"penalized" poems
A female tennis player might give
An umpire a piece of her mind
When she disagrees with him.
Consequently, she is fined
Or penalized in other ways.
However, if the player's a male,
He can spit, destroy his racket,
Yell, and viciously assail
The umpire at a tournament.
He could even resort to calling
The ump an "abortion," and little or nothing
Happens to him. Now THAT'S appalling!
A candid man might be considered
"Direct" or "outspoken." Isn't that rich?
But if you are an assertive women,
You are basically called a *****
A man who loudly demonstrates
At a Senate hearing in an angry fashion
Could be considered "aggressive" or even
Be called a man of "impetuous passion."
A woman, however, who interrupts
A Senate hearing with passion hears
Herself being called "hysterical" when
She's led away to Senators' sneers.
Sexism? Discrimination?
Inequality? Status quo?
It certainly appears that way.
The double standard has got to go!
-by Bob B (9-11-18)
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 9:13 AM UTC
twice by god's accidental interference,
our crash vehicles, super sized shopping carts,
connect, we are manger-penalized for unnecessary roughness
and disturbing the supermarkets peace
what better way to judge character than to examine
a single persons shopping cart contents?
hers,
all organic, milk, heirloom tomatoes, even the Chardonnay,
grown upon the farms of the island and vineyards on
the forks that shelter the isle from the ravages of the Atlantic
mine,
Hebrew National franks, yellow mustard,
very classy brioche buns, a six pack of Corona Light,
and funny colored, funny looking, rusted russet potato chips
with a tremulous smile, and an overly loud, derisive sniff,
pronounces me dead man walking sooner than later,
to which, I respond,
then, teach me, where shall we dine tonight?
later that night,
after a thousand kisses of her fluttering eyelashes,
she props herself upon an elbow and
in a tone sincere and caring,
extracts from the poet promises of
natural exclusivity
from now on, healthy, natural only, organic and pure,
from the soul soil of our shared habitat
her suntan skin, garden-digging hand, I clasp,
softly climbing on top of her,
announce with total genuine sincerity and solemnity;
I swear it, from now on, all my loving will be sourced locally
rewarded with a laugh and a gentle but hard enough,
garden to table (with her free hand), head smacking,
I noting nod, good naturedly
that both the laugh and smack,
as well,
*sourced locally,
sourced lovingly,*
which then seeded
this new only love jointly authored poem,
planted in our mingling blossoming crashing
bodies
5/29/17 i
12:43pm
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 1:06 PM UTC
Welcome to womanhood what’s so great about being nothing
50 years ago we couldn’t even work
you would think that the people who bring you onto this earth you would respect the most
instead you hurt us
we are disrespected, disobeyed,
stay in a woman’s place, do what women do
when you say something back
it’s not proper or lady like
looks like something dangerous
we can’t do it
looks like something tough
don’t even try
but if you think about it
we’re the toughest
we risk the most
No matter what we do
somehow it’s wrong
you’re strong, you get penalized
you cry, you get stepped on
why even try when nothing will ever make a difference
Frankly being a “woman” *****
it’s unnecessary responsibility that no one really wants
we bleed about 86 days out of the year nothing to stop
pregnant for 40 weeks with children that are gonna disrespect us because their dad’s are gonna leave us and children become just like that
in the end we end up alone
no one ever really cares
what you do or how you end up
you’ve populated the world now your job is done
that is if you’re ever that lucky
some place they take that away
stabbing and degrading the only thing that will make you anything
torturing and killing the ones that are weak or
just not strong enough to fight back
some places all you are is a toy
being ***** and played with the whole time as long as you’re good you stay alive
having something stuck inside you shocking you dead
then they say
“Welcome to womanhood” what if I wanna leave?
