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"molest" poems
~ Precious Padma You dearest aquatic flower You grew in murky waters Unblemished by its impurity But come they did *To ****** your petals* And leave you a burning stem Never can they take from you The spirit of your plainsong It continues to grow in your sisters And in a time and season so near They will sing your hymn As one substantial voice The changing winds will then Lift it higher ~
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Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 2:29 AM UTC
Lotus Song
Tongue in cheek I detest you Hand over foot Make a peep ***** And I promise I'll ****** you Bad tact I'm a cesspool Festering in the nestle of your daughter's well developing ******* Everyday I follow her home from school This unnerving pervert unearthing fervor making ya catatonic & giving your heart murmurs Nurture the thought It's just the tip (Of the iceberg) Gotta stir the paint before you make a mural Ma'am, I'll purloin your ham purse until my burial Don't be a sourpuss It's final I'm vile And I swear I'm not a ********* Want some candy?
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Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 7:23 AM UTC
Creeper
I wanna **** i flip the beans way too much to angry the farmers as they want to harvest in volume its simple i don't get laid known by my crouch work suspicious nocturnal habits she walked in blue jeans faded t, algae cap, luscious lips an energy of the easy life, had me palpitating that look as if she was made to look at me just from between my thighs 'Irregular heartbeat, you, the pass byer" i almost posted SNS about to ****** me with questions i wasn't ready to answer then she crossed my mind again had me palpitating that look as if she was made to look at me just from between my thighs
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Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
Ubuntu Girl
eyes are quite gelatine mending bubbly detail mocking  up  fact   to suit user /the ears ?  crinkled dishes of pinkened veins robbing blood to probe the gossip /digits  bud on the feed in polyp growth ****** and ****** a pepper mill from off the coffee table/tongue  leeches lips retaining massaged notes from food oils past /spatting nostrils   puncture the air punching out breath purling inhale a stressed report
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Dec 3, 2022
Dec 3, 2022 at 9:49 PM UTC
senseless
Hail, happy day, when, smiling like the morn, Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn: The northern clime beneath her genial ray, Dartmouth, congratulates thy blissful sway: Elate with hope her race no longer mourns, Each soul expands, each grateful ***** burns, While in thine hand with pleasure we behold The silken reins, and Freedom’s charms unfold. Long lost to realms beneath the northern skies She shines supreme, while hated faction dies: Soon as appear’d the Goddess long desir’d, Sick at the view, she languish’d and expir’d; Thus from the splendors of the morning light The owl in sadness seeks the caves of night. No more, America, in mournful strain Of wrongs, and grievance unredress’d complain, No longer shalt thou dread the iron chain, Which wanton Tyranny with lawless hand Had made, and with it meant t’ enslave the land. Should you, my lord, while you peruse my song, Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung, Whence flow these wishes for the common good, By feeling hearts alone best understood, I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate Was snatch’d from Afric’s fancy’d happy seat: What pangs excruciating must ****** What sorrows labour in my parent’s breast? Steel’d was that soul and by no misery mov’d That from a father seiz’d his babe belov’d: Such, such my case. And can I then but pray Others may never feel tyrannic sway? For favours past, great Sir, our thanks are due, And thee we ask thy favours to renew, Since in thy pow’r, as in thy will before, To sooth the griefs, which thou did’st once deplore. May heav’nly grace the sacred sanction give To all thy works, and thou for ever live Not only on the wings of fleeting Fame, Though praise immortal crowns the patriot’s name, But to conduct to heav’ns refulgent fane, May fiery coursers sweep th’ ethereal plain, And bear thee upwards to that blest abode, Where, like the prophet, thou shalt find thy God.
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4.6k
To The Right Honourable William, Earl Of Dartmouth, His Majesty’s Principal Secretary Of State For North-America, &c.
Hail, happy day, when, smiling like the morn, Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn: The northern clime beneath her genial ray, Dartmouth, congratulates thy blissful sway: Elate with hope her race no longer mourns, Each soul expands, each grateful ***** burns, While in thine hand with pleasure we behold The silken reins, and Freedom’s charms unfold. Long lost to realms beneath the northern skies She shines supreme, while hated faction dies: Soon as appear’d the Goddess long desir’d, Sick at the view, she languish’d and expir’d; Thus from the splendors of the morning light The owl in sadness seeks the caves of night. No more, America, in mournful strain Of wrongs, and grievance unredress’d complain, No longer shalt thou dread the iron chain, Which wanton Tyranny with lawless hand Had made, and with it meant t’ enslave the land. Should you, my lord, while you peruse my song, Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung, Whence flow these wishes for the common good, By feeling hearts alone best understood, I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate Was snatch’d from Afric’s fancy’d happy seat: What pangs excruciating must ****** What sorrows labour in my parent’s breast? Steel’d was that soul and by no misery mov’d That from a father seiz’d his babe belov’d: Such, such my case. And can I then but pray Others may never feel tyrannic sway? For favours past, great Sir, our thanks are due, And thee we ask thy favours to renew, Since in thy pow’r, as in thy will before, To sooth the griefs, which thou did’st once deplore. May heav’nly grace the sacred sanction give To all thy works, and thou for ever live Not only on the wings of fleeting Fame, Though praise immortal crowns the patriot’s name, But to conduct to heav’ns refulgent fane, May fiery coursers sweep th’ ethereal plain, And bear thee upwards to that blest abode, Where, like the prophet, thou shalt find thy God.
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43
What I want is to be a little girl who is loved           instead of abused A little girl who laughs           instead of cries in the dark because she is afraid A little girl who knows she is a princess because her daddy is the King of Kings           instead of the man who visits each night to ****** A little girl who lives with a family that is kind,           and has dinners together and plays together But that is just a dream, because that little girl is no where to be found... instead I am fighting moving forward in my healing because I just want to go back and change all the ugly memories I have. To make things right.                                      But I can't...and it hurts!!!!!!!
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Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
Instead
Sea serpents still smash ships In the dark seas of my subconscious, Devilish legends roam Giggling, chainsaw wielding Masked maniacs are at home Hunting and being hunted By whip wielding antiheroes With black leather biker outfits, with the right sleeve missing The theater of my Id charges a penny admission Sold my soul for a remote control My mind ruled by visual opiates Of violence and flesh Creative outlets come In sporadic outbursts That ****** your imagination, What some men call horror I call liberation.
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Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 7:21 AM UTC
Liberation
**The Australian Thirteens (Black)** Your mummy took a beating Your daddy's drinking beer Your brother's lost his eyesight Your sister's disappeared The thirteens. Right on Your cousin’s sniffing petrol Your Uncle's in the cells Your buddy's begging money To spend in the hotel The thirteens. Right on And you, you make me shameful To see the state you're in I tell you live like we do But all you do is grin at The thirteens. Right on. **The Australian Thirteens (White)** Your mother’s hooked on botox Your daddy’s with the guys Your sister's anorexic She fades before your eyes The Thirteens. Right on Your daughter is a ****** Your son beats queers for fun Your priests ****** your children And you just move them on The Thirteens. Right on. You living in that city And buying all that stuff And still you look unhappy Cos you'll never have enough No The thirteens. Right on.
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Nov 23, 2011
Nov 23, 2011 at 5:02 AM UTC
The Australian Thirteens (after Maya Angelou)
The clouds race golden As be chariots The sun is born Like the deviants As gusts of wind ****** the thoughts Underdressed The chest it coughs While Major Clank On wheels and stub Bellows out and Rubs the nub Then by runes the best made plans Test the dikes And angst of dams The age of truth The youth desired Across the space without the wires The universe comes In a box Neatly packed Shelved , detoxed And all because Annointed by rain The blue sky morning Clouds it's pain
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Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 8:29 AM UTC
Blue sky morning after rain
Pure spirit! O where art thou now! O whisper to my soul! O let some soothing thought of thee, The bitter grief control! 'Tis not for thee the tears I shed, Thy sufferings now are o'er; The sea is calm, the tempest past, On that eternal shore. No more the storms that wrecked thy peace Shall tear that gentle breast; Nor Summer's rage, nor Winter's cold, Thy poor, poor frame ****** Thy peace is sealed, thy rest is sure, My sorrows are to come; Awhile I weep and linger here, Then follow to the tomb. And is the awful veil withdrawn, That shrouds from mortal eyes, In deep impenetrable gloom, The secrets of the skies? O, in some dream of visioned bliss, Some trance of rapture, show Where, on the ***** of thy God, Thou rest'st from human woe! Thence may thy pure devotion's flame On me, on me descend; To me thy strong aspiring hopes, They faith, thy fervours lend. Let these my lonely path illume, And teach my weakened mind To welcome all that's left of good, To all that's lost resigned. Farewell! With honour, peace, and love, Be thy dear memory blest! Thou hast no tears for me to shed, When I too am at rest.
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2.1k
Dirge
How sweet to be thus nestling deep in boughs, Upon an ashen stoven pillowing me; Faintly are heard the ploughmen at their ploughs, But not an eye can find its way to see. The sunbeams scarce ****** me with a smile, So thick the leafy armies gather round; And where they do, the breeze blows cool the while, Their leafy shadows dancing on the ground. Full many a flower, too, wishing to be seen, Perks up its head the hiding grass between.— In mid-wood silence, thus, how sweet to be; Where all the noises, that on peace intrude, Come from the chittering cricket, bird, and bee, Whose songs have charms to sweeten solitude.
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2k
In Hilly-Wood
A destructive cuckoo in the nest trouble causing what he do best he’ll put your patience to the test with one eye open he like to rest Loves being an annoying pest mischief chasing with zest I’d like to cough him of my chest My temper he play with and ****** I held him longer on my breast my favourite, my maternal lust my confession hidden in his dust Love so explosive, I could burst
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Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 5:33 AM UTC
Cuckoo
sickened by media lies legislative disguise rotting food attracting flies beguiled by trite examples limited poling and internet trolling expressionless selfie apathy as fashion androgynous culture manly men are maligned while supermodels ****** minds warped youths scramble attempting to grasp beauty through surgery and consumerism their tiny orange bodies reflect social illness its glare blinding bound to the taxation system pre-social security number these zombie babies march to Red Bull FOX news and social media ************ fluoridated and infected they reject ideas not rooted in technology …mock astrology believe in genetically altering living organisms biology practice unlicensed psychology and pharmacology all the while supporting underground government demonology …….. my apology lost in this madness I feel trapped and isolated and the irony hits flattening my preconceptions “As part of, I am responsible for…” …..darkness and pain crash on aging shoulders realization and defeat
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Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
another Tuesday morning
Once the Emperor Charles of Spain, With his swarthy, grave commanders, I forget in what campaign, Long besieged, in mud and rain, Some old frontier town of Flanders. Up and down the dreary camp, In great boots of Spanish leather, Striding with a measured ***** These Hidalgos, dull and damp, Cursed the Frenchmen, cursed the weather. Thus as to and fro they went, Over upland and through hollow, Giving their impatience vent, Perched upon the Emperor’s tent, In her nest, they spied a swallow. Yes, it was a swallow’s nest, Built of clay and hair of horses, Mane, or tail, or dragoon’s crest, Found on hedge-rows east and west, After skirmish of the forces. Then an old Hidalgo said, As he twirled his gray mustachio, “Sure this swallow overhead Thinks the Emperor’s tent a shed, And the Emperor but a Macho!” Hearing his imperial name Coupled with those words of malice, Half in anger, half in shame, Forth the great campaigner came Slowly from his canvas palace. “Let no hand the bird ****** Said he solemnly, “nor hurt her!” Adding then, by way of jest, “Golondrina is my guest, ’Tis the wife of some deserter!” Swift as bowstring speeds a shaft, Through the camp was spread the rumor, And the soldiers, as they quaffed Flemish beer at dinner, laughed At the Emperor’s pleasant humor. So unharmed and unafraid Sat the swallow still and brooded, Till the constant cannonade Through the walls a breach had made And the siege was thus concluded. Then the army, elsewhere bent, Struck its tents as if disbanding, Only not the Emperor’s tent, For he ordered, ere he went, Very curtly, “Leave it standing!” So it stood there all alone, Loosely flapping, torn and tattered, Till the brood was fledged and flown, Singing o’er those walls of stone Which the cannon-shot had shattered.
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1.9k
The Emperor’s Bird’s-Nest
Once the Emperor Charles of Spain, With his swarthy, grave commanders, I forget in what campaign, Long besieged, in mud and rain, Some old frontier town of Flanders. Up and down the dreary camp, In great boots of Spanish leather, Striding with a measured ***** These Hidalgos, dull and damp, Cursed the Frenchmen, cursed the weather. Thus as to and fro they went, Over upland and through hollow, Giving their impatience vent, Perched upon the Emperor’s tent, In her nest, they spied a swallow. Yes, it was a swallow’s nest, Built of clay and hair of horses, Mane, or tail, or dragoon’s crest, Found on hedge-rows east and west, After skirmish of the forces. Then an old Hidalgo said, As he twirled his gray mustachio, “Sure this swallow overhead Thinks the Emperor’s tent a shed, And the Emperor but a Macho!” Hearing his imperial name Coupled with those words of malice, Half in anger, half in shame, Forth the great campaigner came Slowly from his canvas palace. “Let no hand the bird ****** Said he solemnly, “nor hurt her!” Adding then, by way of jest, “Golondrina is my guest, ’Tis the wife of some deserter!” Swift as bowstring speeds a shaft, Through the camp was spread the rumor, And the soldiers, as they quaffed Flemish beer at dinner, laughed At the Emperor’s pleasant humor. So unharmed and unafraid Sat the swallow still and brooded, Till the constant cannonade Through the walls a breach had made And the siege was thus concluded. Then the army, elsewhere bent, Struck its tents as if disbanding, Only not the Emperor’s tent, For he ordered, ere he went, Very curtly, “Leave it standing!” So it stood there all alone, Loosely flapping, torn and tattered, Till the brood was fledged and flown, Singing o’er those walls of stone Which the cannon-shot had shattered.
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55
A destructive cuckoo in the nest trouble causing what he do best he’ll put your patience to the test with one eye open he like to rest Loves being an annoying pest mischief chasing with zest I’d like to cough him of my chest My temper he play with and ****** I held him longer on my breast my favourite, my maternal lust my confession hidden in his dust Love so explosive, I could burst
0
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 8:26 PM UTC
Cuckoo
To pick my brain I'll just lay here Have some pins and needles It's so fun walking on them Reeling Like a kick right to the feels In my heart In my soul Or, maybe my nuts As I grow old I've grown more cold, to the terror It whittles away and I simply admire it, vacantly It happens on the daily Change the ******* channel Every morning I look in the mirror And tell myself, "Life's a **** **** it." You **** that **** duderocketship. Filthy ***** Bawling my eyes out With a coat of smeared lipstick streaking my face It's my birthday. What a beautiful day for nuclear holocaust Good a day as any, I reckon To wine and dine on a feast of destruction While the world spontaneously combusts Somebody hand me a beer And we'll scale my collapsing cognitive function With a middle finger to The Man! I got a whole fist I'd fancy to ****** inside him This end of the world clock is broken and keeps ticking And I just listen Tick tick tock Waiting for the bomb Losing hope Idly twiddling my thumbs To go out with a bang is my lone desire It rattles my bones Set the world on fire Light up the night I just want to watch it burn There's a pretty nice view from my back porch Replacing the stars with torches Scorching a ravaged sky It's a party ****** Gandhi, & The Pope are coming Bring your friends I'm cringing yet effervescent In supple prepubesence His dead eyes ****** me Jesus wept
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Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 5:06 PM UTC
Peel back my scalp
I was 15 years old with trails of white powder dripping from my nose. I was 16 and never saw a sober day of my life, I hid behind bottles of whiskey and *** bags of molly, and vials of kitty. I was 17 and growing tired of this life. I was 17 and knew this wasn’t who I was meant to be. I was 17 with friends and a pact to move to California and make something of ourselves. I was 18 and kicked out of my mothers house. I was 18 and living with a best friend. I was 18 and found out they were doing ****** and **** I was 18 and sick of all the lies so I left. I moved to Socal where I surfed couch to couch till I climbed my way to the Bay area. I was 19 and lost. I was 19 and went on a 2 month road trip with my best friend and a guy who tried to ****** me. I was 19 and looking for myself. I made it to New Orleans and back with only losing myself more. I was 19 and fell in love for the first time. I was 20 and met a boy whom I never sought out to show me how to change myself until he broke my heart for the very first time. I was 20 years old and let him enter my tunnel heart like the yellowbird he is. He made it out alive but for a second I didn’t think I would. I did. I was 20 and finding myself. I was 20 and getting myself together after a broken heart. I was 20 and I found myself for the first time. I was 20 and no longer wanted death for my birthday I am now 21 and fearless.
