"digust" poems
Eight-
In a general store,
the middle of nowhere.
I stared at toys,
oblivious to the stranger too close.
A hand on my backside,
a rub and squeeze.
The cops huffed,
'are you sure it wasn't an accident?'
'Is it really that important?'
Suddenly I knew shame.
Twelve-
Last day of school,
cornered in an empty classroom
by my lifelong bully.
He tore my pink shirt,
grabbed me where Trump would have.
My father helped.
Did what he could.
Told me it wasn't my fault.
But the teacher,
a male who never liked my voice,
groaned in private,
'this will ruin that poor boys life.'
But what about me?
Sixteen-
A class full of people,
feeling pretty as a rare treat.
A boy with a knife
sitting too close,
hand inching up my thigh.
A malicious smile
with a dangerous whisper,
'spread your knees.'
I never told,
It had hardly mattered before.
But that's the last time
I wore a skirt to school.
Eighteen-
The officer taking my prints
made me cringe as he lingered.
His compliments made me shudder
but I told myself I was paranoid.
Leading me to a cell
he offered me a private room
leering as he mentioned
I wouldn't feel alone.
I almost laugh now
at his offer to pay me with juice.
But a year later at the hearing
his lude claims were loud enough
for everyone to hear.
A court room full of people
heard him brag about things
he never did.
Only one person shut him down
without even a word.
Simply a glare of digust
that I was too scared to give.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 7:18 PM UTC
This is the stuff of pamphlets,
Stories books and magazines tell
(But always about people who aren't you)
About the girls who walked alone --
Drank too much --
Overpowered.
Not me.
Me -- athletic, fit.
Even feisty, some might say.
I'm not me now, though.
I'm less than a person.
I think of things that can't move --
Garbage bags, hotel pillows.
Me -- quick-witted, smart.
I think of things that can't think.
Can't breathe. I can't.
I wish I couldn't hear.
Choking on my own digust --
With who?
I am not a person.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC
2/19/2015
note: this poem reflects my political views. I don't support puerto rico's independence but i codemn the way the USA has treated it. If you're not familiar with PR's political situation or don't follow Puerto Rican centric politics you'll be lost af. Anyways this is basically the day to day life i had when i lived back in PR, and my thoughts.
I hate americans.
They ask me, especially the independentista youth,
that think they're special and especially, communist revolutionaries,
"why? after all you are a Rich Kid."
Nah, you don't understand.
coming out of the stairs of St. Johnnies with my uniform
i see them walking with their cameras and tanners
me filling up with a very real digust.
and when I sit on the metro train to
San Patricio (and what a life, when I see the drug addicts on the metro with nowhere to go and the industrial hills of Catano)
I only see my fellow puerto ricans and i am relieved.
escaping the americanness of Ashford Ave.
and when I get to Los Meadows I tell my friends,
the Rich Kids,
How is it that those sons-of-bitches
can destroy our grand isle,
with their nuclear garbage
their doctors ruining our native women
and, from their offices in the mainland, teaching us english
just to send the little country peasants of Arecibo and Juncos
to die in their wars? and then
they have the audacity
to take their things and visit our beaches?
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
My relationship with mirrors is strained.
When I look I usually see what's probably
myself. I look better, probably, than before
when I slept no more than
3 hours every night
and spluttered through life
choking on words and stumbling over
misconceptions.
Now all of that is merely a buzz
trampled by a maximum dosage of meds
that let me function in life
but make everything a bit numb.
I much prefer numbness to personal nihilism.
Other times when I look in the mirror I
don't see much of anything.
When I'm in public and
the innocent looming presence of others
threatens my mind's fragile ego,
I see them abstracted in my periphery,
their glinting knives of eyes
sparing me a passing glance
(She's just smiling politely,
but my skewed eyes glimpse
faux teeth and behind them gargled, ****** judgements. I don't judge the digust.)
and I skim over a transparency
of myself in the mirror.
Too bad I can't actually disappear.
(Or maybe I can.
But I try to stray a little farther from those thoughts.)
Sometimes I feel heartbreakingly
ugly in that mirror. Lonely. Unwanted.
Even with all those doting eyes on me.
I feel relied upon for something. To be
the one who makes them laugh. The one
who fills the silence. The one
who works hard even with setbacks.
(Do they even expect that of me? Or do I?)
When
in reality
I'm none of those things.
Not truly. Not really.
Theres always that tug of opposition in me,
that feeling of ingenuity, a touch of facade.
But I don't want them to see an ugly side.
The side that mistrusts violently,
that lies stagnant with thoughts screaming.
Clamming up in the face of oppressing quiet.
The side
that rears its head when
they look a little too close.
Maybe it's my truest self, that broken side.
I wouldn't know. There
are too many walls. I can't even break them
myself.
Or maybe I've broken them all,
but I'm blindfolded,
feeling around an abyss with my eyes
wide open,
vision obscured by skin-tight fabric.
I could just,
untie that knot behind my head,
spiral further and further down--
just to feel something else--
But it's safer in this uneasy emotion.
I dont know if I'll ever find myself in
the mirror again.
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 12:12 AM UTC
I woke from my nap
And I stretched back
And made a weird noise
And I thought
If you were here
You'd find it adorable
While every other man
Would probably
Be taken aback
And look at me
With digust or
Unappealment.
I thought about you
And how you made me feel
So special.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
*She stood in the dark
With her long raven hair
Waiting for her prey
To grab her share
Clitching teeth, as thunder roars
Her eyes now glowing, red
As the heavy rain pours
Wait...it looks inhuman
The sharp claws on her hands
A disguise or her true form
Growls, as she lands*
***Her hunger raging
Like a wildfire
The prey’s blood must quench
And putout the flaming desire
Ready to attack
Without any remorse
Her full attention on the prey, of course
She jumped in full force
To **** with one shot
Not thinking of a power
The mighty prey may have got***
*A flash of lightening
Falling in between
Both looked fierce and frightening
The darkness creeped the night
As the war went on for hours
From far far away
I was watching with my invisible powers
The deeper the night, the intense the fight
In the land of "the half beings"
Who will shed a light?*
***Since the waging fight began
None backing to retire
The prey in digust anger
****** eyes, shooting fire
Instinct took over, on the prey most
Survival is a must
Fighting darkness with any priced cost
What will unfold from this battle?
Only time will tell
Either darkness will win or the prey,
One will survive from this bombshell...***
@jobiranyc
©sim
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 5:18 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
I am stronger than open seasons in red skies that burn as
Bright as the lies you tell me,
A sorry excuse for a friend that I will never claim,
You claim that you love me , your a ******* liar,
Not a fan of your attire,
Making bonds with a ********* in your own digust and your
Taste for lust,
I can only imagine how you sleep at night,
Fighting,
The illusion that your love for me was valid,
But really not quite,
Your right! I'll never see the light,
I may not be perfect but this is way out of hand,
If you wanted to get back at me you could have dated my friends,
But your mind is that of a slow moving turtle or sloth,
I'm always two steps ahead of you when you tell me **** off,
Now , don't say I ever told anything when he cheats on you,
I can't believe I wasted years trying create a life with you,
I have my reasons for why I am the way I am,
But you lack consistency in all the attention and glam.
/
Turn on the lamp and stray from the darkness within,
I don't know why we are all striked and covered with sin,
You're losing coverage from all the peers around you and,
Trying to **** some time without a single cringe,
°°°°°pull the wool from my eyes°°°°°
°°°°°Adventurous with demise°°°°°
( No matter what you dooooo) °°°°°have to-stay in the light°°°°°
°°°°°all your life , had to fight°°°°°
°°°°°african American boy with some weaknesses°°°°
Weaknesses that will get demolished and looked after
So they won't occur again with all the good progress I've
Been making,
I've been,
Putting guards up obtaining comfort in my own surrounding,
Looking after myself is the number priority occurring.
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 2:06 PM UTC
i've been so lost
to the point
of
digust
of myself
and you
making me
so low
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC