"fetishize" poems
Each
Day
I
Pray
To slay
My depression.
Never been a quitter,
But I’d like to quit this obsession.
This obsession with my sadness.
And with my social status.
It’s like I fetishize the madness
Endlessly raging
Inside of my soul.
And I swear I don’t have
A place to just go
And lay low
For a while.
A place where I don’t
Have
To
Fake
A
Smile.
Nov 18, 2019
Nov 18, 2019 at 10:41 PM UTC
No, I’d rather not have a foursome,
I don’t think you’re onto a winner.
If I wished to disappoint several people at once,
I’d take my family out to dinner.
No, I’d rather not have a foursome,
The thought of it makes me quite ill!
Besides the new season of Bake Off is on -
Give me Netflix but not the chill.
No, I’d rather not have a foursome.
It’s not really my cup of tea,
Like Boy George I kinda prefer that to ***
I’m mostly asexual you see?
No, I’d rather not have a foursome.
It’s the government’s fault, I’d say,
The Tories have ******* us multiple times;
I’ve been ******* over enough today
No, I’d rather not have a foursome.
Today, mate, you’re just not in luck,
Like spoons I only have so much to give,
And I gave away my last ****
No, I’d rather not have a foursome,
With you and two other “bi chicks”,
My sexuality isn’t yours to fetishize,
And you [insert name] are a ****
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
>Want a thing? Relax
>into a script to get a taste.
>Fetishes? or repressed natural inclination?
>Roll a D20 to feel better, take fun and make it killing,
>with just enough free will to make it interesting.
>Nothing else can become reality so in the universe we got
>in the cosmic lottery, calm down
>and have fun.
>Find the most effective deformation — BAM BAM
>SHOOT EM UP — and life is real. Over the top?
>Or so aware that art is less than or equal
>to life, so why settle for realism?
>Say something the way that no one else can say
>it. Maintain a state
>of relaxation by white knuckling your partner until you forget to breathe.
>Fetishize white men not being racists.
>Lay it all out for your audience
>whose uneducation cries out to be fixed
>by you
>and you alone.
>Reassure them
>you get it:
>art is hard,
>so I’m going
>to speak my subtext
>and spice things up
>with some choreography
>just to make sure
>you get what it is
>exactly
>that I’m trying
>to say,
>because god knows you wouldn’t get it otherwise.
>(And this way, people will finally understand you, and you will be complete, and you will be satisfied, and you will get everything you ever wanted, and you will ride fulfilled into the bright new day of artistic enlightenment you lucky sonuvabitch.)
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 8:39 PM UTC
So yeah,
Maybe she does like calling guys daddy
But not for the reason you may think
Maybe it’s because she’s looking for fatherly love
Because she could never quite find it in the places she was supposed to
So instead she was left to wander
Through the constant murmurs of
“You must have daddy issues”
“Your dad left? You must have a daddy fetish”
“I’ll be your daddy”
Because people would rather fetishize an emotional trauma than
Acknowledge the pain
Maybe all she knows is unkempt promises
Because the only time her “daddy” came close to actually being one
Was whenever he kissed her on the forehead goodbye
Promising to play with her later
Look at her drawing later
Read her a bedtime story another night
And walked out the door
Maybe all she knows is love through screaming
I love you
I hate you
I love you
I hate you
Maybe all she knows is purple, blue, green, red and yellow are the colors of tender love and care
Why else would they show up on whoever her “daddy” touched
Psychologists say that it’s not uncommon to marry someone that is similar to one of your parents
But what happens when all she’s known from her “daddy” is neglect
Because her dad would rather choose being with a new family than the one that taught him how NOT to be a dad
Because her “daddy” would rather say “talk to your mom about this”
Than listen to his own flesh and blood’s worries himself
Because her “daddy” would rather come in and out of her life when it’s convenient for him
So now
She’s left
To sit alone at the end of the day to think that
Maybe if she had just been a “good girl”
And behaved,
If she had just listened to her “daddy”
Maybe she wouldn’t have to look for one
In other men
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 11:15 PM UTC
1, 2, 3, 4
What are women fighting for?
My father doesn't know-
about my past.
As the **** culture comments
slip from his tongue-
I mourn for the women
who experience the same.
Because every time
it is a knife upon my spine
chipping away at my backbone.
Some days,
it hurts to stand up straight.
5, 6, 7, 8-
Women need to procreate!
We tell women
their legs are an entry way
men can use at will.
But then they urge us to keep the seed
growing inside of us-
when sometimes it is just a ****
coming to the surface
because of an invasion
of our own garden
the one we spent
so much time growing.
In the case we let it flourish
into a flower, even though we don't
have the proper nutrients
all of those mouths
that told us to water it
are now dry and absent.