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May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC
21 and fearless
If you want flowery poetry Hit pause, backspace delete. I write on a lot of subjects; Only a few could be called sweet. I’m not into swirling windstorms Or describing billowy clouds. Not into extolling autumn leaves Or conifers standing proud. I try to select the human things Whether good or even bad. Sometimes I wrestle with Life twists that make us sad. I try to speak for everyman And that includes the women. I try to reflect life circumstances And the results the travel with them. So, crooning polysyllabically Is seldom my favorite tune, Nor is waxing limerickally About June, and spoon and moon. Instead I’ll probably take to task Those who live in sappy hope A prince shows up in their life A proper romantic dope. I write the rhymes about crooks That steal from your children And the supposed leaders That ****** and abuse women. I write about parents who Ignore what their children need And instead find their joy On selfishness and greed. After so many millennia We really need to stop Waiting for someone else to come And be the moral traffic cop. It is us who need to change And teach our children accordingly Because the way we are fixing things Humanity is progressing dismally. So keep your butterfly couplets And views of rain on hedges. We are falling apart as humans And it’s visible on the edges. It will only take a few crazies With power enough to wield And this planet, and us of course, Will no longer have a shield.
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Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 6:59 PM UTC
PRETTY POETRY
Kick me Eat me Laugh me Impale me I am dust And smoke I am mere fragments of who She used to be I have assumed to be This body which I am using And abusing With my purges And my urges Because nothing is perfect But regret, ah regret Now that I can feast upon And Lost faith? Now that is just a buffet of emotion That was once good but is now discarded Thrown away like your empty stomach and your yellowing fingers AH and the remembrance of HIS fingers. The way no matter how hard you try, His touch still lingers All the way up your thighs. You can’t escape it; for you didn’t escape it then now did you? You didn’t even scream! You LET him make a home in your mind And pulverize your childhood With one hand! You LET him give you years of disgrace And an unrelenting NEED for cleanliness For purity that can never be found! So you scrub and you rub Your hands till their red, Why not give up and leave your mind To me instead? You are not strong You are not bold Always doing whatever you’re told! You think I’m ruining you? I’m helping you, helping you go exactly Where you should’ve gone the minute you betrayed yourself By not helping yourself. So you see I’m here because You can’t face a mirror You can’t face your own TOUCH There’s just so much I can watch without recoiling in disgust You make me sick! So ill make you sick. And now you see, I am everywhere inside you Let me invade you It shouldn’t be so hard You’ve been stepped on before, On that day, And it seems only fair You should leave this world In the very same way. Because your gravestone is marked all That’s needed is your final date Don’t try and deny it You know it’s too late. You can’t hide your despise For all you see Behind the redness of your eyes IS ME! Does that scare you? It should I’ve done everything All that I could To lead you here. For you hold TOO MUCH fear. And that’s not acceptable. That’s what makes you so forgettable. So you see, Everyone knows They know you’re a coward And they see right through you. So ill smoke this body And pop it And blister it And cut it And mutilate And supply it Yet never satisfy it But I will always comply To my will And I will purge every ounce of you that is left Until there’s nothing left. Ill throw you into the gutter, Where you will splatter And eventually... Yes eventually the whole of you will be reconciled Flushed down the same way your life went, Because this is where you belong It shouldn’t be very long Your time is up All hail Mia!
