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Radical
Acts
Not
Demeaning
Optical
Meanings
Non-explosive
Extraor­dinary
Scrumdidilyumtious
Secrets
Abhijit Apr 2013
In this rat race to be fair,
Haven't we skewed our perceptions
Of beauty, and how we should be?
It sure shouldn't be based,
On the tone of your skin!
Wouldn't you consider it demeaning,
If you were the one ridiculed?
Here in India, all I see is people wanting to be fairer. Look around, and fairness cream ads are everywhere. And the sad part is, more and more girls are buying into the crap; even boys are now!
Carsyn Smith Jul 2014
One evening I was walking home,
nice dress and heels stomping pavement
of the moonlit streets in my home city.
I've got something you'd love to grab onto, babe.
Catcall. It's not a compliment. It's demeaning.
He says *****, but all I seem to hear is
strong. daring. opinionated. outspoken.
Because that's what he's saying
when I stand up for myself.
when I act outside the roles of a "good" woman.
What he hope, with a five letter word,
is that I'll shut up, sit down, be seen and not heard.
because that's what being a woman is:
suppressed.
So, thank you sir, because all you've really done
is given me a reason to fight harder
a purpose to speak louder
and a way to stand taller.



"I've got something you'd love to grab onto, babe."

"What a shame... I forgot my tweezers."
This may not have happened to me personally, but it's happening to too many strong women today. Raising awareness is one step closer to stopping misogynist *******.
Tommy Johnson Jun 2014
Wail
Whine
And flail

Regale us with your colorful photographic memory
But use discretion, there are children here

We had Schnapps in a spray bottle
At the time I had the most unsightly uni-brow
And they asked us all to define the term "tongue-in-cheek"
We laughed and said, "Never go *** to mouth!"
We got suspended

We decided to pull out the heavy artillery
And painted a giant **** on the side of the school
We needed an auxiliary artist
So we hired an abstract
He spray painted "Get up and go, lay down and die"
Right on the main entrance, so incredibly serupticiously
And in such an irregular manner, as if he put every ounce of his disdain towards that institution of  lower learning in every movement
Like Van Gogh in real life live action

The next morning, hot off the press was our act of vandalism
We foiled the plans of the faculty to have a nice school day
They acted perfectly, like it was scripted
Angry, horrified and ashamed

The sound of us patting ourselves on the back was incomparable to anything we've ever felt
Even my incontinent grandmother laughed

But soon all the movers and shakers at city hall demanded the ones guilty were found
They rechecked the security footage again and again
They went through student records
It all lead to us
They picked me up while I lied drunk on top of scraps of nonsensical
writings
I resisted arrest and became a victim of police brutality
Knight sticks slammed into my chest
Tips of pointed boots driven into my stomach
And demeaning verbal abuse to my person

The aftermath was all of us serving six months in juvy
Surrounded by incompetent correction officers
And just waiting for our boys to spring us
If I had a chance to do it all over, I'd do it all again
“death everywhere, not age or ancient, just an infiltrated lack of life”

a puzzling, troubling line in a personal message,
instantly isolated for further review,
needy indeedy for a second medical opinion,
for it’s a description of two,
an actual place and a state of being

a place where death seems more commonplace,
not from agedness or honor,
but from a madness drunk from a special cocktail of
heat, guns and pseudo-rock stars, with beer chasers

imbibed by those who imagine themselves INRL  
in a movie genre of specialized urban cowboys,
subset horror flick,
self-appointed angels

part of a world view
so pervasive that it infiltrates the mental water supply
and modifies the pure children early on

demeaning existence, with a sense, a sendup,
life is unreal, cheap, so taking it-is ok,
justice delivered, for we angels,
are subset,
angels of death

in a country where
seven out of ten believe in angels,
and one in four confident that
the sun revolves around the Earth

look to blame
polluted water
the ever-overheated atmosphere,
bringing typhoon and storm,

I do not know

how be sun and water,
the essences, the originations of all life
today come to the planet days still
clear and warm,
yet can not infiltrate our personal mystery,
respire, re-spark the notion of the spirit,


the simple sanctity of life peculiarly human
call me by my other name
mystified momma
The fog crept in on giant monster claws,
Surely no itty-bitty feline foots, I pray:
“Feets don’t fail me now,”
A line that will live in infamy,
Way back in a vaudeville when,
A minstrel Chitlin Circuit then,
Was an actor known as the
"Laziest man in the world,"
A character designed to stick to a
Collective white consciousness,
Stick like Tar-Baby, that negative
Image of African-American men--
I speak of The Brothers--
Who for over a century, have been
Struggling to live down a pernicious,
Most persistently demeaning,
Hollywood trope.
Tribute is due to the black actor born:
Lincoln Theodore Monroe Andrew Perry.
Oh, Mr. Perry, & yes, you were the
First black actor to receive
Screen credit in a film.
Well, I guess that puts you right up there,
With Jackie Robinson & Sidney Poitier,
Carver or Tubman, or any of those
Countless northern abolitionists--
With no personal stake in slavery,
Or emancipation, but fervent nonetheless--
Color-barrier breakers &
Household saints a-coming &
A-marching in, in that number . . .
You paid a big price, Mr. Perry:
The indignity & débauche,
By abject surrender to the Boss Man,
Tribute, recognition is due for
Feats of humility & self-abasement,
Entailing total superhuman surrender,
Capitulation to the dismal, prevailing
State of American race relations at the time.
Stepin Fetchit: a name & a persona,
Not just painfully racist, but
Downright subversive.
Tunde Lakanu Jun 2017
Emotion is linear when I have clarity
I observe the unknown
It isn't civil to express benevolence without remembering your own
Moments construe laments of pridefulness without knowing what to do
I sink deep while unfurling the truth

Your eyes gleamed when you told stories of home
You protected hope
The sacred bond elapses
Being my father was nothing more than to provide the savior faire for me to cope

The impossibility to live up to your standards
To seek demeaning attention
To breathe only when told to
You showed me that standards were of my own
To expose the will I had to be good at something I enjoy

The garden you mailed to me is something I still take care of
You taught me things are meant to fall apart so I can put them together
I hold on to your spirit because my children will know
The garden you made was real enough for me to grow
Cassie Stoddard Mar 2014
I'm a feminist because I deserve to walk down the street to the grocery store without getting the **** scared out of me by a honking car. I'm a feminist because although I may have short hair that doesn't make me a lesbian. And if I am a lesbian or bisexual or straight that's all okay. And it's all my business, not yours. I'm a feminist because when I go to look up a **** to watch, it takes so long to find one that isn't demeaning. I'm a feminist because I shouldn't have to make jokes about sleeping around to make it okay. Other people shouldn't judge me on my amount of ****** partners. I'm a feminist because everyone deserves a comprehensive *** education that teaches about all sorts of choices, not just abstinence and not just heterosexual experiences. I'm a feminist because I want to wear a bandeau in public and not be thought of as a ****. I'm a feminist because I hate shaving my legs and that's okay. I'm a feminist because women still make less then men and it's 2014. I'm a feminist because boys are still not supposed to cry, because a girl said that she think trans people shouldn't be on T.V. I'm a feminist because I believe that people should be judged by the way they act and how they treat others, not by their genitalia, something that wasn't even their choice. I'm a feminist because every time a little girl is liberated so is a little boy. I'm a feminist for that little boy in daycare who dresses up as a fairy and for my friends who aren't "straight", for the guy who I know is gay but has to hide because even he believes it's wrong. I'm a feminist for all the children out there being told who they have to be before they even know who they want to be. I'm a feminist because I can't not be.
Lauren Gorger Jul 2015
**** your condescending words, dripping out of your mouth with false justification, while your left hand leaves your side to crash down on the entirety of me.
With this mindset, it'd never be right to have the upper hand on me.
You deceive your right hand man.
**** your demeaning doubts that you place upon my mind, begging to come in and destroy the art I have displayed inside.
I did not cry out for you, so why are you here? Speaking of which, I remember when my cries drove you to steer far from anything that might be near my heart.
You don't get to see me fall apart.
You don't get to see me tear down the art away from its poetic position, just so you can place it in a box and treat it like its garage  sale quality.
I get to have all of me.
**** your motives ulterior that are just as superficial as your leather interior.
**** being inferior to the ones who cannot function if they're not superior.
I've been living on my feet for the sake of time, and you're only getting off your knees because you're out of it.
**** being distant from truth because you don't like the sound of it.
Drown a bit in the waters of self-confrontation, and choke on the paralyzed verbs you throw at the population.
**** validation.
**** your accusations.
And **** being mistaken when the step you've taken is only a misstep.
You are not your mistakes.
So **** letting the outtakes paint the scenery of your film.
My patience is wearing thin like a film on the edge of an outdated window seal.
**** making me feel something that was never real because your seal was never sealed tight enough, ******* in cold nights when you didn't write enough.
Riled up in silence with a heart beating violent...
**** allowing your chest to become the battlefield and letting stress feed your diet.
I've tried it and tried it, but today I say...

**** being quiet.
Star Gazer Apr 2016
It's 10 pm, Saturday night. I'm down in Jessie's place, just to join her in a lust filled night of sorts. Her blonde hair radiating from the lamp on the night stand. I carry her in my arms, both arms out resembling a father carrying a newborn baby except she wasn't my baby, not in that sense anyways. The tension in the air was so thick that even a butter knife couldn't spread the tension, but me and jessie had spread on our mind.

I could smell her alluring scent as I lay her down onto the bed, it must have been the thrill of daring to step into a boundary we had no knowledge existed. Love thy neighbour as heavenly quoted by men and women all around the world, I guess I was abiding by what I have been taught.

A little bit about Jessie, Jessie had these mesmerising blue eyes and had a husband, John,a fine husband, a brave husband who was filled with love.  John wasn't ever one to toot his own horns but he had the right to refer to himself in the third person, why wouldn't John be given the right? He's awesome and extremely brilliant at that. Nothing short of Superman or Einstein is what John has been told.

Jessie has been my neighbour for years, ever since I could remember. I drink a lot, so I haven't exactly the best memory of when or wheres. It was how we met, she was my neighbour and I was hers. Now we were closer, so close to the point that I could see her blue eyes staring into mine.

"Jess, I hope it's Ok, I wrote you ... a little poem. That's not...umm too weird right ?"

"Sure, as long as it's not something too eerie. Don't be too...what's that word?... Sappy" Jessie nodding in agreeance.

The words glided out of my lips like a gold medalist ice skater, with elegance and soft subtle seductive intentions.

'Love is like an ocean,
The sounds of crashing waves against rocks,
That mimic the sound of my heartbeat,
Love is more than an emotion,
Love is the echo of water dripping in a cave,
Love is a poison and a potion,
It is the pollen that fills the spring air,
Love can cause chaos and beauty
It holds onto your hearts and never lets go'.

I ended my recital by looking into Jessie's direction for affirmation of its quality, I couldn't actually pinpoint her ****** response but I'll try my best to capture it. Her eyes, rolled to one side in a condescending and demeaning manner but her smile was filled with some sort of ...actual craving for more.

My lips shot forward similar to the teens 'duck-face selfie poses', and I asked "So... do you ... like?".

Silence...

I waited for a little longer, or what felt like an eternity in my mind's timeframe.

Silence again...

I expressed my regret "Sorry, I'll recite another one?... Yes? "

"The sun and the moon,
You see they were friends,
But not everything twist and bends,
And even though the sun loved the moon,
He had loved her since yesterday's noon,
When she wasn't even around, he loved her.
Somewhere far away in the horizons,
It clearly never seemed to occur,
In her mind that he was thinking of her.
So every night, while birds and bees went to sleep
He died.
Just so her light could shine above his.
He died.
Just so her close friends, the stars could visit.
He died.
Just so the world appreciated her beauty,
Rather than his necessity."

Jessie still dressed in her singlet and underwear, quickly rose on two feet as a Chevrolet pulls up her driveway. A man with a neanderthal-like figure burst through the door yelling, ' I leave for business... and ya'll ******* in my house? ON MY ******* BED!!'

I tried my best to get past his door, because it was the only way I knew I would be able to keep my current state, the state of being still alive.
...

Jessie trying to explain everything with words, yes ...trying to use words with what clearly is a caveman.

'Darlin' we didn't do anything, he's just here yappin' on about something with moons and suns. I swear, I didn't do anything indecent'.

The caveman spoke again, in proper non-swearing, non-screaming English.
     'Sons? He was tryin' to put a baby in you? THAT'S IT!!.. Imma **** him!!'

That was the day I met John.
[A K-star and Beautiful Moon piece]

A little story for people who have nothing better to do. It's something I've written a while ago with my best friend. I thought you all should know a little about me before I flee away. I am a 20 year old student, who enjoys humour and it has come at the cost of the most important people and things in life. Uhh I do my best to make people happy or at least try to stay out of their way if they are on their way to find it. In the end of the day, no matter where my brain is or what my brain is thinking about, I can still sing and dance because I have something strong, I have will, a will to make myself happy.  I have had moments where I have wronged some of you (SPT...chloe....yea I'm kinda an ******* without realising ...I just wanted to say sorry).

Last story- Last thing I'll ever write (well in this case edit)...

Now all that's left for me is Essays until the day I can pick up my creative side once again.

Remember there's still ink in my pen.

This is like my third time saying bye.... ... I'm kind of addicted to this site, so I must cut it loose to start fresh. You know, sometimes you have to push your past away, to start over, you have to let go of everything , every emotion, every connection, everything just to be clear minded. I guess I'm doing my best to be clear minded again.

Bye to my fellow friends and poets, my poet friends and everyone.
Jordan Covington Jan 2012
Fall in love or, fall in hate?
Sit and sigh or, motivate?
Understand or, wallow silence?
Live a life without the violence.
Do what’s right or, feel your wrong?
Find a place where you belong.
Happiness is all so worth it.
Who’s to say that we deserve it?
We take for granted what we’ve got.
No one sees that it’s a lot…
So much to be thankful for;
Yet we’re all demanding more.
I’ve made mistakes, I understand.
No longer will I demand…
None is better than what I’ve got.
The beauty is; I’ve got a lot.
It’s sad all this time has passed…feeling sorry goes by so fast.
I’ve been selfish; so, demeaning.
I lost my drive; Life lost its meaning.
I’m coming back. I need no closure.
This is done; this is over.
Back to how I was before; drowning sorrow is no more.
Far beyond my simple range; to fix myself and make my change.
I Went Through A Long Period Of Depression. I'm 15 Years Old... It Took Me So Long To Realize That I Was Being Selfish. I Was Taking For Granted The Beautiful Things God Blessed Me With. I Wrote This Almost As My Closure. Since Then, I've Been Sober 10 Months And Am Regaining My Faith Along The Way With My Brother's Help .
Diane May 2016
His mouth was a nuclear leak
     (he fried his brain when he was 17)
And I can’t get the burning toxins off my skin
     (and that is as far as he ever grew up)
Some of them have seeped in deeper, I can
     (he’s amused by stick figure animation)
Hear them rupture the seams of my insides
     (and the shuffling photos of his obsessions;)
My brain thankfully, is still intact
     (his car, his clothes, his kids…and me)
Fighting this fight heroically
     (my god, to be one of his children)                                      
Anxiously looking over my shoulder
     (he can’t keep a nanny for very long)
Refuting his demeaning accusations
     (no one stays in his life who is not on payroll)
******* Narcissist
     (but even they all quit eventually)
Still forgiving myself for letting it happen
     (oblivious that his entourage disrespects him)
This antithesis-of-me-toxic-bath
     (he is incapable of giving or deserving trust)
Disdained my beliefs and philosophies
     (he still wishes he had his mullet of 1986)
Demanded my selflessness without return
     (and the older woman he ****** in high school)
Reduced me to dismissible arm candy;
     (immature alcoholic tantrums lie just)
The missing feature of his pride
     (below the surface of every conversation)
And I can’t shake this feeling
     (which speak exclusively of himself and his many impulses)
That I have truly met evil face to face
     (or the stupidity of humanity who serve his whims)
Afraid to realize how narrowly I escaped  
     (his highest dream is to own a personal servant)  
Except for the residue
     (explains his demands clearly and concisely)
Adhering like burned on soap ****
     (believes money and a big **** make him a man)
I feel like he will never, ever really be gone
     (his reptilian brain controls every move)
That he will still try to own me or make me
     (“I don’t want to be an *******, I’m just really good at it”)
Pay for refusing to surrender my soul
     (funny, those words almost make me feel sorry for him)
Empire May 2019
I like to believe
My pride is rooted
In insecurity
Because somehow
That's better?
However some
Nagging notion
Makes me wonder if
My self-demeaning
My self-sabotaging
My self-harming
Is all simply to hide
From myself and
From the world
The arrogance
Consuming my mind
There's this strange sense of cycling that makes cause and effect far more confusing than one would think... especially when you're not sure you want the answer.
Thomas M Franey Aug 2015
I sit, in my prison of fears, dreams, hopes and consequences thinking,
I am thinking about my life, but most  importantly, what I want and desire. Tonight my thought is of you, as I look back and ask why? Why do I care, why do I feel, and why did I give my true love and honour.

In better times, you were the symbol of fun, new hope, and excitement.
I laughed a bit more, taste the fruits just a bit better, and saw the colours a bit brighter as excitement ran through my veins. I remembers days conversing about everything and nothing, exploring each other's favorite music, dance, style, and humour.

I grown to trust as a friend and romance as a prospect as I seen bits and pieces in you that I have not seen in others. As comfort set, so did fear and anxiety of the next chapter. It hindered, broke, scared, and hurt us. We experience forces that successfully broke us out of envy and jealousy of our closeness. Half the times we were stronger, other times, weaker as other people painted green while we only saw mud brown.

I spent many upbeat nights , dancing in my mind the beauty of the friendship and the words once said, and many nights crying, for the pain and hurt that is inflicted.

I will always not understand everything, especially the small magic that occurred as sometimes I feel insignificant to the only person I feel who is the most significant.

For the first time, I held the hand that shaken, cleaned the tears of confusion and pain, and gave only from my soul and heart, because I  just know it felt right. I watch every time unneeded, I become again void as once again I am imprisoned under negative energy and mirrors.

Always looking to cracked the bad mirror to prove the beauty and love within me, asking for a glare of notice, because as every day unfolds, I have a basic feeling of deep admiration and love solely on the history and fantasy combined we created. And I have no fear as the worst always have happened, leaving deeper in sorrow.

I realize I am a failure, not because I fail, but I found a reason to refuse to fail, as my stubborn heart persists and my mind fights. Despite the exposure of love and acceptance, for each positive influence I experience, I cannot fully appreciate as I wait for the perfect connection between what I admire and my self-reflection. When I promise to cross waters without swimming, taking hits without shields, and stopping time to fulfill my integrity, I meant it deeply as I have already executed my words.

Many times that I have drowned, shot by criticism from within and afar, broke past self budgeting, and surpass my expected limitations, I just know would do it all over again just to reflect on my mistakes to give a better story. It is my creed.

I may be a fool in many eyes, but finding a diamond with so many colourful flaws is very rare to me, and cannot be duplicated in effort or by chance. Seeing someone hold your hand as I wrapped in cold quietness is my pain, as I run out of ideas to bring forth the smile I have seen before, and the meaningful tears of love I once heard. If you were  colour, you are that shade of violet. Very loud, misunderstood, never available in most settings, but yet the shade that always sang to me.

