"pist" poems
TW: r#pe culture
anxiety-riddled,
my head is a constant battle of sounds
and feelings crashing
like waves into each other;
interference scares me.
as does being out of rhythm,
missing too many beats — i am
conflict-averse but i am also
realistic:
i know that
sound travels faster
through solids and liquids
than through the air,
can be distorted
and interfered
into oblivion—
that when
push comes to shove,
whisper networks
can only reach so far.
scores of screaming matches
between metoo advocates and r#pist apologists
crescendos of nails
scraped across a board
feel a bit too familiar
like listening to white noise and broken records on repeat
while scrolling through toiletpaperworthy nonapologies
witnessing victims collectively crying in an orchestra of agony
and then be blamed for attention-seeking at best,
of causing their own suffering at worst.
although it pains me to listen to these tragic tunes,
it is amusing how so many mishear this collective choir as
survivors celebrating with silly receipts in cancel parties
serving blistering hot tea sweetened by revenge - no
all this is anything but
cathartic.
it’s to make people aware
that the same melodies are sung or screamed
by those who suffered similar pains
and so that those of a similar frequency know
there are those who listen
that their voice matters
and we are not alone.
- 20210315
May 28, 2021
May 28, 2021 at 12:44 AM UTC
****** off
****** of
****** o
******
Pisse
****
Pis
Pi
P
Pi
Pis
Pist
Pisto
Pistol
T
To
A
T
Ta
Tar
Targ
Targe
Target
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 11:46 PM UTC
There is anger in these thoughts teens r treated like kids but expected to act like adults ***** its not my fault this is ******** having me cleaning up like im a maid's kit but its the same punishment my 18 year old brother gets so am i 18 is all tht maturity supposed to hit i guess since im letting my anger out here and not in a fit cleaning the bathroom washing the floor i hope thts cps knocking on the door you dont trust me on the streets but expect me to hear my alarm when im sleep putting my education at risk all my teachers r goin to be pist but i hve to get bck to being cinderella and cleaning this **** i first thought it was a joke but im not taking the risk
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
High hopes on high ropes
Swinging dreams back
pushing forth, life is d•o•p•e
come full swing, me and you
Tip toeing the pebbles
ever so carefully in rain dew
Sometimes on my tip toes
I feel someone a seether
Only in my breath knows
I treaded not for very long
But as harsh to please
To comfort, with ol song
On my fingers touch my lips
The tire of replicated movement
Made God and the devil pist
Tomorrow, crossed out my name
The merry-go-round that spin
The fire in my skin is pain
all the people know her name
Back and forth I rock my chair
thinking and going, stoping,
And time is not ticking
time is looking for rest, dropping
killing every move my toes make
Unchaste paragon I make rebel of,
and off they will go... my orgen
To a valkyrie's back who will slane
the shame of me..
~I am still hanging on. I love you mom.
© S.T. Rebel of Eden
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC
I looked at the cat,
The cat look back,
As I wondered what happened to him today.
To my surprise he spoke
My soul did woke,
And I pist my pants out of fright.
The cat did laugh
As it called me an ***
And my fear did wither away.
But the cat stopped,
To remember his thought,
And to my attention it brought.
A fine line of interest.
Again the cat began to talk,
As he was startled while he walked.
The cat said:
I saw a pink window,
And through it a widow,
That looked like a witch in disguise.
She sat on a chair,
And to my despair,
She winked one of her eyes.
I thought she wanted me,
But she beseeched me,
To eat some of her pie.
Then she raised a bowl of milk,
With a silvery smooth silk
Clothe in her hand that, she waved at me with pride.
I did jump,
As my mouth agreed yum,
Through that pink window.
The widow did turn,
Into the witch I’d seen first
My eyes then tear and burst.
I twitched my body
To turn around,
Then I heard no sound.
But when I made the full 180
That made me look pity,
There she was on the ground.
She laughed at me my face turned blue,
As I stared at her,
From the other side of the pink window.
She said look at your face,
What a big disgrace,
When I noticed my whiskers were gone.
Now you my owner,
Didn’t notice a thing,
Except that I spoke in your sight.
Now that you look like me pretty as can be,
I laughed at the whiskers on your face,
That uplifted my sight.
©
Sep 10, 2010
Sep 10, 2010 at 11:25 AM UTC
Don't worry ‘bout me: I have a nice panga,
A pretty assegai, a Chukchi yaranga,
And I can start fire with some thin tiny twigs
By touching them a bit with my fishnet stockings.
In the Atlas I tamed the last of the lions;
In the Ngorongoro cheetahs feared my irons;
In the Rocky Mountains I made all grizzlies pant;
And in Tamil Nadu tigers purred in my hand.
‘Cuz for kisses, it’s true: I do never resist,
And every man I like, I track him on the pist,
I find him and ****** and finally kiss him.
As for peeled vultures though, hillbilly noisy dogs,
Big black or green mambas, stinky naughty warthogs:
I do always cook them but never embrace them...
Read by Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth :
Please note: In the link address, the word "UNDERSCORE" (2x) has to be replaced by the typographic sign of the underscore (Alt+095).
https://www.cjoint.com/doc/18UNDERSCORE05/HEzhgrx8p4AUNDERSCOREIn-love-in-the.mp3
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 4:17 AM UTC
If he came up to me
Right now and told me
'Hi' I'm pretty sure I'd
Punch him really
Hard in the
****
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 3:51 PM UTC
Do you feel depressed and all alone?
Passing depressing thoughts by getting ******
Listening to your parents because they know whats best.
Going to school and the bully pokes at your chest.
Coming home every other day with black and blue eyes.
You keep your self locked away and everyone wonders why.
Does it seem like everyone so smiley and happy?
Do you wonder why you can't be?
Don't you hate when it seems like you don't exist?
Still keeping to yourself filling with rage getting pist?
Wondering how you could get back at them.
As you remove your *** from its last stem.
Getting closer to those feelings of suicide.
Everyone asks and still the feelings you hide.
Filled in a world with sad and stupid regrets.
Thinking of all the ******** taunts and threats.
And when people push you to listen and talk.
Thinking empty thoughts on that cold lonely walk.
But the control over them is on your side.
It's up to you if your ready for your suicide.
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 8:30 PM UTC
...but feel free to pelt me with rotten eggs.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXX)
It's been an awful week for all I'd thence
Tried extra hard to be mair wise. In pale
Excuse I make mistakes each day and fail
At evrything. To play the ther'pist hence
And make myself recite in sheer defense
The bald facts I threw out, ignored to scale,
Nor but let folly triumph oer, t'avail
Me, did no good it seems, "wise" was pretense.
He never cared that I exist, I'm sure,
Though I could prove he did and does still too.
Twas all a lie he liked me, but in poor
'Scuse my heart swears he did. I know's not true.
So I trip oer my feet, distracted fer
No reason, cuz I "like" whom 'gain?...quite blue.
30Mar19b
"All this have I proved by wisdom: I said, I will be wise; but it was far from me." (Ecc 7:23)
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 4:44 PM UTC