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 2:11 PM UTC
Your rapid fire
Heart's desire
Is a high octane
Bullet train
Bouncing between destinations
At widely varying elevations
Stopping at mysterious stations
Where I experience deflation
In between these stops is a track
Where everything is black
And you attack
Until the merciful sun finally shines
You then say you'll always be mine
There are quick flashes of light
But also sick gasps of fright
And it's a big task of might
So the trick is to grasp right
When the speed of your movement
You claim to be an improvement
Creates fire extinguishing wind
So the flame you lit you rescind
Your ride was aridly adrenalized
Which is why I was penalized
In a poison prison incentivized
By your many mental lies
Eluding my sentinel kind
No love I find
Only tire marks
In entire dark
That lead to nowhere
While I scream no fair
You were an explosion of pleasure
Whose interest I tried to measure
Instead of being happy
I saw your train lapping
Familiar phantom spots
When emotions ran hot
Through my heart you shot
At a velocity I once thought
To be completely impossible
Proven wrong by bullet holes
And only lonely bullets know
What's inside my heart
They take those contents
To make me repent
Your speedy intent
That was fast
Smoking past
Things that last
Into broken glass
Until we were cut
By our rushing rut
I couldn't take anymore
So I sped to the door
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 4:52 AM UTC
The words I saw the other day on the bathroom stall read
"Glorified Prison"
MMMM, Cognitively thinking
to myself.
"This is my life"
In an instant flashback of
bent memories,
I thought about
the year
when
it all happened.
My heart started beating rapidly,
my brain collapsing,
My body drenched in sweat.
I was drowning.
Drowning inside a mental pool
and there was no life ring to save me.
I just stood there,
Mummified to the moment.
My eyes were glazed over as if I had glaucoma trying to stare
through a thick London fog.
Everything was disappearing
in front of me.
I saw it though, in my distant memory,
quickly flashing in front of me, like a shooting star across the sky,
then it was gone.
Gone to a place that I never recognized before.
A place that was out of some sort of bad dream.
That place. That brick house. Pitch black outside.
That kind of bad dream, "the worst kind of nightmare
that you can ever imagine"
and I couldn't wake up from it.
Make it go away!!
Please, Make it go Away!!
I am begging you.
STOP IT!!
His hands suffocating me,
but I could barely feel them
or hardly breathe, none the less.
Breathless in this moment.
I became to numb to my surroundings.
Trapped in my own seclusion
and by my own misdirection.
I was left wondering.
I had no idea what was going on.
Lost inside myself,
with unknown fear,
trapped inside that brick house
of malicious trepidation
and insidious manipulation.
I was being sexually violated
and I didn't know why
nor could I control it.
I was in a poisoned induced
coma of fear.
My mind was twisted
beyond reproach
as he continued his sadistic
and cruel usage of my body.
I was longer a human being,
I was just object for his enjoyment.
Escaping the insanity, I ran!!
Finally free or so I thought.
This mental torture has burdened
me for so long and has taken me down many diluted paths
of mistrust, misguidance
and internal, penalized
grief.
I am became lost unto myself.
I have grown to live inside
this Glorified Prison,
with no release date in site.
The torture that I was subjected to,
will never leave me.
So this prison has become solace.
It has also become my hell.
It is where I put on my shoes
and walk without fear but
it is also where I run away
from things.
Many times I begin to tremble when I think of
that nightmare.
It has become a seeded part of me.
It is who I am.
I am a survivor though.
One day I hope to be released
beyond the walls of this
glorified prison,
so I can finally be free.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 11:03 PM UTC
They going to hear rhymes they never heard before
It will come as a rap beat, right down to Biggie and Tupac
So slick and ********
I am the rebirth
I am like an angel that walks the earth
I revolutionized
I am the element of surprise
Read my script like an animation on paper
For this new millennium
I plan to start the New Year
As a fresh poet and poetical rapper
With a little more style and more grammar
So don’t mistake me for those wannabees
I will work my *** off to fulfill my destiny
I will never sell my soul
To achieve the worlds gold and vanity
But I stay true and conscious
Because I know I am precious
With Christ I grow old
I am black and bold
My rhymes are a combination of words and grammar
A few misfits, an editor would penalized
But when you check my style
A gift you just can’t deny
I don’t beg for recognition
I don’t kiss ***** to gain fame or do self proclamation
I am the phantom that will earn my respect
In print my name is engraved
My path is paved, many are called
But only a few is chosen by God
Against all the odd
Connect my analogy
I am a poetical Genius
My lyrics are like a composed orchestrated
Musical rhapsody
Call me prodigy
I am the rebirth of Modern Rhymery.