Crucify me for being an idiot for loving, as I stand by whom I chose as my twin flames of friendship. I miss you because I have too. Some days I am glad I met someone who taught me that I could love for real, and some days I regret demeaning myself. I am guilty by creed.

As i always say, you given me spontaneous energy , in which gave my life some flavour beyond salty-boring. This here, what I am saying now, is just another random of spice to add to the ***, but in deep honesty, this is farther from the truth of randomization. I have written this starting from months ago, only in heart in mind, only to be transposed as words today.  I plea insanity, I plea the fifth, but I plea for recognition as I am guilty of melting by your presence. I refuse to walk the lines of this magic as a failure.

I offer my heart, eyes, soul, wisdom, fruits and prospects, just to see the smiling thanks and admiration I saw before existence of my deeper prison. Let me drink a cup of java and dance the floor of reality one day, and I promise the music will be more than moderately dismal. Within many days, we could choose to flour that pasta, and dip it into the sauce I prepared slowly. Let's ad-lib some more words into a book, and see what the sunset really looks like. With all of me, Peace.

Thomas~
Deepest and truest words I can spell that can explain 10% of what I'm feeling and what I see. If hawking can find a way out of a black-hole. So can I? Maybe I should delete this.
Jennifer Dyann Aug 2010
Every time you enter a room
Your beauty it just simply blooms
It’s seen by every single person whom
Is near your light and are consumed

You open your mouth to the largest smile
So bright, so white, so worthwhile
It may pause during trials
But once it’s back, it can reach as far as miles

Your purpose so great
Such a difference you make
With everything at stake
Blessings your way continue to await

You live each day with meaning
While the world is still weaning
Off of everything so demeaning
You take a stand for what’s right and continue intervening

Such powerful storms
Yet the woman inside continues to transform
You have yet to give in and conform
As your heart still stays warm

During all the agony and distress
You always confess
The sins you possess
And convictions nonetheless

Among all the mistakes
The misjudgments that quaked
Your heart it would break
As others’ would ache

Your testimony will reign
While others only try to admire and attain
The strength you have always maintained
And all the people’s lives you have changed

Throughout all the depths you have come from
The souls for Jesus you’ve won
For when judgment day comes
You’ll hear, “Daughter, job well done."
Jade Inman Jan 2014
I'm tired of dreaming while you are demeaning my entire existence,
And I'll go the distance to prove my insistence,
But, baby, I need some resistance.
I'm becoming more like leather, tougher than ever.
You say this can never be more
And I want to accept it, but I always neglect it.
Fighting it, I'm not wrecked yet.

Inevitable reject, I beg to forget
Of all that's yet to reflect
How much pain's been caused,
my feelings flawed.
If I were completely truthful
I'd tell you your words are hurtful,
leaving me less hopeful, more doubtful.

This dream is ending.
It's time to put our friendship to the test.
Are you going to be a member or just another guest?
Yes, I'm hurt.
But I will survive.
Now my only concern is losing you
And saying goodbye.
Gaffer Apr 2016
He always brought the subject up at the most inappropriate of times, usually when some **** was trying to **** us.
Are you a believer now.
If I get out of this, I’ll think about it. We got out of it.
God was looking after us.
I would like to think my rifle was looking after me, but if you think it was your god bolt, or Jesus sticker, I’m happy for you.
Why do you never use the word christian.
Probably cos I’m a non believer.
You don’t believe god saved you today.
No, I believe I saved me today.
Let me read you this passage from the bible.
I’m already reading my own bible, it’s called *******.
You do know that is demeaning to women.
I don’t know, did jesus not hang out with a prosey.
Jesus saved Mary, there is a difference.
Oh, touched a nerve there goddy boy.
I will pray for you.
Why do you people do that, why do you love sinners.
So we can show you the error of your ways.
Do you know what I think, I think you all get together at the weekends, you do all this god stuff, but it’s not really enough, cos you all agree with each other. so when I come along, and you convert me, it’s collective creaming. Am I right, or am I right.
Something tells me I will never convert you, but I’ll keep trying.
Why do you do all this bible bashing, I mean, you’re a great soldier, a thinker. that’s a rare breed in our game.
I want you to do something for me.
Is there a god involved.
Indirectly there is.
I’m intrigued, shoot.
If I die out here, I want you to go into my church and say goodbye to me.
How does that work, I don’t have to pray or anything do I.
No, you can run in if you want, say goodbye, and run out.
Okay it’s a deal, but I want you to do something for me if I die.
Okay then, what is it.
Right, I want you to go to the brothel. Now this is very important, I’m onto the Chinese race now, so you must do your best for me.
You know I can’t do that for you.
Just testing you. Okay I want you to go into the brothel, give the money over to the lady, explain how great I would have been if I was there in person. But under no circumstances try to convert her, none of that self gratification stuff.
Okay, it’s a deal.

Tell you what goddy boy, we could do with some divine intervention here, give your boss a shout. a small earthquake should do the trick.
So you’re a believer now.
If he kills all the baddies, I’ll convert yesterday.
See what I can do.
You’ve failed, let's get to **** outta here, c’mon, now’s not the time to pray. C’mon Michael, Michael.

The town was a *******. Not surprised you got out mate, I’ve only been here five minutes, and I want to top myself. The church had seen better days, half a roof, half of everything by the look of it. He loitered outside, trying to figure it all out. The walk in was a slow one. So strange, he felt like a child again, awkward to the point the words wouldn’t come out.
The priest saved him.
You look lost my son, can I help.
Yeah, I’ve come to say goodbye to a friend, Michael Sommers.
Ah_Michael will be sadly missed, he was helping to rebuild the church. As you can see, we’re slowly but surely getting there. In a strange way, Michael's death has really helped, he left everything to the church.
How much more do you need to finish the job.
Ten thousand pounds, then the restoration can begin.
Your lucky day father, Michael left me money to give to you, ten thousand pounds to be exact.
This is truly  a momentous day, you don’t know how much this will mean to the community. The spirit will return now.


You ******* Michael, I should have ran in, and ran out. There goes my month of high class immorality, I can just about afford a pint in your local pub now. Christ, I should have given the money to the pub, what a dump. The only saving grace was the girl serving behind the bar. Gives a pint of what you serve here.
We serve beer, the same as every other pub in the world.
Okay, gives a pint of your worldly beer.
Did you fall out the wrong side of the bed this morning.
I’ve had a bit of a shock.
You don’t look the sort of person who shocks easily.
I was in your local church.
Funny, you don’t look like the sort of person who frequents churches.
I’m not, I was saying goodbye to a friend.
Anybody I know.
Michael Sommers, I don’t suppose he came in here.
You mean, Micky Sommers.
I’m getting a sort of vibe here, did you know him.
Everybody knew Micky.
Tell me he tried to convert you to god.
No, that’s not the Micky we knew.
Okay, I’m getting that vibe again, fill me in.
Well, I suppose you could say, Micky was a nutcase.
What, no, we must be talking about a different guy.
I’m Micky’s ex, take my word for it, I watched him nearly **** three guys who got a bit out of order.
In what way.
They made remarks to me.
This is brilliant, glad I came in now.
You're like him, aren't you.
Listen, can I take you for a meal or something, tell you about the Michael I knew.
Well, there is only one restaurant in this town, it’s Chinese.
Fantastic, I’m sort into Chinese at the moment, eight o’clock okay for you.
Eight is fine.
Okay, see you then.

She was to good for you Michael. Christ a girl like that is to good for any guy. I’m going to lie like hell to her, tell her you changed cause you loved her. Christ, I would change for a girl like that. You look after me Michael in your new position now. Did I tell you I’m moving onto the Japanese race now..
Seema Aug 2017
Love has no religion
Nor does hate
But in every society
There is a rate

The superiority of faith
Over the many gods
All who reside in heaven
As we live between odds

If only our blood color
Reflected our skin
Then the religion we belong
Would be easy to pin

The devil in our heads
Plays the tune of hatred
And makes us believe
In other demeaning sacred

Fooling us to the extent
Where we **** each other
Regardless of who they are
Either it's the mother or father

A complete brainwashed
From the faith of love
While rotting in the prison
Then we hail our prayers above...

©sim
Hate no one, love everyone.
  I have not criticized any religion in my poem. Neither do I condemn or degrade any beliefs. I wrote this piece "Love and Religion" just like any other poem I write. It is nothing to do with my personal belief. If my poem somehow gave you a negative insight, then I am truly sorry. Thanks!
Ralph Akintan Jan 2019
Water of remembrance sprinkled
On the mountain crest of recollection.
Indulgent mussy memory catapulted
Stones of retentiveness into the
Courtyard of events like bricole
Of battles.
Pendulum of reminiscences swinging
On oscillating milage of roads like
Trotting horse with drippage of sweat
And itching foots.
Ghost of reminiscences restlessly
Roaming with carriage of yesteryear.

Final year educatees required
Boardinghouse,
But list of items engorged dear
Mother's treasury

"where do l raise money
to buy oyinbo mattress, Ilori?"

Mind pullulated with weariness.
Intonation of worries.
Cantillation of wants.
Deficiency of measured means.
Oyinbo mattress beyond ladder
Of reach.
Gluttonously waiting to devour
Lesser items,
But rays of compulsion unslammed
The gate of respite.

Lordly arrival warmly welcomed by
The dorm room's porter,
Walking majestically to the bed-space
With the acquired cotton wool and raffia leaves mattress.
Gamut of items passed through the eagle's eyes of the housemaster.
Silver painted pail donated by a neighbour passed through the sentry of inspection,
And got its admission.
Mother's used cloak turned bedsheets
Passed through the rigorous scrutiny.
Newly built portmanteau unlocked and neatly dissected, item by item.

Agazed eyes focused on the cotton wool and raffia leaves hand-made mattress.
Expectations rattled mumbling astonishment.
Legs stuck in the mud of mystification.
Telepathic dews covered ocean of thought.
Tranquil silence engulfed vicinity,
Deflating the balloon of hope like a litigant awaiting verdict from the jurist's chambers.
Porter's gesticulating gesture connoted nothingness of demeaning disapproval, perambulating on the hilly terrain of approval.

Akimbo stood l.

Now the verdict!

Molten volcanic magisterial command erupted in a gestapo gesture,
Spudding out from the barytone's baritone voice from the selfsame housemaster,
From the bastion of authority,
And the house generalissimo like a wild brant squalled, matter-of-factly,

"we do not accept bed bugs cotton wool and raffia leaves hand-made mattress here".

Entreaties collapsed.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2019
poems are cheap they say, the supply exceeds the demand,
all are product of criminal mischief, and Lord, I know,
I’m one of the most thieving, most mischiefing ones

when no one was about, I scribbled many notes,
transplanted from my eyes, for a bottled voyage
to fallow beaches for sandy seeding

no matter IF these poems are from your womb ripped,
****** red concoctions of life’s cute cutting edge inscriptions,
no one cares re your titanic love’s labors, your children’s betrayal

no one cares from whence and wherefore they birthed,
all words, low class and progeny, not prodigy, of demeaning circumstances, best tossed back without much foolish hesitation

writ with pen tip of broken green glass from a parking lot,
the point I broke once more before my commencement,
inked from a wicked witch’s melted green spittle pooling alongside

poets of no way, falsely prophesying falsehoods most singularly bad,
waste not-want not, time better spent than reading rhymes of stolen disrepute and cloudy ownership and ignoble authorship

unless you among a blessed few, who see a full blown poem in glassine clarity, birthed fully formed Elton songs in a mouth full of amniotic fund, you, put down thy laboring eleven instruments

if words you claim of new parentage, you as the mother dear,
know there is nothing new under the sun, even these very words,
scripted by Israelite king whose tomb gone, he, too, poet forgotten

join me in a needle park of junkies who tried and failed, nickel bag
smoking budget dope words, in cigarettes of mostly discarded seeds and twigs, hallucinatory inhaling the same vision again & again

you refuse, naturally, glamming in notional newness, your arrogance, a plentiful commodity of wood-be writers by thousands buried in wooden caskets, under wooden inscription-less crosses

and of the trillion readers possible, to coloring picture books and instant grams, all have gone to the labor-free glancing look-see
of a seconds-short, lengthy meme, 10 second videos, 140 limitations

of the greatest, of Shakespeare and Coleridge, reader’s fast-dying, sunburned neurons reply; “free ***** of his Love’s Labour’s Lost, and the Ancient Mariner, overdue, free him too!”

ancients mock you aware that there be no verbal combination yet to foretell, what Lear said, that’s the the idea, “When we are born, we cry, that we are come to this great stage of fools.”^

fools we are, for there be no fore, the tale already told, once before & more, vaingloriously does this poet’s false vanity speak, so, so boisterously,
  
“why my tale, why my tail, is as new as the oldest fossil”
^ King Lear, Shakespeare
Mel Harcum Apr 2015
I was not allowed to be angry, so I bottled and drank
my rage with wine chilled by too many ice cubes--
I suppose that’s why I shiver at inappropriate times.

My parents said: You have to be the better person.
Even as you ***** those girls, called my sister a liar,
mocked my mother and father as they drove to town,

attempted to arrest me for “demeaning of character.”
But I lost my temper, once, I felt it hot like nausea
creeping all the way to my fingertips before I

screamed and shouted and shattered two glass bulbs
hard against the tallest pine tree in our backyard.
I cut my ******* picking up all the chips,

incidentally making me rethink my plan to punch you.
Instead, I imagined myself holding my father’s pistol,
the one he showed me how to shoot from 100ft,

complete with target acquisition training--just in case
you tried running--we both know you never
took me seriously enough for that. I bought a faceless

target shaped like a man, picturing your acne-skinned
cheeks warped with that smirk you wore when I tried
telling you to *******. All this before my anger faded,

fog rising from too-hot blacktop pavement when the air
cooled, snowflakes falling as I stuck my tongue out,
swallowing each crystal like a word I could have said.
DC raw love Dec 2014
you bring me darkness
your heartless
thoughtless
helpless
cold
&
old

you say i have no meaning
to keep on dreaming
to find another
new lover
&
leave

i say your selfish
demeaning
misleading
to your self
conceded
&
old

you bastered
find another
so leave me
i don't care
believe me
i swear

lets say we make up
for one more day
hold the hate
make love
and stay
today
Noah Mar 2014
“If you play baseball, you’re gay.” he said with a stupid grin on his face.
And that time, I had had enough.
I told him, “Shut up, I am tired of hearing you say that.”
For this wasn’t his first time using gay as an insult.
I should have said more.

I should have told him that to him, it’s just a word,
But to those of the homosexual community, it is demeaning.
The fact that our society has become alright with allowing a term that defines something life changing like one’s ****** orientation as a term of slander means one thing.

Our dictionary is out of date.

Our dictionary is out of date because words like gay, ***, queer, and ****** are common practice
We let these words flow from our mouths like a river that has broken through a dam.
They are ceaseless, coming forth without an end in sight.
But they are just words, right?
Stick and stones, right?

Wrong.

It is true that sticks and stones break bones, but not so much that names will never hurt anyone.
Because they do.

They may not hurt you or me, but you and I have thick skin, our skin is armor clad.
But not all were fortunate enough to get a such an impenetrable epidermal layer.
Some only received paper to cover the flesh and bones they call a body.

So you may say “sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me,”
but to those with paper skin, they have never had sticks or stones cut so deep as words have.
A stick can not scar your soul, a stone can not ******* your self image.
But words can affect someone for life.

I know this is true because I know teenagers who it has happened to.
I know a girl who is one of the most beautiful young women I have seen
But she believes otherwise because inspite of my telling her so
She has been a victim hiding in the bombshelter of insults for far too long
Without makeup she does not feel pretty, when she is sick she wants no one to see her face.
She has become a statistic in a society that thinks sticks and stones is a one-size-fits-all policy.




Or what about all of the men, women, and children who take their own lives every day?
Or even the one’s who take their paper skin and shred it with a razor blade?
Try telling them that names will never hurt them, try telling them that they don’t need to do what they do
Try telling them that they are beautiful.
Because I can almost guarantee you that they will tell you
“You’re wrong”
Broken Condom Feb 2014
No
Not Crazy
Just stone cold.

No

Not stone cold.
Just too hot.

No

Not too hot
Just getting too old.

No

Yes

Maybe

Maybe
I’m just
a little bit crazy.

Demeaning delusions
Hostile hatred

A little crazy.

No

Too many vows
Too much shame

Too many cars
Taking up too many lanes.

Not crazy
Not bad
Not evil;

Just full on insane.
i felt weird
Pamella Dec 2014
It is not the amount of time shared
the amout of tears shed,
or the laughter lines that embed:
it is the cold, demeaning dread
that encircles my head
whenever our time together
ends.

- PMT
Entry no. 2: Missing You.

To the significant people you and I miss.
Mike Essig Sep 2015
by Kim Addonizio*

Address older people as Sir or Ma’am

unless they drift slowly into your lane

as you aim for the exit ramp.

Don’t call anyone *******, *******, or *******;

these terms are reserved for ex-boyfriends

or anyone you once let get past second base

and later wished would be ****** into a sinkhole.

Yelling obscenities at the TV is okay,

as long as sports are clearly visible on the screen,

but it’s rude to mutter at the cleaning products in Safeway.

Also rude: mentioning ****** functions.

Therefore, sentiments such as “I went ***** to the wall for her”

or “I have to **** like a chick with a pelvic disorder at a kegger contest”

are best left unexpressed.

Don’t’ say “chick,” which is demeaning

to the billions of sentient creatures

jammed in sheds, miserably pecking for millet.

Don’t talk about yourself. Ask questions

of others in order to show your interest.

How do you like my poem so far?

Do you think I’m pretty?

What would you give up to make me happy?

Don’t open your raincoat to display your nakedness.

Fondling a ***** in public

is problematic, though Botero’s black sculpture

of a fat man in the Time-Warner building

in New York, his ***-*** rubbed gold,

seems to be an exception.

Please lie to me about your *******

and the permafrost layer.

Stay in bed on bad hair days.

When the pulley of your childhood

unwinds the laundry line of your dysfunction,

here is a list of items to shove deep in the dryer:

disturbed brother’s T-shirt,

depressed mother’s socks and tennis racket,

tie worn by ****** father driving the kids home

from McDonald’s Raw Bar. If you refuse

your host’s offer of alcohol, it is best to say,

“I’m so hung over, the very thought of drinking

makes me feel like projectile vomiting,”

or, “No thank you, it interferes with my medications.”

Hold your liquor whenever it is fearful

and lonely, whenever it needs your love.

Don’t interrupt me when I’m battering.

Divorce your cell phone in a romantic restaurant.

Here is an example

of a proper thank-you card:

Thank you for not sharing with me

the extrusions of your vague creative impulse.

Thank you for not believing those lies

everyone spreads about me, and for opening

the door to the next terrifying moment,

and thank you especially for not opening your mouth

while I’m trying to digest my roast chicken.
Àŧùl Dec 2014
I wonder, more I wonder and I wonder more...
Where has that love gone?

I ask the sun, I ask the stars and I ask the air..
Where has that love gone?

