Hide the scars,
don't let them see.
They'll call you a slut,
just as they please.

You drink Starbucks,
you take selfies.
You're a White Girl,
you see.

You're hair is red
with your Irish genes.
You are a ginger
with no soul in thee.

Your skin is colored,
your hair so dark.
You are a criminal,
that's how they see.

I really hate some of the stereotypes out there, honestly.
Maggie Emmett Nov 2014

Ginger nut crunch base
creamy Philly cheese
bitter tart lemon filling
birthday cheesecake
tongue tasty sweet when we kiss

A non-traditional taste Tanka
Ashley Swamy Aug 2014

I miss those hot Saigon nights,
Where I would sleep in the wake of your ginger tea.

Now all I am left,
Is With Dublin's rickety pier,
That provokes me to slip and slide with the rain.

And I can no longer smell your sweet ginger tea.

Random, but I love Saigon
Haunter Jul 2012

Ginger's just a spicy bitch.
You pay her no mind.

Her food stamps
speak, louder than her fake earrings.

Poorly cloaked poverty.
Cash talks, fake chains
scream stupidity.

She's livin'
White Trash Dream.

ioan pearce Feb 2010

white paloured skinfreckled facesturning pinkin sunny places blaze of red upon their headno right to be a whingerwhat if they were black, gay, dwarfs ?as well as being ginger.

Kissy Marie Oct 2014

I've always liked gingers
But I've never met a ginger I liked until you.
Your flaming hair echoes my desire.

Paul F Clayton Jul 2012

Born in nineteen thirty five
To reside at "Tick Tock park"
A whole life marred by damaged lungs
Yet, gracious was his heart

Known to his friends as Ginger
This man of arduous health
He possessed an ever-cheery smile
Wit and intellect his wealth

Passionate was he for art
Racehorses, jazz, the Goons
And chrysanthemum had more value
Than mankind racing for the moon

With his water colour paintings
He tried to leave his mark
But alas his dreams were halted
For no mercy has the dark

Of the protagonist of this ode
I shall say only this
My father was a brilliant man
Who I shall always miss

maybe marc Jul 2014

missing you missing you
i miss you

i missed you

i kinda forgot about you
but now you're online again
back down from the mountains
back down from your disappearance

missing you missing you
all over

and also i'm sorry

Alexandra Nov 2012

Did you know,
They told you
That people were made of star-dust?

You reminded them you knew the composition
Of your molecules
Your carbon sitting in your bones like blue marrow

They reminded you of lotus moths
And bioluminescence
And the horseshoe crabs you found on your birthday

Cause you're the East Coast baby
With your West Coast dreams
And she's on the TV

Your China queen.

RJ Deephouse Jun 2013

a large black and white beast lays on the floor beside me.
in this room
at this moment
no real danger is present

Thandiwe Sep 2014

‘Shadow of the day’

Play and play and release the locks of this attraction.

Sway and displace the diamond sealed in the concrete.

It shone and sparkled immense value.

Could’ve never ended and remained in your zone.

An amazing soul, rare and simply beautiful.

Replace this with thoughts known,

You pure gold, wish forces could entwine this desire not a norm.

Came packaged in a lovely form.

I viewed your sense and values and even butterflies fluttered and passed out from your flood of casual injection of euphoria.

Seems too futile…sadly the world hardly awards love.

Will it sub-side, found a real prince of note…maybe it could’ve been groomed and grown with the days.

Is it possible to remove such a being from my rooms of thought?

Will it get better or worse with time?

Hardly unreal when lips only recite our memories.

Make what’s engulfed me in your aura die,

It’s not needed, not happening again.

Why is it now…over and over again.

The stenches of my lust for you,

My longing to be in your presence.

For once, can I be blessed with  treasure like you.

Shiny and rare…beautiful and valuable.

Regrets of loving so easily has now become a punishment.

Again I need to mend the pieces,

The millions of pieces broken by heavy disappointment.

Why did those words you said colour my ears,

How can you have made me feel liked yet you saw past me.

Haven’t my feet walked this hurt before.

Seems things are too heavy…

Never golden or maybe their lame gestures have rusted my heart.

Hardly any good in the possibilities, I hate these realities.

I’m fed up with these warriors who easily pull on my heart-strings.

Where shall I rest?

Find comfort and acceptance from the evil rest.

I saw sanctuary in your eyes,

Pictured a loving soul and felt a honourale being from your touch.

Loosen my grip on what will never happen.

Too raw…yet the heart has become immune.

Now mind and energy drowns in gloom.

20years of living…still I believe in love.

Still I want to believe there’s one for me.

Understanding and equally loving.

But…sadly there’s been no luck.

Maybe, just maybe it’s my fault.

Maybe I reveal too much and have them regretting they laid eyes on me.

Her mind was surrounded by fire.
Her heart was enveloped in passion,
And her spirit was filled with desire,
But they said her soul was absent.

She spoke in rhymes and verses.
She lived with a song in her heart.
She absorbed all the daily curses.
She breathed them out in art.

Her head was engulfed in flames.
It was the way she was born,
But they filled her up with shame,
For the blaze she did adorn.

They thought her evil and strange,
Though her heart was simply pure.
They begged for her to change,
And asked if there was a cure.

There’s nothing wrong with this girl.
She is mind and heart a whole,
But there is embers in her curl,
And so they say she has no soul.

Being a natural redhead, I got bullied a lot growing up and I still do get bullied from time to time for my fiery red locks. It's kind of ridiculous, if you ask me, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. I've heard a great many things about my red hair, but the one that always gets to me (even though I joke about it from time to time) is that I have no soul. Being an artist makes me feel like I have more soul than most at times. I feel so deeply and passionately. It doesn't always get to me, but at times it does. I do have a soul... an intensely passionate one.
The Star Room Dec 2014

Tuesday night, just like every other night, a perfect night to vape.
Realizing, going against the grain is how society progresses.
All these changes leading way to these successes.
Making the past complain, questioning the new.
This weed is providing a new view, brain is set on brew, one you cant subdue.
These gingerbread cookies are fucking fantastic.

Did I just rap?

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