
Tugging at my sleeves
Twisting their claws in my hair
Offering up glasses overflowing
In broken promises
And blatant lies
As I tried to rush by
Looking for a vacant streetlights
To hover, fluttering near with paper wings
So I could forget
I was woman alone
In the middle of the city
At night
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 12:12 AM UTC
You are beautiful,
You are strong,
You are more than the blade you're holding against your wrist.
So drop it.
You are more than those bitches' whispers
and those ***** catcalls.
Don't ever doubt your worth
Because you are better than the picture you've painted in your head.
You are the best version of yourself
And now is the time of your life.
Get out there, set yourself free
Unshackle your feet from the chains that drag you down.
You are beautiful and you are not alone.
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 9:22 PM UTC
Her son was asleep
She was relaxed now
As she stepped out the shower
Her dripping body
Her brown skin
Naked, she looked as beautiful as a flower
Sweet as brown sugar
They called her
She thought that was so corny
She moisturized her long legs
Which made men oh so *****
When she thought about it
As she moved up her body
Her son stirred
Her hands were on her *******
She softly cursed
Her ******* were like soft ebony basketballs
She admired them
No wonder she got so many catcalls
And those buns
Those buns
Those sweet firm cinnamon buns
They speak for themselves
They’re the perfect balance
She looked in the bathroom mirror
And looked back at it
And touched it
In silence
Soon that silence was no more
Her son wasn’t asleep anymore
She had to cut short her body admiration
Due to her dedication
To her son
They called her Brown Sugar
She knows why
Now all her Brown Sugar is devoted...
For her son.
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 5:46 PM UTC
since the bee sting, my son is a staccato of worry. in his six year old frame there is not room enough for any belief that isn’t a bumblebee waiting six years for him and him alone. I have to enter that darkness. even with the catcalls of real suffering. even cradling
your daughter.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 4:11 PM UTC
I do not know that man, but he looks like an enemy of the people.
Not the strangest of strange assertions
I had ever heard uttered in these sessions,
And normally I may not have even looked up
To identify the speaker,
But as the voice belonged to a woman,
I chanced to raise eyes upward
Just in time to see an arm fully extended,
An accusing finger pointed at myself.
Understand, I had seen more than one of my peers
Dragged from these chambers
Without regard for decorum or ceremony,
And, in a state which was at least close kin to panic,
I saw visions of myself whisked away to a fetid Butyrka cell
Or thrown, bound and gagged, onto some Siberia-bound cattle car
When I heard a voice something like my own spit out
*I do not know that woman, but she looks like a ********** to me.*
My accuser blanched and sat down
To a chorus of catcalls and derisive whistling,
And one or two deputies in possession
Of sufficient power or powerful friends
Actually waved handfuls of rubles in her direction.
It may not have been grace under pressure,
But there are situations where chivalry
Is more indulgent than admirable.
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 10:58 AM UTC
i'm one quiver away from an opening act -
one clutch of the sheets from a bottle of red wine.
i'm three scratches away from new york city,
and a whisper or two from the top of the world.
i can't feel your hands moving rough against my skin,
but i can feel the chords snaking their way through my veins.
i can't see your ceiling fan working its lazy way in circles
or the crack in your wall from too many nights of rain,
but i can see the silhouettes of a full house through a film of smoke
settled just below the track lights.
i can't hear your breath catch or my name fall from your lips,
but i can hear whistles and catcalls and the ring of a telephone.
tell them i'm on my way. tell them i'll catch a plane.
tell them they made the right choice this time.
choke me, fill me, scar me, **** me.
i'll bleed, but the headlines will be worth it.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC