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"daughter" poems
How do you explain to your children that the horrors of the world are real? How will I tell my son, We found a place you can call home but your bus might not make it to school. Do not look too Jewish in this part of town Do not play in the train station Do not get used to the weight of a machine gun. Or look my daughter in the eye and say, someday you might say “no” and someone stronger than you might not listen You will not tell me Know that this happens a lot Know that your wrists pinned against a backboard will echo in the way you move your hands for as long as you let it But human hands aren’t as heavy as metal shackles And I’m so sorry but I won’t be able to take the weight for you You’ll wake up in the morning That I can promise you You’ll wake up and your lungs will fill with air whether you tell them to or not. One day I will hold someone small, with my face and they’ll cry and I’ll say, *I know. I know you’re tied with little yarn strings to the last life I know it hurts to be here and (honestly) you’re never going back But the older you get the less you’ll remember what it was like before you had a body when you were made of ash and infinite light You’ll convince yourself you live here and that your hands are you, But remember that once you were boundless Inside my body, without yours.*
0
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 2:34 PM UTC
children
Grandpa sits in his favorite chair, Spots his granddaughter and starts to stare, Whips out his **** and starts to stroke, He knows it’s his granddaughter he wants to poke, Calls her over and says, “Pretty please.” Come on granddaughter get on your knees, She does as she’s told and ***** him with zest, Because she knows ****** is best. Uncle Roy decides to give it a whirl, He likes to dress his nephew up as a girl, Likes to see him in silk and lace, Lipstick and makeup on his face, Imagining him with heels on his feet, As he sits there and starts to stroke his meat, He’d love to put him to the test, Because he knows ****** is best. Mother decides to get in on the act, Her and her son have a special pact, While her husbands at work she gets in his bed, Pulls down his pants and starts giving him head, Son likes his mom dressed up in her lace, As he shoots his load all over her face, He knows his mom is better than the rest, Because he knows ****** is best. Sister and brother are a special pair, It’s more than a last name these two share, Brother Bill can’t believe his luck, Having a sister that likes to **** Says, “Hey Sis, come on over here.” As he bends her over and takes her rear, Going at it like animals it becomes a real fuckfest, Because they both know ****** is best. Father can’t believe his daughter is so kind, She’s on her knees as he takes her behind, She moans and screams and starts to cry, Says, “Hey Daddy, you’re my kind of guy.” Daddy tells her ****** is the better way, It’s a game the whole family can play, Daddy treats his daughter like an honored guest, Because they both know ****** is best. 11-27-09b.
0
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 1:20 AM UTC
****** Is Best
Grandpa sits in his favorite chair, Spots his granddaughter and starts to stare, Whips out his **** and starts to stroke, He knows it’s his granddaughter he wants to poke, Calls her over and says, “Pretty please.” Come on granddaughter get on your knees, She does as she’s told and ***** him with zest, Because she knows ****** is best. Uncle Roy decides to give it a whirl, He likes to dress his nephew up as a girl, Likes to see him in silk and lace, Lipstick and makeup on his face, Imagining him with heels on his feet, As he sits there and starts to stroke his meat, He’d love to put him to the test, Because he knows ****** is best. Mother decides to get in on the act, Her and her son have a special pact, While her husbands at work she gets in his bed, Pulls down his pants and starts giving him head, Son likes his mom dressed up in her lace, As he shoots his load all over her face, He knows his mom is better than the rest, Because he knows ****** is best. Sister and brother are a special pair, It’s more than a last name these two share, Brother Bill can’t believe his luck, Having a sister that likes to **** Says, “Hey Sis, come on over here.” As he bends her over and takes her rear, Going at it like animals it becomes a real fuckfest, Because they both know ****** is best. Father can’t believe his daughter is so kind, She’s on her knees as he takes her behind, She moans and screams and starts to cry, Says, “Hey Daddy, you’re my kind of guy.” Daddy tells her ****** is the better way, It’s a game the whole family can play, Daddy treats his daughter like an honored guest, Because they both know ****** is best. 11-27-09b.
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41
You call me She, Her, Daughter, Girl Shhhhh... You speak with a blind mouth, Look at me, see me She isn't me, Only a fantasy that you clutch till your knuckles grow pale. I am not broken, I am free But you hide behind a veil Afraid to finally let go of... Long hair, Lipstick, Lace dress You question each time I show you my truth, "Are you trying to hide your femininity?" No, my femininity is simply not my definition. Spend a day in my skin, in my cage, And don't cry when the words start to pierce you like daggers, Shhhh... Stay silent, don't worry, it's just a phase. Now do you see that "She" just doesn't make sense? You speak to me but your voice seems distant, Bouncing off of me and echoing Like I am the hollow statue of the girl you used to see. "I am right in front of you, you know" But my words are only heard when they come from her lips. Do you see me now? Mother, Children, Wife, Woman A silent prayer each night for all the things I am not, Stomach swollen, hair to my waist The glow of an expecting mother on my face. Curves, not edges, Pink, not blue. Delicate hands grasping the man who stands in my place. Do you see me now? Pants swollen, hair to my brow, Along my jaw, Down my legs, Sprouting from my toes. Do you see me now? Bulged, Buzzed, Boy Blood on my sheets, not between my legs Stained by the girl who lies in her place Fresh coat of gel and cologne, Swirls of shaving cream. Bare chest, Burning skin Twitch of an Adam's apple when breath comes short, Nervous fidgets with a tie, tick tock, "Pick me up at eight" "Treat her right" "I will sir" "Will you be my..." "You're going to be a father!" "You are the best daughter we could have asked for" ...."Son" I whispered. But you didn't hear, Please tell me Do you see me now?
0
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 3:01 AM UTC
His Silent Cry
You call me She, Her, Daughter, Girl Shhhhh... You speak with a blind mouth, Look at me, see me She isn't me, Only a fantasy that you clutch till your knuckles grow pale. I am not broken, I am free But you hide behind a veil Afraid to finally let go of... Long hair, Lipstick, Lace dress You question each time I show you my truth, "Are you trying to hide your femininity?" No, my femininity is simply not my definition. Spend a day in my skin, in my cage, And don't cry when the words start to pierce you like daggers, Shhhh... Stay silent, don't worry, it's just a phase. Now do you see that "She" just doesn't make sense? You speak to me but your voice seems distant, Bouncing off of me and echoing Like I am the hollow statue of the girl you used to see. "I am right in front of you, you know" But my words are only heard when they come from her lips. Do you see me now? Mother, Children, Wife, Woman A silent prayer each night for all the things I am not, Stomach swollen, hair to my waist The glow of an expecting mother on my face. Curves, not edges, Pink, not blue. Delicate hands grasping the man who stands in my place. Do you see me now? Pants swollen, hair to my brow, Along my jaw, Down my legs, Sprouting from my toes. Do you see me now? Bulged, Buzzed, Boy Blood on my sheets, not between my legs Stained by the girl who lies in her place Fresh coat of gel and cologne, Swirls of shaving cream. Bare chest, Burning skin Twitch of an Adam's apple when breath comes short, Nervous fidgets with a tie, tick tock, "Pick me up at eight" "Treat her right" "I will sir" "Will you be my..." "You're going to be a father!" "You are the best daughter we could have asked for" ...."Son" I whispered. But you didn't hear, Please tell me Do you see me now?
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55
Basketball stands for war or battle. That's why I think about the players' personalities, in my foxhole or squad. Danny and Ben are fast and smart. Dan especially can pass making him master and commander. To defeat them as we did is pst satisfying. Ben's five year old son disdains to answer my question Why are you you? But I'm not here to catalogue the men's personalities. I like them. But each of us has moved on many times, when ___________ suddenly died the games went on with hardly a mention and his name has since been forgotten. But even this, absolute mortality of not just our bodies but our names and souls is not what I came to talk about. Yesterday, between games, I asked Joe how Molly his daughter likes the high school. He mounted an impassioned defense of reading as the indispensable skill when I suggested math, the scientific method and history are essential too. Also between games Bob diffidently asked why my kids are bald. I was moved by the care he took to satisfy his curiosity, concerned the subject might be difficult. He's a political science teacher so I took the opportunity to ask What ails the republic? Of course I answered myself wanting mostly to hear myself talk about Iraq and how empire is self-correcting. For once I was amusing I thought, treating the subject with a light touch heretofore lacking. But none of this is what I came to say. A new guy, long quick and strong, a bulldozer under the boards with a good outside shot if needed got into a dispute with the other Bob who likes to tell people what to do sometimes, about an offensive foul Bob called which we almost never do. The new guy said If you can't take it don't play under the boards which is what I say when I'm ****** and don't give a **** Bob said You've been pushing and shoving me all day. I said He doesn't want to be pushed and shoved which got a wry smile out of Danny as I put the ball in play.
0
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 8:59 AM UTC
At Basketball
Basketball stands for war or battle. That's why I think about the players' personalities, in my foxhole or squad. Danny and Ben are fast and smart. Dan especially can pass making him master and commander. To defeat them as we did is pst satisfying. Ben's five year old son disdains to answer my question Why are you you? But I'm not here to catalogue the men's personalities. I like them. But each of us has moved on many times, when ___________ suddenly died the games went on with hardly a mention and his name has since been forgotten. But even this, absolute mortality of not just our bodies but our names and souls is not what I came to talk about. Yesterday, between games, I asked Joe how Molly his daughter likes the high school. He mounted an impassioned defense of reading as the indispensable skill when I suggested math, the scientific method and history are essential too. Also between games Bob diffidently asked why my kids are bald. I was moved by the care he took to satisfy his curiosity, concerned the subject might be difficult. He's a political science teacher so I took the opportunity to ask What ails the republic? Of course I answered myself wanting mostly to hear myself talk about Iraq and how empire is self-correcting. For once I was amusing I thought, treating the subject with a light touch heretofore lacking. But none of this is what I came to say. A new guy, long quick and strong, a bulldozer under the boards with a good outside shot if needed got into a dispute with the other Bob who likes to tell people what to do sometimes, about an offensive foul Bob called which we almost never do. The new guy said If you can't take it don't play under the boards which is what I say when I'm ****** and don't give a **** Bob said You've been pushing and shoving me all day. I said He doesn't want to be pushed and shoved which got a wry smile out of Danny as I put the ball in play.
