"protesting" poems
I always wondered why people judged others for their sexuality. Shouldn't love be just the words like "love is love". People should be able to express themselves thru words and actions. Sexuality is something others take for granted or even advantage of. If a guy comes out gay woman usually always say "the pretty boys are always the gay ones" or how men always come up to woman who are lesbian say "I can turn that girl straight in just one night". Or even hearing still to this day people are protesting on the street against gays and gay marriage. Today's society rather care bout brands, religion, race, and someone's sexuality rather than someone's cultural background and getting to know someone deep within. Teens who hide in the closet due to their families being against their sons or daughters for being gay become suicidal and the suicide percentages go up. People take deaths more serious than those who are a live and trying to make some of their selves. Rumors that are spread round by high school students bout someone's sexuality turns into harmful beatings, but the school system is too into themselves and care bout their job title rather than to take care of harassment and bullying. Celebrities who hide their sexuality then later come out are the talk of the town, then there is always that one person from paparazzi who screws with the news headline and puts lies into everyone in society and everyone believes what they see rather than to think outside the box that not everything they see online or TV is true. Parents who are gay are looked upon as to "who wears the pants" in the relationship, or "whose top", or even whose the "daddy or the mommy". Then the children who have gay parents become victims and are always assumed they are also gay too or just not normal in today's society. A lot of countries for example Russia abuses their laws against gays and soon enough fights and killings close to murders happen every minute of every second of every day. Even presidents in a lot of states and countries are against gays and try to pass laws made by the government which by then a lot more people hide behind closets. The world is more ******* up than people may think, if we just stick together and except people as they are then there would be equality.
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 3:51 AM UTC
I stagger out of the Paradise Rock Club. 11:04pm.
42 degrees. Short sleeves, no jacket; I give zero *****
I have experienced something beyond words, but I'll try
In 50 minutes it will be All Hallow's Eve, a Monday
Due and not yet begun I have an essay on James Joyce and
A reckoning on the occult, inner mysteries of the CPU.
Again, I give zero *****
The last hour and a half were the best possible use of my time.
Not 5 miles away, people I sympathize with
are protesting the failure of America,
But tonight I have seen her undeniable beauty:
904, as the fire code rates, packed in to the inch
A choir united, the director:
A man who tonight skipped his Aunt Steph's funeral at her request
To be here
To direct us in each anthem.
In hopeful, truthful noise
Our hoarse and untrained voices combine
And as Mr. Key observes, against all odds, against all reason
Make the most beautiful sound.
D.B. Guy
Slightly drunk, tears in my eyes
On the Green Line
11:17pm
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 3:12 AM UTC
bravery isn't just limited to fighting dragons
or wearing that armour of yours
bravery isn't all about protesting what you believe in
or using your fists to do the explaining
it's you at 6 in the morning forcing yourself to get up
because you stayed up all night crying
it's when you try so hard to keep that untouched blade
that you always kept hidden from your parents
away from your skin
it's when you always try to think of "happy thoughts"
and fake your smiles;
although it's make believe, it's a sign you don't want to give up
it's when you feel all your bottled up emotions
rushing, begging to be felt by you
and yet you keep yourself from caving in completely
succumbing from your darkest fears
you always feel hopeless and alone,
but then here you are,
alive
breathing
grasping for that minuscule light
you think you have given up completely,
and that your dreams died a long time ago
but when you listen closely,
your heart is still beating
isn't that a sign of hope?
you are fighting your own wars,
so never believe them when they call you
weak
because you have your own battle scars as proof,
proof that you survive and still fighting
you are the hero(heroine) of your own story
so believe me when i tell you that
you are brave
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries,
Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly,
A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a sea
Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries
Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes
Ebon in the hedges, fat
With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.
I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me.
They accommodate themselves to my milkbottle, flattening their sides.
Overhead go the choughs in black, cacophonous flocks --
Bits of burnt paper wheeling in a blown sky.
Theirs is the only voice, protesting, protesting.
I do not think the sea will appear at all.
The high, green meadows are glowing, as if lit from within.
I come to one bush of berries so ripe it is a bush of flies,
Hanging their bluegreen bellies and their wing panes in a Chinese screen.
The honey-feast of the berries has stunned them; they believe in heaven.
One more hook, and the berries and bushes end.
The only thing to come now is the sea.
From between two hills a sudden wind funnels at me,
Slapping its phantom laundry in my face.