All rights Reserved.
Christena AV Williams
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
I still deny the rules and social ties of citizen spies
that i televise by shouting chanted anthems into the sky
yet to comply with the codes of conduct i defy
as you synthesize the number and size
i am careful not to compromise the lost light within my eyes
my cold gaze reflective of your demise
and i
scrutinize them until they realize they're being penalized for the lies
until maggots monopolize your corpse through your cries
until pulled away by the hissing of shadowed flies that fly into the lost light in my eyes
until my pupils cauterize
locking you inside
institutionalised
and i
am imprisoned in a prism of realism
as anti social collisions have me pulling my soul through verbal incisions
seeping radioactive emissions
from the legions of religions
from the season of rhyme without reason
failure to pay darkened tuitions is now treason
as catastrophic cataclysms lock me away in my primal visions
my verbal inflictions as though holy missions to infuse friction
smashing through my divided contradictions and feeding my addictions
good riddance
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
Got fired but looked as if he bluntly had resigned,
Got penalized for improving every product's design.
And yet created another one, cuz as hell was creative his mind,
"Stay hungry, Stay foolish", was his ultimate key-line.
Not a coder, not an engineer, no technical precision,
No determined profession, except for a couple of visions.
Loved his work and worshipped his love,
Stood apart form the crowd to put himself above.
Eliminating the unnecessary was the magic of his sight,
What phone would you be using, if on his was a copyright?
His fame is the consequence of what he always used to say,
Conventional is always preferred, can you think it in a different way?
Got trolled as the company's name was based on the name of a fruit,
However it has been for many decades, digital technology's roots.
He taught us how to follow one's dreams without always being afraid,
Because thousands of supporters stand behind some handful filled with hate.
He taught me to grab the golden opportunity and not regret on the one that drops,
As like him one day, I will be able to say, "Ladies and gentlemen, My name is Steve Jobs!"
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
There are players in the penalty box that don't belong
Because the refs start tripping
When people skate on thin ice
But they're not fighting
Or slashing
The winning team keeps them down by charging them
Until some go to the box just for boarding
And that's only the icing
It's difficult to not misconduct yourself during this game
When the score is ran up
By a team with a wall for a goalie
And a rifle for a stick
They score when we hit the post
Yet we're penalized for trying to achieve our goals
Forcing us to defend
As they shoot at us
For being on a different team
We need to make a power play
And **** some penalties
Don't fear too many men on the ice
The gloves come off but it's futile
The refs never wore gloves to begin with
And apparently don't need them the way I do
I sit on the bench in defeat
Praying they have a ****** overtime
Because right now
In the time of regulation
We're stuck on ice
As the scoreboard hangs out of reach above us
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 10:40 PM UTC
In a world full of deadlines and assignments,
I often wonder if I am getting credit for my life.
Did I pass the exam because I didn't want to die today?
Am I succeeding for inhabiting a level state of consciousness?
Will I be penalized for the fatigue or the anxious habits,
The inevitable compulsions?
Do they see below my skin where the turmoil lays?
Are my bones enough to hold me up under the weight
Of my perfectionism and pressure for success?
Am I too slow or different in a world that demands I exist in a system?
Am I enough in the course of Planet Earth?
Is who I am what they want,
And does it matter?
Is there extra credit for taking a shower and complying with medication?
Professor, did I achieve an A?
Jan 16, 2021
Jan 16, 2021 at 2:07 AM UTC
the fair fleeced lamb lay tranquilized
on the frigid, unforgiving barn floor.
crimeless and chaste, his crude caress penalized
her until she desired to live no more.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
When I was in the 6th grade
My mom bought me a shirt
On it, It said **** The World
So I wore it to school
All my friends thought it was cool
The principle didn't
He made me wear my gym shirt over it
So that the one my mom got me was hidden
Back than I didn't know of the first amendment
Didn't understand the freedom of speech
Yet some how I still felt like,
A wrong was done to me
So I asked my principal what was so wrong with my shirt,
That he came to this decision
Did I not have the right to form my own opinion
Was the word **** to ******
Is the world not ******
He simply replied,
"I simply can't have my students
wearing clothes with profanity on it.
Check your hand book
It's a whole page on it.
Now since you usually don't get in trouble,
I'll just give you detention
And call your mom."
Well detention only meant to me
That I wouldn't get to watch my favorite cartoon
Yet I was too young that I was getting penalized
For not fitting into societies platoon
But I was kind of worried about
What my mom would say
When I got home she asked
"How was your day"...
I told her my shirt said it all
She said good
Best 5 dollars I ever spent...
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
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Apr 14, 2025
Apr 14, 2025 at 6:33 PM UTC
They protect us 4m harassment
They saved us 4m abashment
They Clemented all types of bright
So we led a peachful night
They unescorted their family
So we chaperoned our ancestry
They uglify their life
So we glamorize our entity
They feed upon corpses
So we have sustenance
They gave up all their life
For the sake of the nation
They were caught,penalized, exploited,deprived, starved
At last they died
A salute to all those majestic soul...
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC
"Diya, Diya where are you?"
Oh! Mom calls me from behind
allowing me not to be myself,
restricting me to meet the world
in and of itself.
why does she do this to me?
why cant she let me be?
It is so colorful outside.
the world is waiting for me
to feel the pride.
There comes the warning from behind
seeing the excitement in my eyes
counseling "Don't fall prey,
for the world is deceiving you,
you will not be welcomed,
you will not be spared,
you are not old enough
to perceive the threat.
you will only have me
who has always cared".
No words of wisdom would stop me,
as i am the pigeon, and i am set to live free.
I take my first step out
tumbling down
and still getting up
trying to fly.
I finally take my first leap
and start flying
as if i am on the cloud nine and
the entire sky is mine.
Greeting the fellow birds
welcoming them to my nest,
i feel the freshness in the air
and start winging like waves.
My first flight was so splendid
until a sharp edged object
pierced my wings
and let me fall
on the ground unattended.
I now realize
why mother was so protective
warning of the threats,
but i gave a deaf ear
only to infer
that she was right.
I could have waited
for some more time
rather lying in here
being penalized.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 6:59 AM UTC
Crumbled underneath shattered dreams,
that fell before they could span their wings.
Struggling for a quick last gasp of breath,
He bore the brunt of horrid sufferings.
He knew by intuition, that all was lost,
and the crucifying pain stung like hell.
He had gambled and stumbled in succession,
And before he could rise, again he fell.
Maybe ambition had driven him mad,
or maybe greed had stabbed him in the back.
Penalized for wishing and barred from hoping,
He was imperiously ****** into a ravine so black.
He had shrieked for aid as he bled,
But a shameless silence answered his yelp.
Success had made him many friends,
But in misery, he had only his shadow for help.
Convinced of his apparent invincibility,
he had jeered at predictions of his fall.
But when the fatal fist struck and strangled him,
he shivered and stood cornered against the wall.
His life got embroiled in the worst of controversies,
with luck dealing all the dreaded cards.
The public juggernaut steamrollered over him,
And his destiny broke into a thousand shards.
People stood shocked as his fortunes dipped,
and readily chronicled the tragedy of his tale.
His spectacular doom had fluttered many minds,
and his life was enveloped in a stormy gale.
Stripped of all his glory, he stood naked
at the altar of the Great Court of Deeds.
Prosecution was sharp and the judgement brisk,
and he was gheraoed by a ghetto of Satan’s steeds.
He could smell the stench of felony in the air,
as once-familiar voices called for his head.
The wretched flimsiness of human loyalties
filled his torn heart with a fierce hatred.
Even as they pitilessly led him to the gallows,
the resolution of all illusions made him blind.
And even before the darned noose had tightened,
Hopelessness had triumphed over his mind.
So, he died – a pathetic predetermined death,
punished for living rightly by the wrong rules.
Lost amidst the cruel ironies of his world,
crushed under the combined weight of fools.