I look within me, I seek in you and I realize it's no use.
Where has that love gone?

Was I so controlling, was I so demeaning and was I so stone-hearted??
That love has gone far away!

Were you not too rude, were you not insulting and were you not always on the aggressive???
That love breathes its last in me.
Do rebound back before it's too late, please.

I'll wait for you to call me on 7th of May, 2015.

I have gone against my friends and family's wishes in choosing you.

Please don't let me down, dear.

7th May, 2015

11:59 p.m.

I'll wait till then.

I'm going to just study and shape my career till then.

And of course, I'll truly stay yours.

Whosoever may attempt to distract me, whichever tease may try to pull me, I'll stay true to you.

I'm ready to be referred to as a fool by the people, but my love is true and certainly you'll realize it before it's too late.

I don't want to lose you.

Because I love you, truly, and exclusively, please trust me.

My HP Poem #715
©Atul Kaushal
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
[A] is for
An
Archer with
An
Arrow through his
Adams
Apple, very
Applicable, to the
Ample
Amounts of
Amiable
Attitude,
Adorning his heart, in
After
Action
Attributes, that impart, the
Admiration, of
*******, in this
Acting out of
Arrogance bit. he is,
Astute, in his
Allure, and
Aloof, in the
Air, of
Aspiration, in which, he was
Alienated in the
Agony, of
Asking
Assassins, the
Aforementioned. lights, camera,
Action. recipe of the
Ancient
Admirals of
Avian
Aliens, that
Attacked, with the
Arms and fists, of
Arachnids, now
Aching to be
Activated in sudden
Allegiance to the
Answers, of the truth.
Accumulating wealth for
Anarchy's of
Abating
Angels in
Atrophied,
Alchemical
Academies of the ever
After life .. . of silence.
****** strengthens in these
Accolades of violence, in
Alliance to
Appliances
Appearing in the
Arson of
Apathy, happily, to
Anguish in the
Amputation of my
Abdomen, if it meant i'm a real
American, even, when, only
Ash, remains.
Acclimating in its remains
Attained, the
Articles of my pain, in
Affluent shame, next time ..
Aim... oak
[A]?

[B] is for the
Bah of
Black sheep, and
Big
Bit¢hes, fat cats,
Bombarded in the
Blasted,
Bastion of
Blackened
Benevolent
Blokes,
Berating the
Blasphemous,
Be-seech, of
Brains, to feel
Bad, about the
Blotching of
Binary codes, erroding, the
Blanked out
Books, of
Belittled
Bureaucrats,
Bowling
Back the
Bank rolls of
Betterment, from the
Back of the
Blackened
Bus, as i'm
Busting guts, in the
Bubbling
Butts, of *****
Benched, but
Beautiful, in the
Battle, in the
Bane, of existence.
Baffled, in the strain of
Belligerence, in
Beating the
Beaming
Butchery into
Billy's
Broken
Brains, in
Bouts, of
Battering
Bobby's for
Bags of
*******
Before, affording to
Build
Bombs, is just
Beyond
Breaking
Beer
Bottles on the
*******
Benefactors of
Boulder
Bashing with the
Beaks, of
Birds, with no
Bees. just a
Being, trying to
[B]


[C] is for the
*****
Courting the
Choreography, in
Computerized
Curtains,
Circumventing the
Cultured,
Contrivance of
Chromatic
Cellars,
Calibrating, to the
Contours of
Calamities,
Celebrating the
Cyclical,
Cylinders of
Cyphered
Calenders,
Correcting the
Calculations, of
Crooks
Coughing, in
Courageous
Coffins of
Canadians,
Collecting
Cobble stones, from
Catacombs, in the lands of the
Conquered,
Capturing the
Claps of thieves, sneaky
Cats, of greed. its
Comedy. oh
Comely, to my
Cling of
Cleanliness, and for your self
[C]

[D] is for the
Dip *****, as they
Delve
Deeper in the
Deliverance, of
Deviant
Deities,
Dying to
Demand
Dinner
Delivered in the throws of
Death,
Deceiving
Defiance of
Darkened
Dreams,
Demeaning that which
Deems the
Dormant of the
Dominant, to be
Demons of
Deviled
Devilry,
Dooming us for
Destruction.
Deploy the,
Damsels in
Duress.
Defiled and
Distressed,
Detestable and
Dead. in the thump of
Drums,
Dumbing down the
Debts of,
Dire regrets.
Dissect the
Daisies of,
Disillusion, in the current
Days,
Diluting night into
Dawn,
Disconnecting the
Dots of the
Dichotomy, and arming me, in the
Diabolatry, of,
Demonology, as i watch me
Dwindle away, the
[D]

[E] is for
Everything in nothing,
Eating the
Euphoric
Enigmas of
Enlightened
Elitists,
Exceeding in the
Extravagant
Essence of
Esoteric
Euphemisms,
Escaping the
Elegance of the
Elements in the
Eccentricity of
Eclectic
Ecstasy,
Exhaling, the
Exostential blessings, of inner
Entities, and renouncing the
Enemies of my
Ease,
Easily to appease
Extraterestrial
Empires,
Extracting the lost
Embers of
Enlightenment, in
Excited delight, but to later
Entice, the fight, and
Escape, like a thief into the night of
Everywhere,
Entering the
Exits of
Elevators leading no where, to
Elevate, this useless place,
Encased in malware in the
Errant
Errors of
Every man,
Enslaved, of flesh and
Entrails,
Enveloping the core of
Everything, that matters,
Enduring, the chatter, of
Evermore,
Ever present in
Everybody
Ever made to take
[E]

Funk the
Ferocity of
Foolish
Fandangos, with
Fanged
Fanatics,
Fooled in the
Fiasco of
Fumbled
Fantasies,
Falling through the
Farms of
Freely
Found
Fans,
Flying in the
Fame of
Fortune.
Fornicating on the
Fallen
Fears of
Fat
Fish getting their
Fillet of
Fills.
Feel me in the
Frills

Granted with
Generosity.
Giblets of
Gratitude and
Greed,
Greeting the
Goop and
Gobbled
Gore,
Gleaned from the
Glamour of
Ghouls in
Gillie suits,
Getting what they
Got
Going, in the
Gratuitous
Gallows of a
Game
Gaffed by
Giants.

Hello to the
Horizon of
Hellish
Hilarity, in
Hope of
Happy, to
Heave from
Heifers, to
Help the
Hemp
Harshened
Hobos in
Heightened
Horror, to
Honor the
Habitats of
Hapless
Habituals,
Herbalising the work
Horse, named
Have Not, in the
Haughtily
Hardened
Houses of
Happenstance.

