"demonized" poems
I'm struggling with what it means to be a woman.
Does it mean that I am always in competition to be the top of my species?
Does it mean that I need to be perfect without a single curve out of line in order to find love?
Does it mean that I am only defined when owned by a man?
Does it mean that I can only find purpose in childbirth?
Does it mean that I will forever live in the shadow of men?
Does it mean that I am an object invented solely for a man's pleasure?
Does it mean that I'm forced to confine to gender roles and live in someone else's story?
Does it mean that I'm supposed to accept it when I'm harassed from across the street?
Does it mean that I'm supposed to lie there silent when he puts his hands up my skirt?
Does it mean that I am only worth 77 cents to a man’s dollar?
Does it mean that I am defined by my looks rather than my intelligence?
Does it mean that I will never be capable of holding a major position of power due to my mood swings?
Does it mean that I am defined by how many men I have had *** with?
Or does it mean something else entirely.
It's difficult learning to love being a woman.
Obvious and damaging disadvantages are visible to observers.
We are regarded as second best, property of our man.
We are erased from history, our pain is minimized and forgotten.
We are oppressed and have to fight for our rights.
We are afraid to walk the streets at night, afraid for our lives.
We are harassed without care and without penalty.
We are ***** and murdered for refusing proposals.
We are expected to live on the sidelines as a housewife whose only priority should be her children.
We are expected to keep quiet in situations of domestic abuse.
We are expected to be perfect, and pretty, fresh for a man’s picking.
We can’t even advocate for our own equality without being demonized.
There are times where I wish I wasn’t a woman.
Being a woman comes with innumerable expectations, pressures, and responsibilities.
My existence is not defined by a man, or by the patriarchal expectations that have been placed on me.
I am breaking free of my confinements and I’m not afraid to admit that,
I'm struggling with what it means to be a woman. And that's okay.
//sarahmann
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 3:10 AM UTC
Their skin is translucent
Veins crawl across their skin like vines
Their builds slim but rippling with muscles
They approach
Their eyes glow red
Color of blood from a beating heart
Pumping pumping pumping
They glow brighter as they spot their prey
Greasy black wings on their backs
Reflections of screaming faces seem to show
Faces of agony and fear
Right before they feed
Angels sent to earth because heaven didn't want them their
The devil takes them in gives them power
Because he was god's favorite and he was an angel once too
Their sent to punish those
Who escaped death and punishment
To get those who deserve it most
People like you
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 6:52 PM UTC
My dad says that my generation lacks common sense,
but millennials are well on our way to being
the most educated generation
ever.
We're demonized for idolizing Beyonce' and Nicki Minaj,
but wasn't the generation before us
obsessed with a heroin-addicted cynic
who did nothing to improve the world?
The number of people with
eating disorders,
depression,
and anxiety
are higher than they've ever been.
But lord forbid we take a ******* selfie
and love ourselves for that brief moment.
My generation may not be perfect,
but old people's complaints about us
are getting really old.
After all, they're the ones
that ****** everything up for us
in the first place.
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 8:29 PM UTC
Sometimes one has to face the Chimera
Attacked from all sides with lethal intensity
Fighting an imaginary demon, a solitary war
Either, one will emerge a winner, or demonized
Tame the Chimera, before it annihilates
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
what have they done to you,
dear girl with the rainbow hair?
have they saddled you with their insatiable thirst for perfection,
my sweet girl with the rainbow hair?
have they demonized the ground you dare stand,
fearless girl with the rainbow hair?
have the non-believers tore you piece from piece,
my messed up girl with the rainbow hair?
the world will always tear you down,
tender girl with the rainbow hair.
you were never supposed to use your voice,
my deafening girl with the rainbow hair.
do not let them defeat you,
sweet heartbroken girl with the rainbow hair.
whilst machismo is still alive,
the girls will never be safe.
May 4, 2019
May 4, 2019 at 7:16 AM UTC
A World in which free Thought is demonized
is a World seized by Demons
A World in which free Worship is demonized
is a World bereft of Sanctity
A World in which division of the One is glorified
is a World hopelessly mislead
A World which glorifies demonetization
is a World within the dominion of Hell
A World with such abidance towards Evil
may as well, itself, be Evil
but, ultimately, what is Evil
but knowing misuse of potential?
Energy is all that is.
Matter is but crystalline Energy
(and people say Science isn't mystical)
God, Tao, Zen, Allah, YHWH,
Brahman, Zeus, Jupiter, Ammon,
Mars, Ares, Týr, Horus, Kali, Mixcoatl,
Aphrodite, Athena, Venus, Minerva,
Isis, Ceres, Demeter, Freyr;
whatever you want to call
the ineffable Energies
is just fine by me,
but I maintain
the only Evil
is the intent
to misuse
that Cosmic Energy,
whence all was given rise,
and thereto all shall return,
for, truly, it never left
that Divine state;
that supple,
ephemeral,
dreamlike
Being-ness.
Hello.
Welcome back to Now:
Carpe diem.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
he’s addicted to the high
from egotistical joy rides. he revels
in self pride, arrogance apparent in
his stride. but his confident exterior
is built from narcissistic lies. he can’t handle
hearing “no”- rejection leaves him mortified.
this is not the first time
he's come to me cock-eyed.
he asks for my consent, politely i deny.
he refuses to listen, preparing to defy.
my fear becomes palpable-
his desire
fortifies.
“no, no, no!” yet his hands
are on my thighs. “we have to tonight.”
his words cut like a knife.
i don’t understand why
i’m forced to comply. (this is my body,
don’t i get to decide?)
my bones calcify, my heart’s
a ship that’s capsized
i’ve been dehumanized and
yet i'm forced to act alive.
i look in the mirror
and let out a long sigh-
is it his soul or mine
that’s been demonized?
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 12:06 PM UTC
To and fro I travel
Yet I find no place to rest
My heart is but a shadow
Darkness with a breath
Home is but a memory
As I lay upon hard ground
And dream of ancient glories
When I was once renowned
Now I am forgotten
Demonized by lore
Cast into a hell dimension
Just beyond life's door...
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 9:37 AM UTC
The First Apostle
Did you know your calling?
When He first met you
Demonized-Prostitute
Transformed by His healing hand
Your love-turned passion
Inseparably bound to his being
Scorned for your lavish yearning
Prophetically anointing perfume-blood
Head to hands to dusty broken feet
Your walk with Him closer to death
The rugged weight of dry wood
Heavy heart anointed in knowing tears
You stood by his side-abandoned
By pharisaical disciples cowards call
His love grafted into bone and sinew
The empty mocking tomb
Like your barren heart
Devoid-all you lived for
Rudely taken away
Then He touches you again
With glorious anointing
Head to heart to weary feet
With apostolic "Go-Tell" command
Demonized-Prostitute
Apostle-Evangelist
Stanley Arumugam
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 2:55 PM UTC
I am the outlier
Feather wearer
Tired child of
The trial of tears
The back lashed
For being black
Brother of the
Burning Japanese
At Nagasaki
Open minded
And empathetic
The broken hearted
Lesbian, bisexual
Trans, homosexual
Dejected, rejected
And denied
Basic human rights
I am the immigrant
Who went
Through hell
To get here
To be demonized
I am flesh of your flesh
Blood of your blood
Lonely and struggling
Begging for mercy
And a little human decency
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 8:15 AM UTC
So I'm looking at my city
In pity
Being lured by these celebrities
That don't give a **** bout thee
They only doing it
Because they were told
Them challenges growing old
I challenge them to put up a real price
But if they did it'll cost them their life
So back up unto my bayonet knife
You fools so trife
Thinking you got me fool
But your merely a tool
Them secret societies
Gotta keep eying thee
Cuz you'll never bite the hands
That feeds
Say it's from the heart
But behind closed doors Its really greed
Since we can't seem to stop the corruption
Know that hurricane Harvey was planned for abruption
Out the blue gas prices blew
At the time of a crisis
Now I bet they'll somehow
Link it to Isis
From the megachurch
To the where the hobos lurk
It was a disaster
But tell how they became sword masters
Words that is magic being done
And nobody seems stunned
Its all a game and we the pieces on the chess board
Controlled weather
To bring us together
Millions of homes damages
Only to find out
You got no flood insurance
Another way to pay
a tax
Willfully without a say
Then they say
The american peeps wanted it that way
And who are these people's
They them the ones who control
The spoils of the earth
Who put you in debt before your natural birth
Cursed a demonized monetized
Right before your eyes
Hopefully you'll realize
They visualize your capital lives
Wake up and read in between the lines
Because our souls are on the dotted lines
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 11:53 PM UTC
a scratching modest,
not demanding or shrill,
the need is not great
but persistent,
the urge asks politely
for satisfaction.
if you would be so kind sir,
perhaps my dear,
you could find it within you to,
accommodate a humble request.
write us a poem about nothing,
this bequest,
about this or that,
need not be rant nor praise,
observe, distinguish, or separate,
let It be about nothing much at all.
let a modest whimsy bring rhyming smiling
to many a lip, perhaps a tear or two
would not be out of place,
to keep the inner ear of the soul
straight on the line that demarcates
sanity and sobriety, from the madness of daily life.
couplets and stanzas, irregular, no matter,
iambic pentameter, overkill, too much bother,
perfect simple limericks for a kind hearted fella
would be most satisfactory
-----
Cute but pointless.
No, insufficient, a poem deserves its own import.
So here is the truth,
Here is a sanctified poem
About something!
~~~~
I got friends in this place who deserve better.
They deserve a poem that says:
We are all broken, demonized.
The edge is always near,
But never having laid eyes on you,
You have trusted me with thy struggle,
And I, with hints of mine.
So here is
The Poem,
a
Medal of Honor
I award to us.
A poem about the only four letter word that really matters,
A thousand times more powerful than mere love,
I award to us for bravery conspicuous,
For telling the truth, the hard way,
In words that reveal the persons we are when unmasked,
I award us the
**Medal of
Kind.**
And someday when our hands shake, hard hugs exchanged
And our smiles won't stop
Than I will say unashamedly,
****** I love you...
My men,
My women
My friends,
My comrades
You know who you are.
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
I wonder if I have demonized you so much
Because what you did was so immoral-
So wrong, unholy.
Was it because I want to **** myself
For opening the space inside my lungs,
The space inside my heart?
I could forgive you,
But we are ******
And I'm not in the business
Of pardoning sins.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 3:52 AM UTC
Is there a failure in me
To control unsanctioned energies
Energies that are demonized
Yet as such energies I have given free rein to
That seems to bring prolonged misfortunes
Of unjust encounters with an obedient stream
That leaves one to bear the extremity of dire mishap
Of unradical transformations that mount strenuous protests
And hover like that of an appalling malady cast upon themselves
In grotesque confusion causing scenes of tormenting fear
Present me before Cerberus a position for me that is
At once pleasurable and disturbing
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 2:55 PM UTC
The heavy smoke of war lay across the world it was laced with carnage and had the sounds of screaming
Shells and the screams of the dying men but as it continued its drift at the far edges a cloud and mist
Began to diminish the former and distil a brighter future there was the timid glory sounding the
Harking tribute of childlike memories the power of innocence to diffuse the base and inhumane
To spill across these scathing pages an ethereal presence that was empowering of good that
Could and did straddle time and space with magnificence drawing from exploration and history
That beheld the worst but mined the hidden gold to enrich the world it knew secrets that
Exposed the damnable lies that bankrupted former empires we were created to be conquers
Our mettle is an amalgamation of weak flesh but inherit in the confused and reciprocating
Action ultimately a flash of inspiration leaps from the spirit the dead end near sighted flesh was
At the wall of limitation now we stand at the zenith of the universe at its ever increasing of it
Self this inestimable spring of well being floods the low plains we ford these rich waters
Immediately our impoverished cares taste and smell the high and great call of hope we
Instinctively open our heart and mind as a great sail we find our self in the envious position as a
Seafarer our very sinew is awakened to promise and opportunity we have left far behind the
Naysayers we see gifts of beauty spread everywhere where all before was drear now victory is
Courting us to rise to even higher heights boldness infuses our demeanor we now throw off
Yesterdays doubting with eyes that are no longer dim we see with clearest vision and with
Steeled determination former days of being wistful vagabonds is forever forfeited we have the
Right and the might that Lincoln addressed his generation we align ourselves with the high
Ideals of past warriors and martyrs know this our enemies whatever your culture or ideals you
Have come among a stalwart people and the foundations of our forefathers will defeat you the
Same as others who came with inferior and demonized religions know this truth will and has
Made us free look well to yourselves continue and your destruction is guaranteed check the
Harbinger winds and save your selves from the only outcome that will befall you which is
Destruction
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
Lovely skies
Dark with clouds and rain
Leaden skies
Lead, Pb, Plumbum
Flat diffuse light, photographer's dream
Latin 4 lead = plumbum
We plumb our psychic oceans' depths, as the sailors did
With lead on their sinker lines
We plumb our depths if we choose
When we are earnestly explorative
Reflecting, meditating, in our psychic plumbing
Pb: the ugly duckling brother of glowing gold
Au of the aura Aurum
Both are soft, malleable, unassailable, & so helpful
Gold like Thor the glowing hero, lead like Vulcan the sooty artificer
We have made one the hero, and misused,
Demonized, besmirched the metal lead
Is it lead's fault we have put it in our paint, our gas?
That we made it accumulate in our fish, like fools?
Without lead, your car would not start
Imagine going on your trips on a mule
Or trundling down the road in an ox cart
Do not denounce lovely lead
Gravid, protector, quiet engine starter
Gently available to you to plumb your depths
Before your chapter's demise
Leaden skies
Lovely skies
Gravid with rain
Keep me grounded, serene and sane
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 2:52 PM UTC
---Sunil Sharma
Here she eyes
the poet and the photographer
hiding in the bush
or lurking somewhere
or, maybe behind
a glass-window shut
like a typical ******
pointed ears pricked up
eyes glittering but not cold
as depicted in a horror tale
the bushy tail---fan and broom
to clear the muck around
the long snout primed up
for unusual smells
especially---
of two-legged threats
the lady fox
much demonized
in the human world
free in the wilds
like a bird
ready for the ramp-walk
in the jungle,
her---daily theater!
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 1:38 AM UTC
And for that second when your genes mashed up, that boy was blank
A clean canvas, a selfless portrait, a plane with no industry, who he was for eternity.
Revolutions from within me burst like a bipolar hormonal abomination
Of catastrophic cacophony and discorded anguish, sunlit by the good times
And slightly obscured through tired, teary eyes...
All to be swallowed back into the abysmal sinful cesspool of simple
Cyclical cynical shriveled up and seemingly plentiful
EMPTINESS, where I'm inevitably spit.
Dreaming? Floating in sarcasm, feigning a figure
Shivering with the bonechill that is the outside world
Can't quite remember the last time I woke up or why
Everything is a bit too bright for me to focus correctly...
A bit jittery, a bit sluggish, all suspicious, subtly vicious
Listless and without bliss and sunkissed and unmissed
****** off and ****** no goals, don't even have an interest
These troubling times are demonized, where's the exorcist?
Soft ripples in the air bless my ears with wet lips
The pulse setting hammers me into the ground in steaming silence
Some people go their whole lives without ever hearing the call
Hedonism and nihilism are more attractive to us all.
Dust devils spinning in an empty chest cavity
Throwing themselves over mountains in shame
Whisper in harmony to me to be nobody
Go through my life without playing the game...
Pick through these bones, you'll find grey hair and utility bills
Whether you live in South Central or Beverly Hills
You're beginning to see that we're all alone and desperate
Searching for that person we can stare in the eyes and say,
"I'm just like you. You are a part of me. I want to **** you. I want you to be me.
I love you, I need you, and if you dare go, I will bleed myself blue."
I want to shed every wall, I want to quit hiding behind words
Let the arrows rain and shadows lift to confine me in this verse.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
I'm Austin
I play guitar
I sing too
Music and melodies
Make the world spin
I **** at poetry......
Cactus
Hey I'm Austin! Bassist for a band called Demonized Angels. Two of our members have personal accounts you may know them as <Andy> and <Jinxx> They're cool dudes go check them out. xD I'm a loser peace out
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 9:58 PM UTC
As militant Mullahs mutter and pray
And plan their Mosque near ground Zero
Protesters march and people say:
“This isn't right! They'll have to go.”
But let's demur and make no noise
No tears, no threats, no signs approve.
It would profane our civic faith
To tell the Mullah he must move.
The Towers’ fall brought harm and fear
Men reckon what that did and meant;
But building a “cultural Center” near
Though demonized, is innocent.
Dull couch potatoes of the Right
Those ditto heads who can't admit
Tolerance, cause it doth reprove
Those thoughts that have them in a snit.
But we, my love, are so refined
that we ourselves don't care one whit.
Let them build it, come what may
But build a brothel next to it.
Two buildings place there, cheek to cheek:
the Mosque and “Annie’s House of Pain”.
One dealing with things spiritual,
The other deals with things profane.
In both, salvation is for sale
It seems to me a perfect fit.
For do not both invoke God's name?
-and both, I fear, use whips a bit.
students at the Madrasah may
hear the cries of Joy next door
on her mattress, hard at play
While they use prayer mats on the floor.
.
Will they too prove as tolerant?
Live and let live, for now- they say
When they enforce Sharia law,
The folks next door will learn to pray.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 8:54 PM UTC
You are so much more
invested in
domesticated
or non-domesticated
furry friends
then Syrian refugees
who look more
like you and me.
You are so much more
invested in
a piece of multi-colored cloth
that ***** in the wind
a symbol
of an idea
that has not been
fulfilled
then the victims of
drone bombings.
You are so much more
invested in
a barely ancient book
then women’s rights.
You are so much more
invested in
police authority
then those oppressed
for centuries,
those brutalized
incarcerated,
demonized,
enslaved,
and murdered.
You are so much more
invested in
sports and reality shows
then education
and the pursuit of truth.
And here is what
your investments
netted you
apathy, violence,
greed, destruction,
pain, suffering
terror, and the dividends
are still pouring in.
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 1:03 PM UTC
watching the pain dry
*you did not mistake -
no word play, not the product
of typo or errant
clenched eyes
labored writ,
the liver is failing,
the interval organs
a joint co-production
contribution,
the words demonized,
but truth cannot be
plausibly denied
all cast members
are rehearsing
preparing the last act,
interrupting with
exceptional,
expectorating refusals,
objections,*
too
*this n'that
*all their "too's"
are double O'd,
double ****** negatives
an overflow
bloodletting,
excessive overwriting
the playwright words,
maudlin can't be spoke in the present
of his
presence
revolutionary overridden by the
actors,
the words too hard,
to speak sob as long as I am
almost stilled but still
in the room
-*wrenching a bemused grin
guiding them & pain to a higher purpose,
admonish them with pleasured pleases
needs saying
as it writ and
carrying the denouement
to a rightful conclusion
as*
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
And the night was the way it was
There was a heat but it was not unbearable
Hemingway sipped on his ***
As the Buk made his way with the beer
And Woolf eyed the passing river stream
There once was a dream that ended not in death
But only with the sight of a Christmas wreath
Snow fell upon the ground like the ash of dead men
And war pillaged the Earth like the pecking of farm hens
Where there is misery
There is desire for honesty
The rules of life change
When the bullets begin to fire
The mire has broken
There are faceless soldiers being
Ordered by nameless generals
The future is the present
And the present is at your doorstep
Walking through history
Seeing the horn-blowers with their faces
Painted with the screams of the lost
I remember by childhood
The vast plains concrete
And economical disaster on
Every front the pupil could encompass
Can there be only questions in life?
Where are these desired answers?
Are there friends on the other side of hill,
Or will life be only filled with the presence of enemies?
Am I my own nightmare?
Are questions
Only
A path to uncertainty?
The train leaves to pass a levee
With sights
That only grandmother
Would be able
To articulate
She cries as if
Death is her husband
And all her sons
Have abandoned her
For other women
Dylan is almost dead
I weep for the poet's dream
Seeing that the buttons
Never matched up to the seams
On the horizon the lines of clouds
Reflect the madness of the crowd
Born, constructed, and organized
There is no reason why
Man should not be demonized
Tell tale signs of the witch hunt are here
Can't you see that repentance has passed and not near
The horn-blowers, they cry for Joan
The cross burning
They seek another who unknowingly
Waits for their wheel to turn
Time ticks on
I love the sound of my
Gravel ridden voice
Mystery mends its wounds
As the caverns of humanity
Ensure that
Their will be a place for their eternity
Where is God now?
Where did he drunkenly wonder off to?
Why are there so many of us
With only ourselves?
I smell the scent
Of sweet and stale blood
The beginnings and the ends
Of a revolution
There is no spanish war
Anymore
There are no Germans
To fight
The Middle east has collapsed
In on itself
There is only us
And
The night
Jun 25, 2012
Jun 25, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
Is this what it's like to be a poet?
To taste every goodbye, to feel every moment?
To feel every detail, to see every flaw?
To kiss every star as the night starts to fall
To fall in love with the way the sunsets
To dream of the birds from dusk to dawn
Is this what it's like to be a painter?
To find it captivating the way the earth moves
Mesmerized by your very own torment
Never caring if anyone else approves
Ingenious, stamped across your forehead
Is this what it's like to be an artist?
To find beauty in the pain that transcends
From the demonized garden growing within?
To find something alluring in the way
People walk away
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC