"models" poems
For centuries philosophers have speculated the role sleep plays in society
But it was not until the 1950s that sleep woke up in academia
And today sleep studies show what dormant minds really look like
Information about our rest we've never seen before
However, I've always understood the importance of bedtime
You see my parents taught me that sleep and love are soul mates
My mom
She's the sleeper
She loves to sleep
She cuddles up on any piece of furniture in my house and snoozes for hours
Never views a sitcom past the first commercial break when she's tired
And she's okay with that
Dad never lets her drive on road trips when night falls
Preferring his sleeping beauty tucked safely in the passenger seat
Their hands meet as she lets the stars serenade her to slumber
While he anchors his left hand on the steering wheel
Thanking his lucky stars for his real life princess
My dad
He's the snorer
He loves to snore
He roars like a lion on his love seat and naps for hours
Never views a sitcom past the second commercial break when he's tired
And he's okay with that
Mom never lets him sleep alone too long though
Keeping his nose plugged strong enough to signal for bedtime
They both stand together as he lets her guide him to slumber
While she ushers her left hand around his back
Thanking her lucky stars for her own prince charming
Now my parents call me the dreamer
And I sure do love to dream
It seems my parents are textbook role models for me
Because when you live inside a fairytale for far too long
Your reality becomes an endless stream of fantasies
Your expectations are exceptionally out of context
Strictly written for poetic lines in picture books
Never meant to be held
Never meant to be felt
Only meant for spines stuck on rosewood shelves
My parents call me the dreamer
And boy I love to dream
I believe in creating the unthinkable
And when you live inside a fairytale for far too long
Nothing is fictional
You picture a life with storybook endings
Praying the author never runs out of ink
You crown each syllable the king of the moment
Treating each page like royalty
And I've always been okay with that
So when I asked my mom when she knew she fell in love
She spoke of an instant of unadulterated emotion
She said she knew instantly
She didn't need to sleep on it
When I asked my dad when he knew he fell in love
He just smiled back at me
He must have known instantly
He didn't even speak on it
So when I ask myself when I might fall in love
I can't help but smile
Think of fairytale titles
Mile wide love notes in all shapes and styles
And a moment where my reality sets my hopes on fire
And I won't need to dream about it anymore
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
She hides her emotions
Deep in
I think her heart was broken
And its been bottled in
She has this shell around her
And a somewhat dark demeanor
But yet I see her beauty
Within her flaws you find perfection
We fell in love with no intention
And her personality humongous
Or shall I not mention
"Baby,he'll use"
"Maybe he'll change you"
"Surely he'll leave"
But they don't know I need you
They don't know what I know
They don't share what we share
She's always on the Gram
Scalping beauty from starving models
Does she not look in the mirror
Does she not see that enchantment
That beautiful black girl
With beautiful black hair
With a beautiful pearly smile
And Darling star eyes
Don't know if she gets it
But I need her
I crave her like a craze
She is the definition of
Amaze - ing
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 12:49 AM UTC
Society sells beautiful lies,
Emphasis on the beautiful,
They sell you the definition of beauty in
small pictures,
small ads,
small sizes.
Spinning the world on a string,
They've got us all fooled.
Telling teens they don't need to eat,
"Skip the food today,
be beautiful tomorrow".
Selling the idea that beauty can replace sorrows.
Society sells the idea that beauty is empowerment.
Society sells the idea that if you are beautiful,
then you could have the world on a string.
These lies lead our leaders of tomorrow into disarray.
Sell us the idea that if we are beautiful
today will be better than yesterday.
But the empty promises lead us all astray,
Abandoned on street corners begging for scraps,
because we didn't think we felt empowerment.
Society sells small,
Society sells beauty,
Society sells small.
Small models,
Small manikins,
Small sizes.
Spinning the world on a string,
Society sells the idea that the size of your waist,
defines how beautiful you are.
Society sells the idea that beauty
is empowerment.
Society sells small.
Society sells the idea that if you are not small,
you are not **empowered,
ugly,
waste of space.**
Society sells small.
Society says beauty is empowerment.
These lies lead our leaders of tomorrow into disarray,
Too many teens today are to prone to facings their problems with razor blades,
Because today was not better than yesterday.
Then tomorrow won't be either.
Society sells small,
small pictures,
small ads,
small manikins.
Society sells protruding plastic ribs,
ribs sharp enough to cut paper.
Society sells the figures of the sick and dying.
Society sells small.
Small enough to be drop dead gorgeous,
Emphasis on the drop dead,
Society sells women who are severely underfed.
Society sells women suffering from malnutrition.
Since when did this become tradition?
Since when was fragile stature empowering?
Society sells skin and bones.
Society sells so small,
women are literally dying to feel beautiful.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 12:22 AM UTC
Most schools have projects, in science classes and such.
Most of us, mastered the science of surviving in projects.
It's those at the bottom who need the most help, but cant even get proper school supplies.. where's the logic ?.
But oh, the rags to riches story is prevalent isn't it? Nope, the only rich I know is Professor Richard.
And that's not even something worth mentioning, he does more lessening than lessons lets paint the picture..
But these young kids don't understand, they try to curse them, place them in prisons, its a trap from birth..
Give them these Rick Rosses as role models, knowing they don't have fathers, instead of Tupac Shakur, showing them worth..
My bestfriend Tony once questioned his dark skin, just like i once questioned my brown.
how profound, a couple 4th graders at the time, having to prove that they were "down".
Crazy how Tony proved he was down, now i visit his site yearly on November the third.
And things aren't getting better, but nobody gives a **** haven't you heard..
The prayers our mothers chant, ritually every night.
Praying to the Sun gods, perhaps one day we'll all unite.
-afj
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 8:34 AM UTC
I met her on a narrow street of old Verona
Her beauty’s magical, her name was Lady Mona
She rolled a cigarette between her diva fingers
A little cherry smoke around her gently lingers
She had a long deep fire-coloured autumn hair
That with the wind dance as if out of very care
Her eyes are brighter, gayer then azure sapphires
Two little diamonds that can start unholy fires
Her ******* are full of life, the sweetest goddess milk
It taste like childhood memories wrapped up in silk
The skin – an undiscovered lands of sinful wild
It sends you on a trip so rough yet very mild
She was so picturesque, a genuine sugarbomb
Like rays of sun that dazzle through a naked palm
I pray thee, Jupiter, align the heaven stars
And let me be the one who strikes of her guitars
Wish I could walk to her and ask her dearly out
I feel so brave yet nervous, want to scream and shout
I want to spill it out, express my inner passion
But that’s not me behaving in such crazy fashion
Hell to the no! I go! I’ll spit my fire lines!
I am a blonde! I curse those stupid *** designs
I’ll offer things to her, I promise I’ll pushy
**** I am gonna offer her my cola *****
If men be ***** models, I shall be one too
I have one in my mouth – a nasty point of view
If men can flirt and conquer, so can ******* I
This Aphrodite’s taken, she is only mine
I walk to her, approach her like the mighty Taurus
Rehearse my lyrics, shuffle through my love thesaurus
I smell perfume – ambrosia, nectar, lemonade…
Formation, hold up, queen of… ******* Lemonade..?
“What is the name of thee, do tell me, pretty dear
Just like the beauty goddess you to me appear
By any chance you are one of the youthful Graces?
Be careful, darling, I can see your leather laces”
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
Yeah I totally love being single!
You can do what you want whenever you want without obligations or having to think about anyone else you can flirt shamelessly with as many guys as you like, there is no pressure to look good for anyone I love that I have all this me time where I can spend a Saturday night reading and listening to the music I like without trying to decode mixed signals in text messages
I never have to depend on anyone but myself.
No one is stressing me out by depending on me.
I can sit by myself on the couch home alone when everyone else is out
And feel completely isolated, unloved and unlovable
I can feel so ugly and obsess over it
I can scroll through pictures of pretty celebrities and models and girls I know online bitterly wishing I looked like them and could be like them so that maybe someone would notice me and give me a chance
I can scream at the radio for playing stupid love songs
I can eat ice cream and chocolate wondering why I am such a waste of space
Thinking of all the guys who have rejected me and dropped me over the years
Have no one to love
Or who loves me
No guy I can trust with my secrets and loyalty
No one who needs me
No one to want
Or make me feel wanted
To spend nights together
Just talking
And watching movies
Being cutesy and flirty with
Lie hand in hand with
No one I can gush about to my friends
No one I can bake for
No one I can buy stuff for, just 'cause
No one I can do random couples stuff with
No one in my life
It's pretty great.
I love being single.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
Oh **** it!
I ate a whole slice of cake,
how could I?
I'll never get to 90 lbs. this way...
When my parents go to bed,
it'll be another trip to the bathroom
to get rid of those ugly calories.
I'm never hungry anymore,
and I only eat one meal a day
(of course, only half...only fat people eat full meals)
I can already see all of my ribs,
I that's good right?
all the models look like that.
Maybe now I can fit in with the real crowd,
and I'll get a good guy.
All I have to do is get my stomach a little more flat,
lose those 3 more pounds.
Then I'll be perfect.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 10:05 PM UTC
We are the girls who walk around with little bird bones,
rib cages ready to snap when we spread our wings and
fly away
and for my next act,
I shall disappear little by little until I am ash.
I’m not eating for four days or until
I can feel the ***** that is my stomach start to shrink
I used to refuse food for weeks
it amazes me how self-indulgent I have become
I am ready to eat spoonfuls of air
spin my hair into a models top knot and
know that water is a privilege not a right
a million screaming girls saying
“but im not hungry”
while a tiger flays their insides open at night
Kate Moss said "nothing tastes as good as skinny feels"
and I suppose she is correct
What happens when you learn the tongue is a muscle not to be used
What happens when sustenance is no longer needed
When the mind decides
the very thing that keeps the body alive is a punishment
What happens when you refuse a necessity of being human
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
Haircut
Strands of hair unruly way
Hair cut an adventure of the day
Scrolling through the models on book
pictures in mind to decide the look
Hair cut an adventure of the day
Through the times in a different way
young ones cry of the barbers scissor
A grim look of teen in the mirror
every hair cut in the heart a terror
Good or bad an haircut is an adventure
pety
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
The first time I fell in love with a woman:
it was on a Saturday afternoon
a sunny day with blissful winds
I saw her walking down the street
talking to a friend, tending to a child
and carrying a water bucket on her head
she looked so fragile at that moment
but yet so strong ,
she moved like a lion, she had the weight of the whole world on her shoulders but still maintained her balance,
a goddess in every kind and form
she left me In awe not just by her beauty
but her strength, her pose and confidence
the way she moved put models to shame
her voice as serene as the oceans breeze
she had something in her that just made my deadly frown turn into a perfect smile
she made me happy, I fell deeply
As she moved closer, I could see the sweat dripping from her gracefully curved face
I noticed how each drop fell off her with a harmonious movement, she was a queen with a crown not made of the jewels of this world but those which are rare and not known to superficials
She looked deeply hurt and tormented by either her past,present or the future that is still so scared
She hides her scars with everything she got
her smile on her face to keep away the reflection of pain in her eyes
she was so badass but so soft inside
She walked past me with her head held high
she cared about no judgment but for one's peace of mind
She looked at me and we shared a smile
she spoke the silent language of admiration and pure love
and at that fateful moment I deeply fell in love with a woman
©m_e_reidow
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 5:41 PM UTC
A fashion designer has defended models who were labelled as "gaunt and unwell" on Facebook.
Andrea Moore's I AM range is sold at Farmers, and an image from its current campaign was posted on that company's Facebook page on Friday.
The picture features Chiara and Norina Gasteiger, who are twins represented by Clyne Model Management. Farmers customers did not react well to the now-deleted post.
"They so look gaunt and unwell. I'm really disappointed," Newshub says Anna Webster commented.
"You cannot look at these girls with their bones sticking out and believe that they are a good role model for a family store," Jo Austwick wrote.
"I have enough trouble with body image arguments with my daughters without these images being depicted. They do not look healthy."
Moore said the imagery had never been intended to cause offence, and that she felt for the Gasteiger twins, who have worked with the brand for three years.
"The twins are actually healthy, fun models who are busy university students... We love working with them because of their sense of self-worth and uniqueness as twins," she said.
"We have been in touch with the models and they were most upset by the whole thing. Fortunately, they have received a lot of support from their peers.
"The campaign was about preppy grunge, print with an edge. [It was not] about promoting unhealthy body types [or] anything else," Moore added.
Farmers posted the following statement on Facebook after deleting the I AM image:
"Dear valued Farmers customers! We appreciate you taking the time to send us your comments and concerns on a recent post for I AM. Please know it is not taken lightly and we in no way mean to promote an image for women in NZ to follow that could be regarded as unhealthy.
"We understand that no two bodies are the same and we always seek to show a range of body types throughout all our advertising. These images were supplied by the brand Andrea Moore as part of a wider campaign and were published by us. We will endeavour going forward to work closely with all our partners to ensure an appropriate image is portrayed.
"Thank you once again for your valued feedback."
Clyne Model Management have been approached for comment.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/one-shoulder-formal-dresses
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
Clusters of stars burst to life in your eyes.
Your heart is like Nebulus;
Orion - your mind.
You are a Constellation
Of magical sensations,
No natural explanation
Can anyone find.
Glorious spectacle.
Worthy and respectable.
Very unpredictable;
A Constellation sublime.
Fireworks are boring.
I'd rather be adoring
The beauty of your glory.
A vision in the sky.
Suspended over mortals.
No entry through your portals.
No duplicated models.
You're one of a kind.
You are a Constellation.
A memorable elation.
You'll have my admiration
Until the day I die.
Jan 26, 2011
Jan 26, 2011 at 9:19 AM UTC
Where are the role models?
Who do I admire?
The *** and drug obsessed rapper?
The naked model in the magazine?
Who?
Where is the father figure in that single mother home?
Or the concerned and responsible mother of two?
Where is the morals in society?
Tell me
Where can I find them?
Everyone seems absorbed by popularity
Acceptance
Is this the reason we expose our bodies?
Disregard our morals?
Sully our name?
Where are the role models?
The positive influence?
The man holding the door for the young lady?
The mother struggling to put her children through college?
I'm in despair
Will I succumb to the warped society?
Will I trade my personal respect,
for a robe knitted of shameful glory?
I'm afraid
Where did all the good people go?
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
accept your personality
except when you dont meet the criteria
accept your body
except if it doesnt look like the photoshopped models
accept your clothing style
except if it doesnt fit into the listed categories
accept your weight
except if its not in the doctors average range chart
accept your loss
except if it starts to bring others down too
accept yourself
except if you dont then i will
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
Home is where the heart is but the heart is a broken place.
I hate
how loud I must barely scream so that people can see my face:
I am dark
and this is a time of shadows.
Sometimes what worries me most about us
is not that we are forced to carry guns and **** our own mothers
is not that we are pulled from our classrooms back into our homesteads
is not that some of our leaders feast while we become skinny UNICEF models
is not that if only one molecule of my DNA was different I could have lived without ever knowing how to read even a single word
is not even that the smallest of things can wipe out entire villages in an instant-
mosquitoes, viruses, locusts; slave ships.
Sometimes what worries me most is that
my headphones carry more sounds of strange places
than my heart will ever know- that not even my brothers and sisters
sold off to those strange places ever knew, as their children are hung off
the trees of Jim Crow and we call them strange fruit, and that
maybe our first president didn't marry a white lady; the white lady might have married him.
Sometimes what worries me most is that for just over eighteen years
of seeing thinking feeling breathing being I couldn't
have ever told you what Africa meant to me past the occasional 'dumela'
to my mother's mother but never, never did I know or now know or will know my mother's mother's mother's mother's mother
because
she can't fit inside the cellular America that I hold in my palm.
And this is why they call us lost.
Because home is where the heart is but the heart is a broken place.
One time, my five year old cousin said matter-of-factly
that black is ugly. In my Primary School days
everyone said I should stay out of the sun lest I get darker.
But
I'm here to tell you that I don't even bother wearing a sun-hat anymore.
I'm here to tell you that I don't cut my hair because to do so would feel like oppression.
I'm here to tell you how vivid and lovely and blessed I do feel to have been born in broken-heart home because at least it has soul.
I'm here to tell you that, yes, I do remember
that time when the whole world knew what to do about ****** and Bin Laden but never could get round to talking about Cecil John Rhodes.
I'm here to tell you that
Today, that conversation starts with a toppled statue.
Today, that conversation starts with my voice.
Today, this conversation starts with a poem which proclaims-
child I am, child I am, child I am, child I am, child I am-
that this is my day. This is my day.
The Day of the African Child.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 1:38 PM UTC
Pervert
I'm a womanizer and a pervert,
love to mingle, love to flirt.
Like Fonzi, all chicks flock,
they like the size of my clock.
Ever since I was born,
loved naked women and ****
Nothing like playing with my favorite toy,
with the newest edition of *******
Sorry I have a ***** little mind,
all men do, women don't be blind.
Lots of women have tried to convert me,
but a fun loving pervert, I will always be.
Been with a **** been with a *****
only difference is, the **** wants more.
Been with singers, actresses and models,
done it underwater, with a snorkel and goggles.
Been with a doctor, lawyer and a crook,
each time, I somehow got took.
I'm a pervert it a good way,
just some innocent ****** foreplay.
If you ever see me, I'm not threat,
they haven't invented x-ray glasses yet.
I now have a woman I really love,
all other women, I got rid of,
Gave my black book to a kid named Bieber,
now he's in jail and feeling very eager.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
Hell no, you don't want to be compared to one of those models idolized in magazines.
True beauty lies outside the fashion industry’s visual constructions.
Fall in love with what you never expected to love, imperfection.
Brand-less self expression.
There are no cameras or flashing lights there
or visual effects.
We come in different range of sizes.
Shame on shallow marketing.
A pretty face can have nasty vices.
Hearts of Gold, now those aren't sold.
- C.Ek
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
You!
You are imperfect!
(surprise)
You you you and you.
Every single one of you cheerleaders.
Every princess and every nerd.
All the little muscles and big muscles.
The mothers and fathers and lovers and celebrities and billionaires and actresses and models, too!
Every single human on this earth is imperfect.
But guess what?!
That's what makes us, us.
You. Me.
All of us together in one jumbo mess of oceans and ethnicities. It's beautiful and ugly and difficult and spectacular all in one breath.
So stop hating your imperfections and your "almost there" 's. We have them for a reason.
Flaunt that imperfection, babe.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 4:43 PM UTC
Everybody’s going nowhere and I am far gone
I can’t even see the ocean the motion was all wrong
Just a sea of broken bottles and cigarette models
On the floor, so high I had to clean the sky
Never been an existentialist, cynic, or a pessimist
Just another body on the edge of metamorphosis
Clinging to a rope I hope will not snap
Like my neck if I hit the ground, oh crap!
I’m apocalyptic fresh and I can’t say why
If I do it’s a lie, see the needle in my eye?
Meditation, preparation, or a conscious legislation
Couldn't help the fact my words are often littered with abrasions
As if shock rock poetry could save me from my death
It could possibly enlighten but I wouldn't hold my breath
Now I’m frightened by the notion of a new world order
But anarchy is hip if you’re on this side of the border
I digress, what a mess if you know what I mean
But I've burned out quicker than gasoline…
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 10:11 PM UTC
MEMORIAL DAY May 26th, 2014
****************************************************
To all of you that have ever worn "The Uniform",
the uniform of safety and security, the uniform of pride
the uniform of freedom, the uniform of liberty
THE UNIFORM OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
**********
THANK YOU
Thank you to all, in every branch, in every time From:
The American Revolution (most of us have roots to our founders)
The Civil War (North or South)
World War I
World War II
Korea
Vietnam
Cambodia
Laos
Panama
Nicaragua
The Falkland Islands
Somalia
Yugoslavia
Bosnia
Kuwait
Iraq
Afghanistan
Pakistan
The Persian Gulf
**
areas and battlefields such as
(not all locations are listed with no dis-respect)
Lexington/Concord, Gettysburg, Pearl Harbor, Midway Island, Normandy, D-Day, Berlin, Tripoli, Iwo Jima, Okinawa, The 38th Parallel, The Bay of Tonkin, Me Lei, Hanoi, The Hanoi Hilton, Saigon, The ** Chi Minh Trail, Baghdad, Kabul, Ground Zero Manhattan, Pentagon 9/11, a field near Shanksville PA.
and many many more,
you are all heroes and role models, not for a nation, for the world, not for American Patriots, for all humanity, not only on this Memorial Day, for all days and all days to come.
You are appreciated! because freedom has high costs and you pay the price for all of us.
******************************
Godspeed, safety and peace where ever you are.
Sincerely,
Warner C. Baxter Jr.
American Patriot
Scottsdale, AZ. U.S.A.
God bless America
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
maybe I should encourage violence within conformity and seek to end impressionism or maybe NOT!- create perversions within a song split-ting hairs of the long dead being found at a youthful age washed ashore no longer breeding nor bleeding ceased of breathing to be now an exact science- scaled back models of when it was brave to be bold but hidden from news cameras for leftover caveats - I wanna go else-where and find redemption to shout **** you - desktop plants dried out from foul air and aspirin bottles ******** clad in old skin next to a banana peel- no remorse no recourse no answers for in my brain
prescribed lies conjunct with irreversible truth complexity.
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 11:44 AM UTC
There are conversations in which my mental frame leaves the
parameters of my body.
No longer can I fathom the concept of ‘being in love’
I witness dates
and
feel as an apprentice of such a trade might
an inadequacy to replicate the models of those before me
Gone are my indefinite moments of sanity
Childhood is laced in linens of silk
Soft-spoken words
and
Finely crafted spontaneity lacking responsibility
Ceaseless are the times in which I must conceal the thoughts I abhor
Depravity seems to chain my soul
which leads to
a Resolution in pixelation
due to
a visual handicap which has left my eye blind to choosing right
My friends make me happy
but as a glass transforms back-&-forth between half-empty &
half-full
one glance across our wooden dinner is all it takes
for
My thoughts to liquidate into bars of gold
Telling myself I must exchange their conversation for my motivation
heavy on the mind
light keystrokes
Once i reawaken at 1 A.M. from my conscious-coma
i ask myself
What good is it?
To be thoughtful
Yet have no action
What good is it?
To fantasize
Yet refuse your own inclination for renovation
What good is it?
To be dramatic
Yet have no one at your performance
I do understand what it means to ‘be’
Watching Tuesday suns burn in loops of ongoing weeks
- lacking peaks -
As I continue to lay under clothes line
Wrapped in a melody of melancholy
But I do not understand what it means to be ‘me’
My mind feels as a lemon candy might,
sour at first bite -
hollow on the inside, then gone
Without ever truly knowing what it tastes like.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 9:03 PM UTC
The Equalist!
RE: The guerrilla girl’s poster 5% women artists yet 85% of the models are female.
This poster was heralded as a feminist rebuff of misogyny and the male gaze.
It is my opinion: one of the reasons females are more sexualised than males in Western society; is because the majority of women working in a sexualised industry such as modelling, dancing, fashion or *********** choose to perpetuate that role and the connection between *** and femininity; often in industries where females outnumber the men six to one; I'm also aware that the majority of the hierarchy in theses industries are male, it seems their gender solidarity is more concerned with the money; than notions of ****** inequality; thus perpetuating the issue.
Vernacular test:
Step one - Question one:
I took a survey of 30 fellow artists asking what is a misandry? followed by what is your gender?
Step two - Question two:
I took a survey of 30 fellow artists asking what is a misogyny? followed by what is your gender?
I did offer any information or allow any of the subjects to see the survey paper, or overhear the question.
Results: 30 subjects took part in the survey; One female knew both words and their meaning, and one female didn't know what Misogyny was. (Two females approached refused to take part in the survey, all men approached engaged.)
Step three - Question three:
I then gave all the subjects the dictionary definition and asked why they thought the vernacular misandry is not as well known as the word misogyny?
(I should add that I too couldn't recall the vernacular meaning of: Misandry; though I could recall the meaning or definition of Misogyny.)