These hills are too green and sweet to have tasted salt.
I follow the sheep path between them. A last hook brings me
To the hills' northern face, and the face is orange rock
That looks out on nothing, nothing but a great space
Of white and pewter lights, and a din like silversmiths
Beating and beating at an intractable metal.
5.4k
They said there was a drought water was short
not enough for domestic use.
At first declaring it was nobody's fault
it had not rained for a long time!
Committing an offence by using a hose pipe
truthfully was a load of tripe.
Water companies are making a financial killing
everyone encouraged not to waste water.
More fancy gadgets the public would be willing
to buy water use multiplied.
As the buzz was building more on any land
telling us there was a demand!
Thousands of houses built was there a big need
statistics only the government held.
Groups tried protesting for it not to proceed
but fields were still built on.
Heavy rains came with more depleted drainage
so did the despair and rage.
A state of increasing taxes with nothing to show
more became classed as poor.
Communication with voters becoming very slow
the authorities had a strangle hold!
As the ban on a non existent drought dragged on
more doubters joined the throng!
Was there a danger of a growing national threat
from people against the elite.
Basking in luxury as the masses increasing in debt
the drought added more fuel.
Restrictions taking away their dignity it turned sour
there would be a defining hour.
Or is this just a modern nightmare tale?
The Foureyed Poet.
Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 9:50 AM UTC
It was supposed to be
The dawn of a new age;
A new set of dialogue
On a more balanced stage
With better lines for
The actors to deliver.
It was supposed to start in
The sixties and last forever.
We didn’t really know for sure
What this Aquarius stuff was
But it seemed to us to be
A metaphysical enough cause,
To change the way we acted
And to shout down the rest;
To face the demagogues
Then put them to the test.
We stopped wearing uniforms
That said we went along
With the hard-assed leaders.
We put a lot of it in our songs.
We called them what they were
Greedy warmongering ******
We protested and picketed
And promised so much more.
We spoke out loudly on TV
And in crowds in the streets
That we were through will genocide
And would not accept defeat.
We cried out that our government
Had assumed the role of villain
And was murdering for no reason
Not just men, but even children.
But, we let it all die down;
We let the government slide
On investigating the truth
And keeping the truth inside
A carefully chosen batch of
Criminals in public office.
We let them go on making war
And making money off us.
We let them cheat and lie
And re-write acceptable laws
To support their bloodthirstiness
And we gave up on our cause.
Maybe all that protesting gave
All our marching feet limps.
Or maybe it’s because all along
We were just a bunch of wimps.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
the screen
the keyboard
the small room
the closed door
locked door
closed window
blinders keeping
the sun away
a chair
an empty stomach
protesting against
tequila
more tequila
ready
you can write now
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 7:56 AM UTC
There is a bright light
That which leads to a bike
An enchanting, gravitating and inticing light
I found myself reaching for it
Then there was thunder
Which was followed by rain
Heavy, threatning rain
I retreated
I felt defeated
The surrender and defeat, however could not withstand
My gravitation towards the bike
Then, there was raging thunder
And heavy, presistent protesting rain
As I reached for the bike
The rain became more enraged
But it could not withstand
My desire
My strong desire
To ride away
With the wind blowing in my face
I grabbed the bike
The rain ceased
And I rode and rode away
Away from the dark clouds
I splashed into the puddles as I peadled
I felt the sting of the water on my legs
There were many many puddles
Im my path there was a hill
A very steep hill
And I saw a light at the top
An enchanting, gravitating and inticing light
I peadled, peadled and peadled
My feet began to ache
My knees began to inflame
And sweat found home across my forehead
The bike laid almost still on the hill
Barely moving an inch
Yet my body felt like it had rode across the world
The gears were changed
Yet the distance was not
My control of the bike was lost
I rolled away, away and away
Backwards
I fell at the bottom of the hill with a thud
A loud thud of defeat
And bruises of failure
I blamed the rain
There was nothing I could've done
The rain stood in my way
Eliminated the friction
My ticket to the light
I laid there
Then I got up
Rode the bike up the hill
I fell again
And again I got up
And again I fell
And again I got up
And again I fell
Until the bright morning sun
Transformed into a blazing sunset
After many falls
After many bruises
I was again on the steep hill
Peadling, peadling and peadling
Until I saw the light
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 9:56 PM UTC
glowing waters, tranquil as though the ocean were holding its breath
and yet breathing in and out, in and out
rhythmic, an inexorable drum
an explosion of ripples as I drop the kayak in,
the disturbances swallowed by marsh grass, waving in protest
murmuring to be still, stay still.
I shift in my seat, heartbeat in my ears, loud breathing
scared of being swallowed, lost to depths where darkness clung –
yet hardly imaginable in this world of dripping sunlight.
dip the paddle in, tasting the waters
right, left, right, left
cautious, careful, clumsy at first
splashes of droplets as I pick up the pace,
salt on my tongue, tasting the burn.
the pull and tug of muscle against the world, a silent war
the ocean protesting futilely, but
surrendering to the kayak with a creaking moan
as I shoot through the water like an arrow, splitting the curling, white-crested sea.
the wind picks at my braid and throws it to the past with a lingering sigh
my paddles cutting through that glossy mirror of cloud and sunshine
shards of brilliantly stained glass.
Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 10:38 PM UTC
O America, wake up from your dream.
Your top of the hill
Perception.
I plead, awake.
Awaken from your false beliefs, your
Warped view of the world.
Believing it is yours to buy and
Consume, while others starve.
O America, I see your shadow,
Cast over your deprived. A desperate
Attempt to hide the desperate,
The lost and the depraved.
The waste of your creation,
Left to wallow in the filth of
Your existence. The broken
Pieces of your people. Invisible
to your people.
O America, I see your wretched youth.
Apathetic and sadistic, desensitized by
Your lifestyle. Enslaved by your media
to buy any which way.
Your whorish children, your joke of a generation.
Raised like cattle in shameful schools, reared in
Broken homes. Self destructive and stupid.
O America, turn off your television prophets,
Preaching their gospel of guilt in exchange for
Credit card numbers. Bastardizing science
And teaching bigotry.
Protesting human rights and feeding fallacies,
Indoctrinating children with fearful remorse.
Extorting their sheep to build their steeples,
Making sin out of human nature.
O America, I pray,
Wake up from your nightmare.
Before you collapse upon yourself, before
You're swallowed by your unfeedable mouth.
Arise, before you die. Cut the strings that
Manipulate you like a puppet. Reject society,
The cultural cancer.
O state of damnation, awake.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC
Protest it.
Unless you employed by the government.
Rules are totally different.
If officers violate the laws they serving to protect us.
Stand up for your rights to protest.
We in America not one of that dictatorship country.
Why?
Do people feel athletes can't protest?
They go on strike for various things not right to them.
Not one stated the protesting the anthem.
Not one.
They protesting injustice.
And rightly so.
So fans are mad than many probably never saw the youth that protested in the sixties against a war.
Whether you agree or don't.
Always stand up for your rights.
So a so-called billionaire never paid taxes and won't reveal his income tax forms using idle threats.
The only one filling the role of kiss-up is the owners.
Without comprehending, if there is a sporting showdown the most likely won't win.
Most likely to be the losers when Coke, Pepsi, Nike, Papa John and host of others clients profits fall.
A business suffers highly when there no solution solved.
Most fans that go to a sporting event are a great majority of whites and be the ones crying the louder.
If ever done wrong and need attention to get people on board.
You protest, you stand up and stand out.
A small church pastor rose to be great by taking on a segregated system.
The only one mad about tearing segregation is who?
The race need not be mention for a majority hardly stand up for anything.
Well, unless it's the NRA.
Even with violence in school from high powered weapons.
There they go defending the NRA.
And the weapons they protesting against isn't truly needed unless you at war.
But they standing up for their rights.
So players, stand up for your rights.
For CBS/ESPN/ABC/NBC stands to lose too.
If a majority of players stand strong against wrong.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 11:45 PM UTC
a calendar
lies in the corner of a table,
forgotten,
two weeks into the New Year,
its simple pencil sketch at the top
showing at an angle.
late at night
a noise can be heard from that corner,
the sound of protesting sobs,
and a little voice
can be picked out here and there,
"all the other calendars
had pretty scenes
of mountain lakes and forest glades.
now they are all gone.
someone has taken them
to hang on their wall.
and I am still lying here.
nobody wants me.
my big, clumsy letters
are clear and dark.
a child could read them.
and my large, awkward boxes
have plenty of writing space.
I am the best calendar around
and could help someone greatly
in their struggle
to remember their place in time,
if only someone would stay long enough
to see what I am
and not what I look."
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 4:36 PM UTC
On my way home from work
I passed by a *****
In a tent-sized, plain orange t-shirt.