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Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 4:16 AM UTC
All Hail Mia
Kick me Eat me Laugh me Impale me I am dust And smoke I am mere fragments of who She used to be I have assumed to be This body which I am using And abusing With my purges And my urges Because nothing is perfect But regret, ah regret Now that I can feast upon And Lost faith? Now that is just a buffet of emotion That was once good but is now discarded Thrown away like your empty stomach and your yellowing fingers AH and the remembrance of HIS fingers. The way no matter how hard you try, His touch still lingers All the way up your thighs. You can’t escape it; for you didn’t escape it then now did you? You didn’t even scream! You LET him make a home in your mind And pulverize your childhood With one hand! You LET him give you years of disgrace And an unrelenting NEED for cleanliness For purity that can never be found! So you scrub and you rub Your hands till their red, Why not give up and leave your mind To me instead? You are not strong You are not bold Always doing whatever you’re told! You think I’m ruining you? I’m helping you, helping you go exactly Where you should’ve gone the minute you betrayed yourself By not helping yourself. So you see I’m here because You can’t face a mirror You can’t face your own TOUCH There’s just so much I can watch without recoiling in disgust You make me sick! So ill make you sick. And now you see, I am everywhere inside you Let me invade you It shouldn’t be so hard You’ve been stepped on before, On that day, And it seems only fair You should leave this world In the very same way. Because your gravestone is marked all That’s needed is your final date Don’t try and deny it You know it’s too late. You can’t hide your despise For all you see Behind the redness of your eyes IS ME! Does that scare you? It should I’ve done everything All that I could To lead you here. For you hold TOO MUCH fear. And that’s not acceptable. That’s what makes you so forgettable. So you see, Everyone knows They know you’re a coward And they see right through you. So ill smoke this body And pop it And blister it And cut it And mutilate And supply it Yet never satisfy it But I will always comply To my will And I will purge every ounce of you that is left Until there’s nothing left. Ill throw you into the gutter, Where you will splatter And eventually... Yes eventually the whole of you will be reconciled Flushed down the same way your life went, Because this is where you belong It shouldn’t be very long Your time is up All hail Mia!
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100
I tried to block you out. I cup my hands over my ears, Sing some immature tune To keep your memory away. It didn't work. My mind still goes, To the way you touched me then. To the way your strong, stretched fingers Traced my childish frame. To what you made me do. I still replay a movie in my head. "It's just a game" you promised. "All the big kids do it." No. They don't. You're so ****** up that you Were able to convince me that Something's wrong with me. I didn't ****** a child. I didn't lie to and coerce a seven year old To give into my own deranged needs and desires. You did that, remember? Part of me almost feels Sorry for you. I know you have your problems That you were born with But that is not my fault And that is certainly not A seven year-old version of me's fault, either. I told about what you did to me When I was fourteen. Some people say it must have been nearly impossible To keep a secret like that for seven years. It was honestly harder for me to break that secret. Part of me was emboldened. Part of me started to feel okay. Until it all happened again. My ex and I have been intimate But it is always consensual. When a friend took advantage of me Right after some tragic events took place I didn't know what to do. I couldn't speak. I couldn't think. It happened so fast But we didn't ***** I found my voice to deny that, Avidly. That, however Is a little less black and white. The way you abused me, clearly Was wrong, illegal, and disgusting in every sense of the word. I understand that. I do not understand what he did to me And it has left me more confused than anything else. I won't lie to you, I am ****** about what you did to me Still, to this day. I would never confront you about it I love your mother too much to hurt her that way. I am ****** about what he did to me, too. I still have the world's hardest time Going to school, to work, anywhere Out of fear that I will see him. When I do see him, I feel my breaths get short and raspy And my heart beats too quickly for me to catch up My body shakes, And I get an overwhelming nauseous sensation. However, I am trying to cope with this. It will not keep me bound. You never kept me bound. I am breaking through every chain That has strangled me like a noose. I am accepting this With every bone of my being So I can move on with my life So I can teach others So I can become stronger No thanks to you.