Answers:
Female... "I don't care"
Female... "It's due to a gender economic imbalance"
Female..."Blokes just don't like it when women speak out about it"
Female..."I don't get involved in protests"
Female..."I don't know"
Female..."Men just think with their ******
Female... "There's more misogynists"
Female... "Because men are pigs"
Female... "Why does it mater"
Female... "It's just a word"
Female... "I'm not interested"
Female..."Try being a women"
Female... " It's ******** it's just a vernacular"
Female..."You wouldn't understand your a man"
The other 5 Females... chose to offer no explanation.
Answers:
Male..."I don't know"
Male... "who cares"
Male... "Yeh that's interesting"
Male... Why does it matter"
Male... "Let me think about it"
Male... "Who gives a ****
Male... "What's this about"
Male... "Can I see the results later"
The other 2 males... Chose to offer no explanation.
I personally identify as human; and don't wish to be defined, labeled or marginalised; I also don’t believe that secularism in any measure is healthy or meaningful in an inclusive society.
I question why 29 out of 30 subjects had heard of Misogyny; and just one person had heard of Misandry.
Sexism is not as the dictionary suggested prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination, typically against women.
Everyone is effected buy prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination.
The subtleties of which is played out every day.
Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 11:32 AM UTC
I'm unwanted
I know this to be true
Because they look at me and then they look at you
I'm not the beautiful mistress they want me to be
I'm unwanted
Unwanted by society because i'm to different for them
I'm unwanted by my so called friends
they're to good for me anyway
I'm unwanted by those fashion magazines
Those perfect models aren't missing me
I remember when I was young
My parents used to tell me
Don't be smug
Don't start things you cant end
And most importantly don't lose yourself
I'm sorry mom and dad but your little girl is gone
I broke your most important rule
But to be fair to lose yourself you must find yourself first
That's as hard to find as a pure soul
In this unforgiving
unworthy world
Because i'm unwanted and I know that now...
Nov 5, 2019
Nov 5, 2019 at 9:02 PM UTC
a love poem, of new & old,
why I am the summer-man!^
summer is winding down,
sky’s multi blues freezer safe stored in ziplock see thru bags,
marked and named by hue, the where and the when,
so when the eyes finally fail, when the squinting don’t help,
when the good things those good blues aroused,
poems, lush and morning thanks for being alive come-not-at-all,
quite the opposite, these cold blues
may help, to recall why it was worth breathing
summer is winding down,
so am I, the synchrony no accident, time,
the Pharmacy kitchen calendar
claiming another victim, willing or not,
those cars and the blue eyed models,
are now but blurred wishes and hopes, even these words, spoken,
not finger scribed, for the keyboard a
jumbled jungle of alpha-numerical
of confusion hellish and
my sons don’t come to clean up my pathetic messes, sending
their little children, beloved concubines of my heart
the daytime watcher, spanglish her native lingo,
tho single words she’s pretty good at too, but that don’t help much;
the grands, toddlers to pre-teens, the eldest a womanly eight,
tries but soon frustration bored, slips away quiet like
replacing her with her two year old sister, who knows her alphabet
which ain’t an exactly a help, but her five pencils stored^ nearby,
tagged with her name, awaiting her poems, her one true legacy
try to imagine her as a grandmother, farseeing the day when she
occupied this too too hard to-get-out-of-by-myself “easy” chair,
making rhymes with her next-next generational descendants,
faint remembering the silliness sorcery that I secreted in her brain;
zingo, bingo, lingo
tango, ginkgo, jingo,
** ** oh no, oh no!
ashes, gray hairy poppy is a silly,
when he is not a grumpy,
old man all fall down!
which she acts out with giggles galore,
adding a teacup embellishment,
a creme fraiche pearly teeth smile topping,
the day watcher agrees, verrry verrry funny,
but time to me *** and take a needed morning *****
no poppy! no poppy! no poppy!
no nap, no *** no *****
thinking the call out is for her,
stomping her feet in an alternating rhythm and rhymes
I, happy poppy, ecstatics drooling out,
foreseeing the rhyme is strong in her,
get wheeled away crinkled and crackling,
*zingo, bingo, lingo
tango, ginkgo, jingo
** ** oh no, oh no!
ashes gray hairy poppy is a silly,
when he is not a grumpy,
old man all fall down!*
a new genre me of gibberish summertime love poems
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 5:11 PM UTC