It was forever-stained
With fossilised fluids;
A chest cavity of spilt milk,
And subsequent tears.
A double-take took me
To the green and brown keratin
That dragged relentlessly over concrete.
His sloth paws were protesting
Every step of grey existence,
In the colourful expanse of new morning;
They were clawing the ground
And submitting to gravity.
He looked right on through me,
Through everyone and everything
As if part of a hologram
That was no happier, but at least
Apart. I re-count his limbs to ensure
Whether he is even human anymore.
I surmise: only partially.
He milks his palms whenever possible
To heal the cracks of wind exposure
And old substance abuse.
This was no doorstep lounger;
He was a stray cat with no freedom,
And only washed his hair when it rained.
Then, as I later adjust my mask
In the foggy bathroom mirror,
Mind preoccupied with dissertations,
Affectations and payment schedules,
I realise that it is I who has lost my humanity.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
i usually try
to start work
at 09:00
but today
a streak of sun
across the middle
of the floor
was so appealing
i had to lie
stretched out
and splayed
in that pool
of warmth
within seconds
of being down
the dog nosed
at my ear
and slumped
at my side
his chin resting
on my arm
perhaps
seeking closeness
the comfort of
my presence
or maybe
simply protesting
a hint that he wished
to stretch out
where i was lay
as clouds crept
across the sky
to steal our sunlight
he shifted his weight
let out a deep-lunged sigh
but stayed at my side
Apr 13, 2023
Apr 13, 2023 at 11:46 AM UTC
There were flashing lights,
lasers, where we met.
There was loud music
and cheap drinks.
I found myself with the three of you,
only one of whom I'd met before.
That was the year I only wore plaid, mostly.
I was protesting make up at the time,
a leftover idea from my two year flowerchild period.
You were arrogant as ever,
self involved ****
with great taste in music.
I remember in all the conversations that followed
you'd compliment my impeccably perfect playlists.
I digress.
You stayed away from me that night,
let me hit on your friends.
But you got me that shirt.
I still wear it.
I had forgotten that night for over a year.
Even when I saw you next,
I didn't remember you.
I didn't remember you
and that has always bothered me.
I don't forget people.
I just don't.
Especially since it was both our first night out with that crowd.
You remembered me though.
And I'll never know why
I forgot and you remembered.
But now you forget me,
and I never shall forget you.
I promise you I'll never forget you.
And if you recall,
I don't break my promises to those I love.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
To be perfectly honest this was one of the more difficult poems to string together for the sheer fear of possibly jinxing it,
as there appears to be a pattern to every story involving a boy and me lately,
which begins with the same overrated butterflies in the stomach sensation followed by a poem,
sleepless nights, cigarettes, ***** and a tragic ending.
So having reached the poem stage my instincts and the part of my brain receptive to pain are already bracing themselves,
I can feel them clenching in my gut.
As this three nights stand situation burns the lines between a ***** call, friendship with benefits and something to the extent of a budding romance,
my expectations are protesting against being so fiercely oppressed,
frankly they are getting out of control,
as the dislike of not wanting to be clingy, chivalry of not wanting to subdue to any labels nor the fear of yet another heartbreak itself,
are no longer sufficient to keep these rising hopes in place.
Ironically, when I think of you I think more of who I become when I'm with you, than actually you,
even though I do sincerely adore you. Very much.
I'm bemused by how comfortable I feel in my own skin,
naked and burnished, next to your warm, ivory touch.
Each time you trail your fingers down my body and take in a quick breath as if you were seeing me for the very first time,
I treasure the look in your eyes for later in the week when the going gets tough.
I idolize your rough, blistered, bleeding palms with all its calluses for they mirror my own much subtle bruises,
representing our shared interest, commitment, strength and transformation.
Your new found superpower to completely eradicate my necessity to socially smoke when socializing with you, speaks for itself really,
and we haven't even got to the laughter, the banter, the top notch sarcasm, the conversation, the warmest embrace,
breakfast ending in a ridiculously serious spectacle of coffee making,
which I thoroughly enjoy from the best seat in the kitchen wearing your shirt which fits me far more perfectly,
and the skip in my step as I head home.
So when the day comes for the revolution, of my expectations, overthrowing this rather tiresome governance of fear,
I just might pop the question, will you be my forever one night stand? ,
in the hope that you might just say yes...