0
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
A Letter to my Abuser (That I never intend on sending)
I tried to block you out. I cup my hands over my ears, Sing some immature tune To keep your memory away. It didn't work. My mind still goes, To the way you touched me then. To the way your strong, stretched fingers Traced my childish frame. To what you made me do. I still replay a movie in my head. "It's just a game" you promised. "All the big kids do it." No. They don't. You're so ****** up that you Were able to convince me that Something's wrong with me. I didn't ****** a child. I didn't lie to and coerce a seven year old To give into my own deranged needs and desires. You did that, remember? Part of me almost feels Sorry for you. I know you have your problems That you were born with But that is not my fault And that is certainly not A seven year-old version of me's fault, either. I told about what you did to me When I was fourteen. Some people say it must have been nearly impossible To keep a secret like that for seven years. It was honestly harder for me to break that secret. Part of me was emboldened. Part of me started to feel okay. Until it all happened again. My ex and I have been intimate But it is always consensual. When a friend took advantage of me Right after some tragic events took place I didn't know what to do. I couldn't speak. I couldn't think. It happened so fast But we didn't ***** I found my voice to deny that, Avidly. That, however Is a little less black and white. The way you abused me, clearly Was wrong, illegal, and disgusting in every sense of the word. I understand that. I do not understand what he did to me And it has left me more confused than anything else. I won't lie to you, I am ****** about what you did to me Still, to this day. I would never confront you about it I love your mother too much to hurt her that way. I am ****** about what he did to me, too. I still have the world's hardest time Going to school, to work, anywhere Out of fear that I will see him. When I do see him, I feel my breaths get short and raspy And my heart beats too quickly for me to catch up My body shakes, And I get an overwhelming nauseous sensation. However, I am trying to cope with this. It will not keep me bound. You never kept me bound. I am breaking through every chain That has strangled me like a noose. I am accepting this With every bone of my being So I can move on with my life So I can teach others So I can become stronger No thanks to you.
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79
Oblivious to arcane mishaps That ****** the bones established by society The echo of her tattoo sings of a great depression Each time the memory surfaces, A twisted grin is born Perhaps this could be the preluding window to existential purgatory
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Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 10:55 PM UTC
Cinematography Of A Memory
I want to destroy something beautiful An innocent child's stained-glass mind Throw a rock through it Watch it shatter and fall I want to look into the face of Divine Greatness and jack off in its eye I want to mentally ****** everybody in existence Our minds have been ****** Since the dawn of civilization Man is anything but civilized We are Savages Savages of a demented, Macabre masquerade Waltzing on roses While the thorns pierce our souls We stare into the face of all evil We recognize its intentions And welcome it with Warm open arms
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Dec 18, 2010
Dec 18, 2010 at 11:48 AM UTC
We are Savages
So, what they call you man! and you feel you could execute me; with your lies and selfishness! Not because your masculinity gets ah hold of you, you could exploit me! I cry at nights, while I hold my thighs, as you ****** me! Dang! My memory is frozen cause you contort me! You're like a pick pocket! picking my womanhood. You torment my me So, what I am a woman, Don't frustrate me! Trying to turn me into Jezebel, with your ****** calamity. I'm fed up with this exorcist! Going to start a Genesis! A new beginning! I'm like Daniel, in the lion's Den; Not afraid of creatures like you! So the next time you move, I cut! Cut you mentally! Cut the frustration! Exploitation! Your actions! Liberating myself with my voice!
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May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
Genesis!
I have begun to Stiffen up When a particular word Walks into the room This word is an intimidating and Curvaceous woman With crimson red lips and A horrid laughter that leaves me With reddened, chafing ears And misted vision Have I fallen victim? To Beauty’s dear friend Insecurity, a wide mouthed ***** Whom manifests in every human’s features The zit above my brow Or the scar along my lip In actuality Insecurity seems Unaware of her duty to ruin me Instead she has allowed Beauty To ****** my subconscious For beauty has crawled in my skin And made herself quite comfy She has reddened my lips Given me corn silky hair and height Everyone loves her and the Glimmer that she has put in my eyes That shine is actually the sheen Of foggy tears But what admirer Gives a **** about that? This beast; Beauty Within my skin She is all That I am good for
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Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 9:25 PM UTC
What Have You Done?