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49
You will never know The peace of acceptance Once you are finished Put to earth Life was harsher than the dirt Parents made you feel worthless Cause you wanted to wear a short dress Because you felt different Cut off Disowned Disavowed One friend after another disappears And no one hears The sobs No one feels the salty tears No one holds your hands Or offers you a hug You were ****** By the those who demand You conform Where there was no  warmth The clock cuts you bitterly Condemning you to be lonely And I cry all the more Knowing you won’t be the only one Not the only daughter wanting to be a son Not the only male that wants to be female Not the only soft face harden Or hard face softened till the sorrow overflows Till everyone you know closes the door And you disappear forever more
0
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 7:05 AM UTC
To The Transgender Suicides
African woman Mother of civilization. Oh beautiful woman, Thou are beyond description. African woman Queen of the people of Mamba. Jambo to all those in heaven Bless you too my dear mama. African woman Royal Nubian Queen. The backbone of her man You'll do anything to help him win. Single Black woman Made of broken pieces You're the breadwinner,Superwoman. You're the symbol of strength in all places. African woman Daughter of Eve's. Thou are God's true specimen, And the apple of his eyes. Black woman Daughter of Africa. Blueprint of a **** woman, Dark hue of coffee arabica. African woman Mother of humanity Chieftess of ancient Nyngoman, Mama Africa's bounty. African woman My Mandingo bride. First woman of Africa's Eden Center of God's black tribe. Nigerian woman My Yoruba Queen. Envied by the women of Oman, Cafe ou lair, cream of Africa's cream! Warrior woman, Queen of Wakanda. Come and flip your wand, Find the soul of Sarafina. Curvy woman In your womb lies Africa's future. My Lormah woman Oyobuays marvels at your structure. Beautiful woman, Perpetual envy of the silicon woman. Pride of the Black man, The essence of a real woman. Indigo Woman Lillies of the African plains. Thou are Eve of the African Eden, Best of the portraits that nature paints. Voluptous woman, Full, thick natural lips. Real assert of the Black woman, Nature gets aroused by your hips. Ellen Sirleaf, today's woman, Africa's first female president. A Liberian woman, Loved and revered wherever she went. Smile ,Gambian woman, You're daughter of Sarakunda. Roots of the Black American woman, Captives of the kanda Bolinga. South African woman Mariam Makeba Sang for freedom and fought like a man You were truly Soweto's finest Deva. Dark ebony woman, You are red, yellow and green. Hanmatan wind stops at your command, Born to slay and be seen. African woman Thou are the only reason God put Adam in a coma. Your perpetual beauty transcends time and Season. African woman, Under your cleavage, the Nile flows And between your fingers, golden threads are woven, You are the reason Beyonce glows. Harriet Tubman, brave woman Smuggled slaves underground. She was a freed Black slave woman, Who avowed to leave no soul behind. Creative woman Maya Angelou, gifted poetess. Famous writer and a Black woman Will be remembered for her poetic prowess. Native African woman, Africa's limestone and cement. A mother, a wife, virtuous woman, Lioness and the spine of the continent. Liberian woman Roots of my poetry, you gave me life You are every woman. Your edges are sharper than the Sumarais knife. #IvanBrookspoetry© 13/8/2018
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Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
African Woman
African woman Mother of civilization. Oh beautiful woman, Thou are beyond description. African woman Queen of the people of Mamba. Jambo to all those in heaven Bless you too my dear mama. African woman Royal Nubian Queen. The backbone of her man You'll do anything to help him win. Single Black woman Made of broken pieces You're the breadwinner,Superwoman. You're the symbol of strength in all places. African woman Daughter of Eve's. Thou are God's true specimen, And the apple of his eyes. Black woman Daughter of Africa. Blueprint of a **** woman, Dark hue of coffee arabica. African woman Mother of humanity Chieftess of ancient Nyngoman, Mama Africa's bounty. African woman My Mandingo bride. First woman of Africa's Eden Center of God's black tribe. Nigerian woman My Yoruba Queen. Envied by the women of Oman, Cafe ou lair, cream of Africa's cream! Warrior woman, Queen of Wakanda. Come and flip your wand, Find the soul of Sarafina. Curvy woman In your womb lies Africa's future. My Lormah woman Oyobuays marvels at your structure. Beautiful woman, Perpetual envy of the silicon woman. Pride of the Black man, The essence of a real woman. Indigo Woman Lillies of the African plains. Thou are Eve of the African Eden, Best of the portraits that nature paints. Voluptous woman, Full, thick natural lips. Real assert of the Black woman, Nature gets aroused by your hips. Ellen Sirleaf, today's woman, Africa's first female president. A Liberian woman, Loved and revered wherever she went. Smile ,Gambian woman, You're daughter of Sarakunda. Roots of the Black American woman, Captives of the kanda Bolinga. South African woman Mariam Makeba Sang for freedom and fought like a man You were truly Soweto's finest Deva. Dark ebony woman, You are red, yellow and green. Hanmatan wind stops at your command, Born to slay and be seen. African woman Thou are the only reason God put Adam in a coma. Your perpetual beauty transcends time and Season. African woman, Under your cleavage, the Nile flows And between your fingers, golden threads are woven, You are the reason Beyonce glows. Harriet Tubman, brave woman Smuggled slaves underground. She was a freed Black slave woman, Who avowed to leave no soul behind. Creative woman Maya Angelou, gifted poetess. Famous writer and a Black woman Will be remembered for her poetic prowess. Native African woman, Africa's limestone and cement. A mother, a wife, virtuous woman, Lioness and the spine of the continent. Liberian woman Roots of my poetry, you gave me life You are every woman. Your edges are sharper than the Sumarais knife. #IvanBrookspoetry© 13/8/2018
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98
I think sometimes, about what it means to be transgender. I probe and probe for answers, because as the possibility for a new age of enlightenment and safety increases, the others want to know. I’ve come up with many answers, but I can hold to none. I don’t deserve to paint the definition of a culture with the limited experiences I’ve had. I don’t see myself in the transgender identified people allowed on television. I don’t see myself in the transgender identified people making news feeds and giving high profile interviews. And as my nation’s exposure to our culture increases, likely will their curiosity. Am I transgender? Do I have the right? I’ve heard doctors, psychiatrists, may refuse transgender patients access to hormone therapy based on how dedicated or convincing their portrayal of their identified gender. If you want to be a man or woman, you’ll have to look like the women and men on TV. If you want to be transgender, you’ll have to look like the trans identified people on TV. Every single one of us who has an active role as either participant or observer in our society is prey to the crisis of validity. Am I pretty enough? Am I strong enough? Am I brave enough? Mom enough? Dad enough? Competitive enough? Successful enough? Rich enough? **** enough? Pious enough? It never ends. We’re, as a nation of people, being crushed and compartmentalized by this ever present lens, looming over us, exploiting our weaknesses and fears so it may grow wider, and support itself as it follows us, seemingly forever into the future. And one of the worst fears this camera of existential torment exploits, in most of us every day, is, “Do I have a reflection?” “What does it look like?” “Do I look like me?” What does it mean to be transgender? I can’t get away from that question. But I don’t have an answer. There are varying degrees of anguish, depression, panic, anxiety, and other wonderful emotional states that creep up on you and breathe down your neck nearly every waking day. Absolute contempt for the lie of a life you’ve lived till now, and contempt for the fragments still stuck to you, in memories, attached to your body and mind. Fear of those in your own community who would purposefully humiliate, invalidate, or attack you, choosing their own universal moral code over the innate urge and capacity to support the health and continued well being of another human. A ******* neighbor. A ******* pupil. A ******* employee. A ******* sister, brother, son, daughter, mother, father, cousin, ******* blood. What is being transgender like? By my experiences, it’s just like being anyone else in the country. But with a lot more fear, death, exclusion and medication.
0
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 5:07 AM UTC
What is Transgender?
I think sometimes, about what it means to be transgender. I probe and probe for answers, because as the possibility for a new age of enlightenment and safety increases, the others want to know. I’ve come up with many answers, but I can hold to none. I don’t deserve to paint the definition of a culture with the limited experiences I’ve had. I don’t see myself in the transgender identified people allowed on television. I don’t see myself in the transgender identified people making news feeds and giving high profile interviews. And as my nation’s exposure to our culture increases, likely will their curiosity. Am I transgender? Do I have the right? I’ve heard doctors, psychiatrists, may refuse transgender patients access to hormone therapy based on how dedicated or convincing their portrayal of their identified gender. If you want to be a man or woman, you’ll have to look like the women and men on TV. If you want to be transgender, you’ll have to look like the trans identified people on TV. Every single one of us who has an active role as either participant or observer in our society is prey to the crisis of validity. Am I pretty enough? Am I strong enough? Am I brave enough? Mom enough? Dad enough? Competitive enough? Successful enough? Rich enough? **** enough? Pious enough? It never ends. We’re, as a nation of people, being crushed and compartmentalized by this ever present lens, looming over us, exploiting our weaknesses and fears so it may grow wider, and support itself as it follows us, seemingly forever into the future. And one of the worst fears this camera of existential torment exploits, in most of us every day, is, “Do I have a reflection?” “What does it look like?” “Do I look like me?” What does it mean to be transgender? I can’t get away from that question. But I don’t have an answer. There are varying degrees of anguish, depression, panic, anxiety, and other wonderful emotional states that creep up on you and breathe down your neck nearly every waking day. Absolute contempt for the lie of a life you’ve lived till now, and contempt for the fragments still stuck to you, in memories, attached to your body and mind. Fear of those in your own community who would purposefully humiliate, invalidate, or attack you, choosing their own universal moral code over the innate urge and capacity to support the health and continued well being of another human. A ******* neighbor. A ******* pupil. A ******* employee. A ******* sister, brother, son, daughter, mother, father, cousin, ******* blood. What is being transgender like? By my experiences, it’s just like being anyone else in the country. But with a lot more fear, death, exclusion and medication.
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1
"Please, daddy!" You were walking so fast. Too fast for my little feet to keep up. Was it that easy for you to leave me? You heard my tear-filled screams, but you never stopped. You just kept going. Farther and farther away, not even trying to get one last look at me. I punched, pulled, and pushed trying to make you stop. You didn’t. You just kept going. Leaving me behind. "Please don’t leave me!" Pain. I remember it too well. The heart throbbing pain. We watched as you left. Me and mommy. My eyes were wet. Hers were dry, cold. As if she knew this would happen. I looked into mommy's eyes. Her brown eyes tangled with lies. Lying to me for you. How long do I have to wait for you before you realize that what you did was a mistake? What was the reason you stayed away for so long? Was it all the stupid crap you did in the past or is it because you don’t want me anymore? Since you left, I dreamed of your return. The day you would wrap me in your arms and whisper in my ear, "*I'm sorry for what I did. I promise I will never leave you again, my little Cookie Monster*." Then I wake up, hoping to see you. Praying that it wasn’t all a dream. But reality soon caught up, and the dream quickly died. I remember all the tears I had rushing down my face as I saw you leave me and mommy behind, to never return. I'm so incomplete without you, I need my daddy back in my life. You deceived me, you said you would always be there. You pinky promised. You broke your promise. How can I trust you again? Do you still think of me as your "cookie monster" or a daughter you never loved, a daughter you could leave behind without a single goodbye in the blink of an eye? I wish you were here to watch me grow up but we both know that will never happen. "*I miss you so much! Won’t you please come back to me, daddy? I just need to see your face one last time*." Am I that disappointing I need to work to make you love me? “Hey, daddy even if you don’t love me I will always love you no matter what happens.” I bet you didn't even think about how I would feel when you left. No, you only thought of yourself like you always do. You missed all my birthdays, first dates, father-daughter dances, and you may even miss my wedding, not that you even care. Did you know that I would wait for the postman to bring the mail and check to see if there was a letter for me? But there never was. I eventually stopped going, knowing nothing was there for me.   "*Well, daddy looks like you really didn't care about me buts it's in the past. Now I have a family who loves me, stays with me, and likes for who I am. I don't need you anymore*.” Daddy, I still need you. Please, come back.
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Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 10:53 AM UTC
In The Blink Of An Eye
"Please, daddy!" You were walking so fast. Too fast for my little feet to keep up. Was it that easy for you to leave me? You heard my tear-filled screams, but you never stopped. You just kept going. Farther and farther away, not even trying to get one last look at me. I punched, pulled, and pushed trying to make you stop. You didn’t. You just kept going. Leaving me behind. "Please don’t leave me!" Pain. I remember it too well. The heart throbbing pain. We watched as you left. Me and mommy. My eyes were wet. Hers were dry, cold. As if she knew this would happen. I looked into mommy's eyes. Her brown eyes tangled with lies. Lying to me for you. How long do I have to wait for you before you realize that what you did was a mistake? What was the reason you stayed away for so long? Was it all the stupid crap you did in the past or is it because you don’t want me anymore? Since you left, I dreamed of your return. The day you would wrap me in your arms and whisper in my ear, "*I'm sorry for what I did. I promise I will never leave you again, my little Cookie Monster*." Then I wake up, hoping to see you. Praying that it wasn’t all a dream. But reality soon caught up, and the dream quickly died. I remember all the tears I had rushing down my face as I saw you leave me and mommy behind, to never return. I'm so incomplete without you, I need my daddy back in my life. You deceived me, you said you would always be there. You pinky promised. You broke your promise. How can I trust you again? Do you still think of me as your "cookie monster" or a daughter you never loved, a daughter you could leave behind without a single goodbye in the blink of an eye? I wish you were here to watch me grow up but we both know that will never happen. "*I miss you so much! Won’t you please come back to me, daddy? I just need to see your face one last time*." Am I that disappointing I need to work to make you love me? “Hey, daddy even if you don’t love me I will always love you no matter what happens.” I bet you didn't even think about how I would feel when you left. No, you only thought of yourself like you always do. You missed all my birthdays, first dates, father-daughter dances, and you may even miss my wedding, not that you even care. Did you know that I would wait for the postman to bring the mail and check to see if there was a letter for me? But there never was. I eventually stopped going, knowing nothing was there for me.   "*Well, daddy looks like you really didn't care about me buts it's in the past. Now I have a family who loves me, stays with me, and likes for who I am. I don't need you anymore*.” Daddy, I still need you. Please, come back.
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54
Where do I start How should i begin, I guess i will just write until the very end, I could start with my name and where i am from, Yes, I will start with that and then more will come, My name is Dylan and I was born in North Carolina, I am nineteen years old but I feel even older, I look much younger or so I am told My days are long and filled with joy I have a daughter No, not a boy I work, go to school, and am a father I own my own business As God as my witness I have a beautiful companion who is full of life She is my joy No, not a boy My two girls are my life one is my daughter The other my future wife My Passion is Business My title is Entrepreneur I love what i do Which is more than most If you love your work Than you too can boast My business is a brand Perception Apparel is the name I create unique Clothes And nothing is quite the same Check me out, The website is the name! Among my hobbies sports are fairly high Basketball is my favorite Still not sure why Other interests  may include: Food, movies, and long walks on the beach This is begining to sound like a date I can't think of anything else to say My life in 300 words It is sort of sad in a way My life in one paragraph Yet i have nothing left to say? Well It seems I have begun to rant I hope now you may know me There is not much to see For this is all there is to me In essence of time let's bring this to a close And if you are lost, this was my Prose.
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Oct 22, 2011
Oct 22, 2011 at 9:36 AM UTC
My Life In 300 Words
Polite Typical Smiley Daughter Pointlessly Trusting School District Professor Turns-blind-eye Struggling Drastically Packets Turn-to Stacks Deficient Panic Attacks Turn-to Self Destruction Pulling Teeth Sick Design Plans To Stop Discussing Peace To-her Silence Disturbs People Talked She Distracted Passed The Snacks-to Dinners Pulled The Same Dimensions Pre-K Then Smaller Didn't Pause Third-Grade So Dead Parents Though She Drowned Piled Thoughts Suffocated-her Dexterity Patient There Suffering Depression Problems To-many-to Score Dispute Progress That Shockingly Developed Potentially Taken-away-the Suffering Dramatically Poor Tiny Sweet Doll Part Traumatized Sleep Deprived Phobic though Sixth grade Doesn't Play Though Six-Years-of Death Until... The little girl, learned she had, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and, school treating her badly is only one of her three traumatizing events.