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 4:19 PM UTC
my mind tends to ooze with a negativity
that leaks out & into my already searing
and prolonged wounds;
within this ragged & treacherous steam of consistency
I find myself laid out upon the very gravelish grounds
that I goofishly juggle with on a lazen basis
sometimes there
sometimes here
but a lot of times just nowhere at all.
where I disappear to I couldn’t be sure,
the empty screen in front of & behind me
don’t speak of much
but they do tend to catch my demiseful falls
every now & then;
seems these cavernous valleys have a soothing touch
to them,
a loosely held comfort that I know
better than I seem to know myself at times
and at times I wonder
what I am supposed to be protesting
within these grotesqueful lines
of a beautifully laid out tragedy,
for even here I do not feel
within the bounds of my own mental safety nets
but maybe an unthoughtful falling & tumbling
will do me some good?
to be comfortable with my own deathly summons,
I write to edge the demons within
to a borderline of both peace & content,
for truthfully no set of letters
can taint me as much as I might allow them too
although I can tend to lean towards the waywards
of an apathetic crustacean
through my own carelessness & ill suited
self brought upon lonesomeness
…
sometimes I cannot tell what is right,
or maybe best is a better way to put it.
for I long for a connection of connections
and equally equivalent siphonings,
but many a times I seem to find
that my end of the line has gone stale,
quiet, a desperate yet eerie monotoned scale
of solemn notes left to ring in the ears
of those who are strongly enough
to take the time to hear,
and for those that are not afraid to stare
deeply into their own darkened & blazeful caverns,
I am forever grateful.
Oct 7, 2022
Oct 7, 2022 at 2:14 PM UTC
For far too long we have been victims of police brutality.
We came in peace but got treated like criminals on the 21st of October.
These are the very same men and women who we trust to protect us.
But they failed us dismally, barricaded us from expressing our concerns.
You could see the visuals all on TV, it was all too hard to believe.
The revolution will not be fully televised, it will be tweeted.
For far too long we’ve accepted the government’s mediocrity.
For far too long we’ve been victims of police brutality.
Your teargas, rubber bullets and stun grenades will never stop us.
Our parents were sold dreams in 1994, we’re just here for the refund.
Now it’s time to finally bump the cheese up, so what’s the hold-up for?
History is repeating itself in South Africa, what a time to be alive.
They’ve become worse than their oppressors but they won’t oppress us.
Sorry for the inconvenience, we are just trying to change the world.
We will keep protesting in Jo’burg, Pretoria and Cape Town until we’re heard.
There’s no amount of police brutality that can dampen our spirits and no gun you make can **** our souls.
Our parents were sold dreams in 1994, we’re just here for the refund.
Now it’s time to finally bump the cheese up, so why is there a hold-up?
Hold up, we’re tired of being victims of hate, fate and police brutality.
We came in peace but got treated like criminals on the 23rd of October.
For far too long we’ve accepted the government’s mediocrity.
Your riot police, rubber bullets and stun grenades will never stop us.
Sorry for the inconvenience, we are just trying to change the world.
When burning buildings come down, I just hope you’ll be ready for us all.
When burning buildings come down, we will effortlessly heed the call.
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 6:21 AM UTC
Walls, colored like vanilla,
melt against the ribbons of gray
that the cinnamon red flames breathe.
slowly, each exhale works as the tempo.
one-two-three-four-five
slow slow quick-quick slow
get on step, J, you're off again.
b r e a t h e
I taste freedom as I spin,
the air burns like alcohol,
it tells me
"pick your poison, J,
choose wisely,
and we'll show you who you are."
but I'm so tired of being
them.
so I'll sway until the traits
slither down my body,
curling around my ankle
before sneaking into never again.
I'll mix my being with the acid
gripping onto the shadows as I tilt back,
demons will nip at my neck when my
hair brushes the floor,
with my body bent,
hands clutching Hades' shoulders,
I let out a cry.
He tells me I'll get better.
we'll spin
like lies, rumors, thoughts,
we'll ****** our feet, and stomp out the pain,
the flickering will shade,
and there will be nothing but the sound
of my dancing
protesting, landing, ordering
against, on, to
the ground,
demanding to be seen, heard, known.
I'll leap across,
pressing my body close enough to Death
that I can tell you
She's just as lovely as Lust,
and She'll twirl me
until the radiation I've encountered
slathers the wall.
I'll heave until I collapse,
becoming nothing but
a heap of avoidance.
part one of
my tango.
Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 9:53 PM UTC
I love a woman,
who's not afraid to speak her mind
who ain't afraid of the up-shots
In 1960 women burnt their bras
protesting and debated for equal rights
I have no time for women with weak links
they could loosen the chain
before they could really think
If you choose to be strong
stay strong, be confident:
Do not let your fears choose your destiny
Never let anyone senses your fear
or even drove you to the verge of tears..
I have no tolerance for a strange brew
idealism and self-interest
it defies me, and somehow
it make me uncivil,
but I am a woman of dignity
However, if you want to rolled with me
You have to be strong,
no wee, wee ,wee little crotch -less *****
Heartless.. for heaven sake I am not
I am just a ******** notch from the block
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 9:29 AM UTC
It happened when I left home,
that I came across this fact;
Summer was murdered
and I didn’t care.
Like the never ceasing ticks of a cheap watch,
merciless protesting, and I play the conservative
atop a mountain of **** [I can’t save anything].
I left home a loser and came back a martyr.
I am vulgarity and purity in the same essence.
I bleed and I congeal. I am the prodigal son
with bleeding extremities and a worn mind.
I’ve seen so very much.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
Blood splatters
White devil
Black angel
Killed by the devil
Debatable sentence
Death sentence or a couple of years?
Killed a brother
But it's debatable
If our brother got a death sentence and 8 shots in the back
It's only right if you get a death sentence
Can the government protect our brothers and our sisters?
AmeriKKKa government can not protect us because it was not made for us
But we can change that
We have to keep on fighting
We have to keep on protesting
We have to keep on studying
We have to get in the office
We have to get these law degrees
We have to become governors
We have to win
Because we've been losing
We've gotten so far
But not that far
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC
At first pain
Then first breath
Life awakens to Life,
Embarking
With tears protesting
This first Change.
Then growth starts
A new mind mapping charts
Mastering wind, making waves
Learning like lightning
And wondering Whys.
In a world so vast
Each sensation overwhelms;
Each second impossible and new.
This world is yours
But you can't have it all
The first sorrow subtly reflected in you.
Jul 29, 2010
Jul 29, 2010 at 9:32 PM UTC
so you call yourself pro-life
okay, I guess I can pretend to respect that
which then means that you must also
respect the fact that I am very loudly pro-choice
and thanks to science
I know that a bundle of cells
and a living child are not the same thing
because an actual fetus is not fully formed
until the third trimester
and by fully formed I mean that it is
for all intents and purpose alive
but before that
there is nothing but a group of cells
there is no brain
no heart
not even pearly pink fingernails
so now what, huh?
you’re probably going to keep protesting
Planned Parenthood and harassing the people
that work there, right?
because all that Planned Parenthood does
is condone the vicious and inhumane ******
of defenseless, unborn children, right?
right?
either way, you don’t care about the child
once they’re born
all that you care about is making a woman
and other individuals who have a ******
carry this thing that is literally feeding off of them
and why should a child be brought into this world
if the circumstances through which it was
conceived are non-consensual?
because, if you really did care
if you really were “pro-life”
then you would care about the child
after it is born
or better yet
you could turn your attention and time and money
and anger to all the millions of orphans living
in the US
ya know, the living children?
with no homes?
with no parents?
packed like sardines in orphanages?
what about them?
do they not matter because they are not a group
of cells, and therefore not defenseless?
and therefore they do not matter?
because,
if you only care about that bundle of cells
and because some states actually make women
and those with uteruses
have funerals for the aborted “child”
then by default whenever a man
masturbates and then **********
shouldn’t he be made to have a separate
funeral for each of the thousands of children
that he just killed?
because one of them could have cured cancer, ******
and tell me
when I was still menstruating
should I have said “amen”
over all the potential children that bled out
of my body and into the pad
and the sides of my boxers?
should I have
said “grace” over all the
little pad mummies that I threw away?
should I have cried when I flushed
the ****** toilet paper?
because,
since I have a ******
how dare I want and feel as if I should
be owed control over my own body, right?
how dare I believe that
each and every woman
biological and otherwise
have a say in what they do with their body
how dare I be pro-choice, right?
well, let me knock you down
a few pegs with this closing statement:
if you only care about the “child” when it is
just a group of cells that doesn’t feel a **** thing
and couldn’t care less about it
once it is born
and homeless
or an orphan
or queer
then you are not “pro-life”
what you are
is an *******
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 10:12 PM UTC