**********************************************
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 1:02 PM UTC
In 2002
Christina Aguilera released a single called
"Beautiful."
Do you remember how revolutionary those words
"I am beautiful
No matter what they say
And words can't bring me dow-own"
Seemed to be?
Well, it still seems visionary
As to many
I am only as beautiful
As a man says I am.
Only reduced to pretty face
Only reduced to **** body
Only reduced to nothing.
My mouth
Do they call that beautiful?
Only if the paint spilling from it
Comes in the shades "sorry" and "yes"
Because rewind to the time I was sixteen
And two men at my job deemed it fit
To tell me explicitly what they would do to my body
In front of a room full of customers.
So I told them exactly what my fist would do to their face
And penalized for it.
They said I was rude
They said that while it was vile
It was not my place to fight back.
Well, I am fighting back right now!
To not be reduced to pretty face
To **** body
To nothing.
My mouth
My mind
My heart
Is beautiful
No matter what they say
Even if they tell me to say nothing
At all.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 6:56 PM UTC
The day he walked in that door
was the day he was destined to die.
He lay his foot inside the door
and the other one concurrently came out.
He transposed his clothes
but they ceased to cover his body.
The scarlet coat was left hanging
in the closet with his soul.
Indicted with crimes
that he must not have been penalized for.
And bashed by society
with their spiteful words like arrows.
Met his lover
but was parted by the injudicious laws.
Left skint and lacerated
with the epithet of an outcast.
Alien tears fill for him
and outcasts pay their homages.
No statue of air was this man
yet hard labor was all he was given to build it out of stone.
His teacher later delineated him as a blot on their tutorship.
For he was but a tutor.
De Profundis
spoke of his anguished journey.
Victorian times
disagreed with his originality and frolic.
He told
platonic love was all he was guilty of.
Yet,
he was charged with crimes.
Drowned in cries of shame;
and incarcerated to rip him off his passion.
Something was dead in him,
and what was dead was hope.
Hope died first
and then gradually died the passion.
In exile,
his love for writing too deceased.
The daemon inside him
ceased to inspire.
God sent the lord of death
The lord of death
didn’t move around pompously like him.
But came announced,
for it had been accepted.
The wallpaper moaned
upon his untimely death.
For it desired to die
instead of the then mincing man.
He left the earthly plains
for the good have fewer days.
The good die young
as did the revered outcast.
Herodotus the father of history
unerringly expressed the good ones’ misery.
He repudiated to deny his soul
and lived nonchalantly.
He desired all the fruits of the world
so he lived.
Exile ruined him
and rent his ardor.
His meetings with his lover
were interdicted by his family.
He was pardoned
but a century too late.
Along with the outcasts
that lived in throbbing pain.
The outcast deceased when young
but lived indefinitely.
Infinite existence is promised
for the ***** was silver-tongued.
He died young
and roams the immortal planes.
Just like Alan Turing,
Bhagat Singh, JFK, and countless more.
God wanted them
for they wanted to augment their heavens.
Nov 3, 2020
Nov 3, 2020 at 11:38 AM UTC
Perhaps I deserve to be penalized
For everything I do
Instead of being loved by myself,
And you.
Jun 10, 2021
Jun 10, 2021 at 9:53 PM UTC
I gave you my heart, I gave you my soul, but that perfect girl, I don't wanna play that role. Because a role like that doesn't exist, for Gods sake, and in a world like this.. Where you're already penalized and accused for being fake.
I do what I can, not to please people, but to only please my need to do the right thing for myself. And myself can't take another dropped head right in front of my face... Oh wait... That dropped head is me... It's my reflection and sometimes I can't even recognize her.. So is it me? Or is it my dark chapter.
sigh who am I kidding, my story book is unreadable. But my upfront is as clear as I let you see it and maybe to you, I'm unbleedable.. But between you and I shed blood just as well as I shed tears.
Look at me in the face and ull see that my bleeding heart is my tears!
Understand that I may look like a coward, my heart is built like a rhino. Strong enough to take the pain but the ones left like me aren't shy to being endangered, and chance is our risky game. (more to continue soon)
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 5:41 PM UTC