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Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
PTSD
You are the daughter of the sea, oregano's first cousin. Swimmer, your body is pure as the water; cook, your blood is quick as the soil. Everything you do is full of flowers, rich with the earth. Your eyes go out toward the water, and the waves rise; your hands go out to the earth and the seeds swell; you know the deep essence of water and the earth, conjoined in you like a formula for clay. Naiad: cut your body into turquoise pieces, they will bloom resurrected in the kitchen. This is how you become everything that lives. And so at last, you sleep, in the circle of my arms that push back the shadows so that you can rest-- vegetables, seaweed, herbs: the foam of your dreams.
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27.2k
XXXIV (You are the daughter of the sea)
Could it be that I substitute lustful infatuation for love? or mistake an act of kindness for trust? Using his words to define me, i mean refine me, leaving the real me in the dust Can you really blame me for being attracted to someone who shows interest in my existence Someone who is persistent, consistent and whose smile breaks my resistance It's a real feeling I get of satisfaction through common conversation of nothingness The willingness to waste time with me means something to me if not everything for me because time can not be given back Sorry your interest in my existence was nonexistent, guess in the 90's being a father was wack. Respect from hoes was worth more than respect from your daughter If it was up to you, if you were her, you would have probably said "abort her" You knew I was a girl and that I'd be your first daughter but that wasn't enough for you You had 9 months which turned into 1 plus twenty now you're begging for my heart to attend to it's broken it needs amends too, a man too? So I'm looking at guy after guy to cut into some deep hurting pain from my past Not realizing that they can't give me what I'm missing cause I can't miss what I never had I asked God for a brother but I never got em When I was 8 I wanted to meet my Father but I never saw em After that, just like everything you cant change in life, you learn to accept Accept and move on not accept and dwell in it Yet I found myself looking for what I lacked in a male figure in a young boy I didn't know it yet but my innocence he would destroy How can you be sure about love and if you're in it, if there is no demonstration clearly displayed to see How can i be sure that he loves me for me, not what i give or what i can be but everything that I am if I haven't truly accepted me for me I long to feel love from a man who created me with his ***** Not physical love from a boy with a toy in it ***** I'm talking something long term Deeply invested in things that cannot be returned or given back Like time, memories, laughs, tears, words, or the lack...thereof
0
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
Fatherless Child
Could it be that I substitute lustful infatuation for love? or mistake an act of kindness for trust? Using his words to define me, i mean refine me, leaving the real me in the dust Can you really blame me for being attracted to someone who shows interest in my existence Someone who is persistent, consistent and whose smile breaks my resistance It's a real feeling I get of satisfaction through common conversation of nothingness The willingness to waste time with me means something to me if not everything for me because time can not be given back Sorry your interest in my existence was nonexistent, guess in the 90's being a father was wack. Respect from hoes was worth more than respect from your daughter If it was up to you, if you were her, you would have probably said "abort her" You knew I was a girl and that I'd be your first daughter but that wasn't enough for you You had 9 months which turned into 1 plus twenty now you're begging for my heart to attend to it's broken it needs amends too, a man too? So I'm looking at guy after guy to cut into some deep hurting pain from my past Not realizing that they can't give me what I'm missing cause I can't miss what I never had I asked God for a brother but I never got em When I was 8 I wanted to meet my Father but I never saw em After that, just like everything you cant change in life, you learn to accept Accept and move on not accept and dwell in it Yet I found myself looking for what I lacked in a male figure in a young boy I didn't know it yet but my innocence he would destroy How can you be sure about love and if you're in it, if there is no demonstration clearly displayed to see How can i be sure that he loves me for me, not what i give or what i can be but everything that I am if I haven't truly accepted me for me I long to feel love from a man who created me with his ***** Not physical love from a boy with a toy in it ***** I'm talking something long term Deeply invested in things that cannot be returned or given back Like time, memories, laughs, tears, words, or the lack...thereof
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25
I was thinking of a son. The womb is not a clock nor a bell tolling, but in the eleventh month of its life I feel the November of the body as well as of the calendar. In two days it will be my birthday and as always the earth is done with its harvest. This time I hunt for death, the night I lean toward, the night I want. Well then-- It was in the womb all along. I was thinking of a son ... You! The never acquired, the never seeded or unfastened, you of the genitals I feared, the stalk and the puppy's breath. Will I give you my eyes or his? Will you be the David or the Susan? (Those two names I picked and listened for.) Can you be the man your fathers are-- the leg muscles from Michelangelo, hands from Yugoslavia somewhere the peasant, Slavic and determined, somewhere the survivor bulging with life-- and could it still be possible, all this with Susan's eyes? All this without you-- two days gone in blood. I myself will die without baptism, a third daughter they didn't bother. My death will come on my name day. What's wrong with the name day? It's only an angel of the sun. Woman, weaving a web over your own, a thin and tangled poison. Scorpio, bad spider-- die! My death from the wrists, two name tags, blood worn like a corsage to bloom one on the left and one on the right-- It's a warm room, the place of the blood. Leave the door open on its hinges! Two days for your death and two days until mine. Love! That red disease-- year after year, David, you would make me wild! David! Susan! David! David! full and disheveled, hissing into the night, never growing old, waiting always for you on the porch ... year after year, my carrot, my cabbage, I would have possessed you before all women, calling your name, calling you mine.
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27.1k
************ at Forty
I was thinking of a son. The womb is not a clock nor a bell tolling, but in the eleventh month of its life I feel the November of the body as well as of the calendar. In two days it will be my birthday and as always the earth is done with its harvest. This time I hunt for death, the night I lean toward, the night I want. Well then-- It was in the womb all along. I was thinking of a son ... You! The never acquired, the never seeded or unfastened, you of the genitals I feared, the stalk and the puppy's breath. Will I give you my eyes or his? Will you be the David or the Susan? (Those two names I picked and listened for.) Can you be the man your fathers are-- the leg muscles from Michelangelo, hands from Yugoslavia somewhere the peasant, Slavic and determined, somewhere the survivor bulging with life-- and could it still be possible, all this with Susan's eyes? All this without you-- two days gone in blood. I myself will die without baptism, a third daughter they didn't bother. My death will come on my name day. What's wrong with the name day? It's only an angel of the sun. Woman, weaving a web over your own, a thin and tangled poison. Scorpio, bad spider-- die! My death from the wrists, two name tags, blood worn like a corsage to bloom one on the left and one on the right-- It's a warm room, the place of the blood. Leave the door open on its hinges! Two days for your death and two days until mine. Love! That red disease-- year after year, David, you would make me wild! David! Susan! David! David! full and disheveled, hissing into the night, never growing old, waiting always for you on the porch ... year after year, my carrot, my cabbage, I would have possessed you before all women, calling your name, calling you mine.
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62
There once was a man from Nantucket Who kept all of his cash in a bucket. But his daughter, named Nan, Ran away with a man And as for the bucket, Nan took it
0
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 2:26 AM UTC
There once was a man from Nantucket
Why was I born an obstacle? Why is being a woman, considered as one? For I can learn and I am capable Yet none of it matters, for I am not a son If you truly need more soldiers Please just take me instead My father knows no limits, but I do Just treat me as one of your men I will fulfill my role as a soldier I am a female and a fighter I am a woman and a warrior I may not be perfect But I will fight for her The girl in the looking glass Who has failed as a daughter She will fulfill her role as a soldier She is a woman, she is a warrior She is the girl worth fighting for
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Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 1:52 AM UTC
The Girl In The Looking Glass
I am she Who compliments & completes The dream-lover and wishes Made when he is asleep. I am she Who suffers the most, Giving birth, cradling ghosts, As the crone or maid, (Once and always) Sister, mother, daughter, wife. I am she Who waits through the night. I am she Who equals the strength Of his light. "See me with your loving eyes, See me more than the tears I've cried!" I am she Who is willing To go with him to war, Not a man but as an equal, (I'm both soft yet hard) I am she To whom he'll give his heart I am the tunnel's bright end I am where The family starts, The breast which nurse small men. I am she The twin, The Juliet, The Goddess divine! I am she Who deserves the same in life, and for all time. (Peace be…) I am she I am you I am her I am the one besides And inside She is I… The romance in the dress, Patient Partner to the ends, Tiny dancer on the floor I am The one that loves you Forever & Evermore.
0
Dec 1, 2019
Dec 1, 2019 at 10:20 AM UTC
I Am SHE (for Women's Day)
threads of salt drowned land and sea brisk on the shore to the vine of the tree not fruit not sweet but check beauty check redolent check dog named after and sea urchin-robbed the steps taken through the pink the sunken ships the little women with big hair the jewelry that weighed them down to drown drown drown the flower floats like a headstone from the hand of a daughter to the mouth of the sea where God still reigns with a crooked shaft and a helmet long struck by the sky pink the ocean loses its way through the flowers thorns and all
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Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 8:24 PM UTC
pink ocean at sunset
I am quick to cry and to anger and people think I'm strange. They don't see how hard I try to control it, I know I'm seen as deranged. Emotions can be overbearing and it's difficult to stay quiet when someone upsets me It's simply not easy to hide it. I guessed for a long time that the issue was with me. But I thought I could watch maybe learn their technique. For keeping a cool head when things get heated. Instead of losing it over nothing and feeling totally defeated. I was wrong it turned out. I don't have breaks I have border as in borderline personality disorder. I got a diagnosis and was incredibly afraid that people would treat me like someone who'd contracted the plague. While I wasn't right, I wasn't totally wrong, mental illness is unfortunately still mostly ignored. If I was unwell with a headache, people would ask 'Are you okay?' 'Here I've got Panadol Actifast.' But when the ills In the mind and I say 'I'm feeling down' 9 times out of 10 people get freaked out. So it's tough when you're shamed For having a disorder A lot of normal people suffer So could your son or daughter. So next time you hear someone say 'I'm feeling down.' Do me one favour and please, just don't freak out. It's hard enough already dealing with this day to day without having friends turn their backs and walk away.
0
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
BPD
they emerge from the wooded neighborhood ridge and fringe at dusk into breadth of lawn & limb. witchy chicks casting banter n bitchcraft. teenage dead end dreamers tipped in black magick lip gloss & glitter, their genderfluid familiars &/or wayward boyfriends apparate in the street pink cloud spinning wheel, & hawking bile. ****** stella smile. swallow a hex, send a snap, tongue along his neck promising to fold bodies before sunrise. the effervescent gasp of post-ritual clarity. in the house, is a kid. a gig. the devil with a younger grip. & the kid thrills on a bit of the ol’ u l t r a v i o l e n c e. ****** videogames, ****** anime, ****** mayhem n melodic music. he is a conduit of dark energy. a pure blooded offering of the stone age/video age, mind in a kind of kaleidoscopic way. he is me. bred on televised bucket slime ceremonials. she checks her purse. drugs & snacks & juul & a pretty dead bird. a daughter of delphi watching your kid. tending to him. trending him. popcorn smelling him, the texas chainsaw massacre on vhs just before bed. palace of teeth n twigs. just a short walk to the edge and then its bath time. the demon version is grisly and cruel. the angel version is starry-eyed and adventurous. to conjure some thing, at the cliff jumping. it was fun.
0
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
babysitters on acid (eat, pray, love, conjure satan)
One Family united as one Father Mother Daughter and Son In unity we can set things right In the darkness be the guiding light Keep your mind open Keep hoping That family brings truth to all lies spoken We can set it straight I can't wait till the date We all can relate Not to hate A Families love Black,White our blood is both red One people One world let's move ahead We can do it Show you care We'll get together for one big Family Affair
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Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
Family Affair
i have slept restlessly for  nights now, reliving the events that have conjured within the past 72 hours. i think to myself, how would anyone want to bring another into this world knowing the pain they will endure? yes. you will feel pain, indescribable, chest filling, body aching pain from your head to your toes. i wont try to paint a perfect picture of this world and let you down. hating me every moment for the things i never said. you will be beaten down by others, torn away from the connection you thought you had. you will sit in a coffee shop alone, biting your lip with anxiety, and he will call you in the dead of night pleading for you to keep him company once more. you will miss the way you looked at the world, with innocence and purity, reliving every moment of suffering and rewriting its pages. you will invest your heart in people, things that will only let you down. but sweet child this suffering that you feel will be soon over. it is how you overcome these situations of awkward confrontation and scandalous betrayal. because one day a bee will buzz past you and you will jump up and down like a child again, tugging on the end of your own dress, smiling. you will laugh once again because the perpetual love you feel from those who surround you with positive energy will fill the gaping hole of disappointment that the world has so willingly handed you. like i said, i will not paint a perfect picture for you, because every artist has their flaws, but they cover them oh so well. and you should never have to carry that kind of burden. love always, me
0
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 8:07 PM UTC
to my future daughter
i have slept restlessly for  nights now, reliving the events that have conjured within the past 72 hours. i think to myself, how would anyone want to bring another into this world knowing the pain they will endure? yes. you will feel pain, indescribable, chest filling, body aching pain from your head to your toes. i wont try to paint a perfect picture of this world and let you down. hating me every moment for the things i never said. you will be beaten down by others, torn away from the connection you thought you had. you will sit in a coffee shop alone, biting your lip with anxiety, and he will call you in the dead of night pleading for you to keep him company once more. you will miss the way you looked at the world, with innocence and purity, reliving every moment of suffering and rewriting its pages. you will invest your heart in people, things that will only let you down. but sweet child this suffering that you feel will be soon over. it is how you overcome these situations of awkward confrontation and scandalous betrayal. because one day a bee will buzz past you and you will jump up and down like a child again, tugging on the end of your own dress, smiling. you will laugh once again because the perpetual love you feel from those who surround you with positive energy will fill the gaping hole of disappointment that the world has so willingly handed you. like i said, i will not paint a perfect picture for you, because every artist has their flaws, but they cover them oh so well. and you should never have to carry that kind of burden. love always, me
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3
I am a Transgender Citizen - ( An American Citizen ) I am a Transgender MTF - ( With Opinion's ) I am a Transgender Female - ( With Feeling's ) I am a Transgender Girl - ( With Emotion's ) I am a Transgender Woman - ( With Love ) I am a Transgender Christian - ( With Faith ) I am a Transgender Parent - ( Of 2 Beautiful Yellow Labrador Retriever's ) I am a Transgender Friend - ( Too Many People ) I am a Transgender Sister - ( Too My Many Sister's ) I am a Transgender Sister - ( Too My Many Brother's ) I am a Transgender Daughter - ( Who Currently Isn't Loved By ? ) I am a Transgender Person - ( Who Vote's ) I am a Transgender LBGTQ - ( Who Accept's ALL ) I am a Transgender , Who has too Hide , Because most of Society Say's they love Unconditionally , But Only if - I / We / Us - are who , They say We are . And "" NOT "" who We say We are GOD - Created Me & You & Them  & Yet "" ? "" They & Sometimes even Us  Judge each other "" ? "" And yet GOD clearly Tells Us , "" NOT to JUDGE "" each other But too Instead "" LOVE "" one another By day I am a Person , I do not wish too Be On weekdays I am a Person , I do not wish too Be By Night time I am the Girl , I want too Always Be On Weekends I am Mostly the Girl , I want too Always Be And so You all can "" CLEAR'LY "" see I am A Transgender Person / Female Named Stacie Leelah Cheyenne I AM in fact "" ME ""
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Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
I am Stacie / I am a Transgender ( MTF ) & I am Proud of Me :
India is my Motherland Only democracy on the earth. United we're We're one. We want Peace. We don't War. Where diversity meets Unity. Where abundance meets Opportunity. The land of dreams The land of fairies. My Motherland My Pride I Love my India.-17.01.2016 (Backdrop:-In general,Manager places order but yesterday its was a request(humble).Reason being is;its required for her Sweetheart(Daughter)of 4.6 years for the recitation competition most probably on the Republic Day.So,here we go...)
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Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 2:23 AM UTC
I