They don't return
so we are the ones who become withered..
Once,
a man who thought we was more
medicine than overdose
took away a child
that could of been my sibling.
And ever since-
my mother feels the withdrawal.
7, 8, 9, 10-
Will **** culture ever end?
Not when there's a vulture
among the white house
now painted blood red,
Caucasian white,
and bruised ego blue.
When the words
are noosing their way
around our necks-
we must give misogyny a kiss of death.
When some "feminists"
spew misandry from the pores
remind them to exfoliate
the hatred from their vocal chords.
Remind them to
look up the definition of feminism.
We can't forget-
about the boy who was forced
by his cousin and stayed silent
because "men can't get *****
right?
We can't forget-
about the women of color
who fight harder than most
because their skin
gives them the greater war.
When this America
is etched with white supremacy
Don't let them fetishize
or demoralize our sisters.
We stand together.
Don't let these instances
slip through your fingers.
Grab them by the throat
and remind yourself
of when they made
you lose your voice.
1, 2, 3, 4
What are the people fighting for?
******* Equality.
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 10:21 AM UTC
Your words grow heavy
the sparser they become, and
slippery as well.
I'm wandering still,
looking for a pain that feels
closer to the "soul".
I'm desperate now,
I can taste his sweat on you
but I say nothing.
Everyone's alone,
but it's a human concept
to be so lonely.
Everyone's dying
without any dignity,
soulless and divine.
Everyone's silent
under the deafening sound
of thought in practice.
Everyone's losing,
and we've only learned how to
fetishize the pain.
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 9:40 PM UTC
Let me lick your cinnamon freckles
and map them with my tongue.
If I could strip you of your body
I'd leave this feature, just this one.
Perhaps that might sound creepy,
I fetishize your spots.
But dear oh dear forgive me
I could gobble them right up.
If poetry must be pretty
I will take this moment to compare
them to stars, grains of sand- whatever
sends the shiver back up your spine.
But these thoughts are not pretty
they are hungry
and your skin makes my mind
S A L I V A T E.
Aug 31, 2020
Aug 31, 2020 at 6:21 AM UTC
I am using them;
Their bodies constellations,
to fill my own void.
Exploring them, I
might find something nostalgic,
even romantic
to fetishize or
mutilate haphazardly.
Accidentally.
******* problem solved;
Fill in your holes with nothing,
to slow the bleeding.
Bleed from the mouth as
you kiss their own deep red lips.
Hold hands as you ****
Mercy, mercy, I
pray for something to stop me
as I go deeper.
I empty my own
empty self into their voids,
as they place their stars
in my otherwise
empty skies, begging, begging
begging for fresh light.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 12:51 AM UTC
Cosmic tool
never stop looking
for newfangled science
procrastinate in a future scene
“Lets be honest…”
ill-mannered to speak
of perfection
in a body so busy
w/ hypocrisy
My pain ain’t yr pain
don’t think I understand you
don’t think I ain’t care
don’t think you overstand me
I ain’t believe in victims
of society on account-a
i ain’t no perpetrator
It’s not wise to wage war
on preferences
and
dogma look silly when
you’re 25 or older
Sad to hear pragmatist
is now
the face you wear
when you have no foundation
yr mouth could talk an endless mile
of rhetorical obfuscation
Gimme change for yr hope
…O child hope is but a dream
-Life’s sure a joke heh?
-O it’s just a scream!
We need divide
like the dope need a junkie-vein
blood rush concrete monkey brain
Who can we blame?
Cure the myths
and **** the idols
Don’t commoditize the truth
or fetishize our differences
No-one owns the past
No-one owns the future
W/ all the guns in Chicago
we could be free (for) tomorrow
but with all the language
in our words
we could free our heads
and make enemies
into neighbors
like Grown-Ups do
Cosmic tool
never take nothing serious
play the fool
while the world is delirious
Get-a laugh
out-a the hootin’ and the holler-in’
Such divine comedy make a man spoiled.
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 4:11 PM UTC
She is the edge of the unknown,
unfamiliar female form
fitting in a small wooden chair
one table over and four down there.
Soft shadows slightly obscure
her beautiful features.
So, I am unable to ascertain
the precise color of her hair
or her age.
Small glass chalice of liquid
in her hand as she sits
silently sipping, and listening
with just the hint of a smile
curving her pink lips.
She holds her head at a safe angle,
pale white arms steadying her
small round features.
Then her hand shifts
to cover her small mouth,
a mystery in contemplation.
We all fetishize a mystery,
fantasizing about what we
are unable to see,
but once known it is discarded so easily.
Still, I desire to meet her
before the glow of fascination fades.
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 1:51 PM UTC