Ignore the
Ignorant
Idiots, too
Illiterate to
Indicate the
Indicative
Instances of
Idiom in the
Irrelevant
Inaccuracy of
I,
In the
Intellect of
Idle
Individuals,
Irritated with the
Irate
Illusion of
Idols
Illustrated upon the
Iris,
In the
Illumination of
I.

******* the
Jobless
Jokers, and
Jimmy the
Jerkins from their
Jammie's, in
Justified,
Jousting off the
Jumps, in
Jokes, and
Jukes of
Just
Jailers,
Jesting for
Jammed
Jury's to
****
Judgment from the
Jitter
Juiced
Jeans of
Jesus.

**** the
Keep of
Khaki-ed
Kool aid men,
Kept in the
Kilometers of
Kits,
Kin-less
Kinetics,
Knifing the
Knights of
Kneeling
Kinsmanship,
Keeling over the
Keys of
Kaine, with the
Karmic
Karate
Kick of a
Kangaroo.

Love the
Levity, in the
Luxurious
Laments of
Loveliness,
Lovingly
Levitating in
Level,
Lucidly.
Living in
Laps, of
Lapses,
Looping, but
Lacking the
Loom of the
Latches
Locked with
Leeches of the
Lonely
Lit
Leering of
Lightly
Limbs, that
Lash at the
Lessers in
Loot of
Lost letters,
Lest we
Learned in the
Lessons of
Liars.

Marooned in
Maniacal
Masterpieces,
Masqueraded as
Malignant
Memorization's of
Motionless
Mantras, but
Merrily
Masking
Mikha'el the
Mundane, who is
Musically
Mused of
Monsters,
Mangling the
Monitor, but
Maybe just a
Moniker of
Marauders.

Never to
Navigate the
Nautical
Nether of
Never
Nears.
Not to
Nit pic the
Naivety of
Nicety.
Notions
Neither take
Note
Nor
Name the
Noise of
Nats in the
Nights of
Neanderthals
Napping in the
Nets of
Ninjas

Ominous in the
Obvious
Omnipotence of
Oblivious
Obligatory
Opulence,
Of
Other
Oddly
Orchards
Of
Offices,
Ordaining
Orifices in
Offers of
Ordinary
Ordinances in
Option-less
Optics,
Optionally an
On-call Oracle, in
Optimal,
Overture.

Perusing the
Pestilent
Pedestals of
Personal,
Parameters,
Pursuing the
Petty
Plumes of
Piety with the
Patience of a
Pharaoh,
******* on the
People with the
Penal
Pianos of
Port-less
Portals, in the
Paperless
Points in the
Palpal
Pats of
Pettiness.
Poor, but
Prideful.

Quick to
Qualify the
Quitter for a
Quick
Quill in
Queer
Quivering of
Quickened
Questioning,
Queried in the
Quakiest of
Quandaries.
Quarantined to a
Quadrant, of
Quagmires.
Questing the
Quizzing of
Quotable
Quartets.

Relax in the
Relapse of
Realizations, and
React with
Racks of
Rolling
Rock to
Rate the
Rep of the
Rain-less.
Roar in
Rapturous
Rendering of the
Random
Readiness in the
Ravenous,
Rallying, of the
Retinal
Refracting of
Reality.
Realigning, the
Righteous
Rearing of the
Realm, and
Retrying.

Steer the
Serenity in
Sustainability, and
Slither through the
Seams of
Slumbered
Scenes.
Secrete the
Solo
Sobriety of
Sapped
Sassys,
Salivating upon a
Slew of
Stupidity,
Steadily
Supplied in
Stream,
Suitably
Slain in the
Steam of
Sanity.
Sadly, i
Still
Seem,
Salvagable.

Topple
The
Titans in
Tightened
Terror.
Torn
Territories
Turn
Turbulent in
The
Teething of
Totality.
The
Telemetry of
Time,
Tortured of
Torrent
Theories,
Told in
Turrets of
Transpiring
Terribleness, from
Tumultuous
Tikes unto
Teens,
Trading
Toys for
Tea.
Thrice
Thrusted upon by the
Tyranny of
Tanks.

Unanimous is the
Ugliness in the
Undertones of
Undreamed
Ulteriors
Undergoing the
Unclean in the
***** of
Utterly
Upset
Users,
Uplifting the
Unfitting
Ushers in
Underwear-less,
Ulcers,
Undergoing the
Ultra of
Uberness.

Venial in
Vindictive
Viciousness of
Vindicated
Venom,
Venomously
Vilifying the
Vials of
Villainy in the
Veins of
Vampires,
Validity of
Valuable
Violence, is
Valiant in the
Vaporous
Vacationing of
Vagrant
Vices.

Why
Whelp in the
Weather
When you can
Wave to the
Whirling
Wisps,
Whipping Where the
Whimsical Were
Way back in the
Wellness of
Whip its,
Wrangling my
World,
With
Waterless
Worms, as
War shouts are
Wasted in the
Wackiest
Walks of
Waking
Wonder.

Xenophobic
Xenogogue, of
Xenomorphic
Xeons, turn
Xyphoid, in the
Xenomenia of my
X, my
Xenolalia of
X, to
***. im lost in the
Xenobiotic zen of
Xerces, on a
Xebec to the
X on the map.
Xenogenesis, in the
Xesturgy of my
Xyston
Xd

Yelling
Yearned from
Yelping.
Yard
Yachts
Yielding, to the
Yodel of
Yeah
Yeahs, to the
Yapping of
******
Yuppie
Yoga
Yanks, over
Yonder.
Yucking it up with the
Yawn of a
Yocal.

Zapped from a
Zone i
Zoomed with
Zeal in the
Zig and
Zag of my
Zapping
Zimming
Zest, upon a
Zombie-less
Zeplin.
Zealot,
Zionist, or
Zoologists,
Zeros or ones, just
Zip your
Zip locked. and
Zzzzz
Zzzz
Zzz
Zz
Z
Zero
this is a work in progress
Spriha Kant Apr 2021
I have always been reluctant for stepping towards the path of expertise because the kid inside my heart laughs out innocuously on my foibles which I prefer over demeaning.

©  SPRIHA KANT
Graff1980 Dec 2018
Chivalry is misogyny
demeaning the feminine,
implying weakness
that needs defending,
and unending serving
by a noble male authority.

Courtesy in counter
is gender neutral
merely seeks to help
in kind
those it finds
needs or could use
assistance.

— The End —