"sorority" poems
Like a male monkey you rises up
And thumps hard your chest-it is you and you only!
O Man! You forgets, who you are and what you are is Nature’s
She generously gives and she avariciously takes-
Just a few chances she is giving you to repent before she ruthlessly returns
She is a sharp, doubled edged sword-merciful and merciless!
Man, Humanity is not hostility: Humanity is humility!
Like Sheol that is never satisfied you want to swallow the whole world
Like death you want to take everything, big-small-you want to stomach all
Everything you want to keep to yourself, to be to your entitlements
You take and leave nothing at all for the harmless hopeless-the voiceless
Yet you easily forgets, when the angel of death calls it’s only you and your soul in burials
Your ill amassed pride, wealth and health is not with you anywhere in this your brutal trials
Man, Humanity is not gullibility: Humanity is generosity!
O man! O man! You fills the whole world with mortality
You have killed the sole essence of the soul’s endless immortality
With your undignified dishonesty, your free-will to filthy immorality
War you begins wealthy to get-war is a supernormal profiting business
Man, Humanity souls has never been subjects to severity but sanctity!
Innocent-as little as little children-you murders-they were inevitable!
Common civilians’ deaths are collateral damages-inescapable!
You forgets who you are-you are a little loaned, little you returns for judgment
Here no allies to look after your backs, no cracks to corruption kickbacks-
It is the fairest of all hearings, a ***** for a ***** it is not for a big spoon!
Man, Humanity is not ignobility: Humanity is dignity!
What you are given to govern you governs not
What you are given to take care of you pilfers all
For you and your lineages eternal legacies-the richest ever to have graced the earth!
Yet you forgets, Master a little while returns to put you to a rigorous account
And whoever much is given-that much is also expected, what will be your report?
Man, Humanity is not royalty: Humanity is loyalty!
Humanity is a community, not a sorority of individuality!
Humanity is not infidelity: Humanity is honesty
Humanity is not how wealthy: Humanity is how a loyal legacy
Humanity is not how large is your multinationals entity:
Humanity is how huge is your small heart-its hospitality
Humanity is a humble history, a saintly story!
© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 1:23 AM UTC
is a carniverous cemetery,
is a pacifier,
is a dry **** on a friday night,
is only enough liquor to get you buzzed,
is a ****** bag cop,
is a church with splintered pews,
is sinners scared shitless,
is a two-year-old with an affinity for violence,
is my ex-girlfriend,
is paranoid,
is a blanket of all your favorite prescription pills,
is worried sorority girls in dark-wash jeans,
is unshaved,
is a cancer,
is a perpetual spell-check,
is lonely,
is my mother
and a god-awful toothache.
Oct 21, 2010
Oct 21, 2010 at 11:42 AM UTC
A secret society founded as a dark, heavy rainstorm
loomed menacingly one night in November of 1888
over Boston University; Sarah Ida Shaw,
Eleanor Dorcas Pond, Isabel Morgan Breed
& Florence Isabelle Stewart sneaking in their
nightgowns into the dusty attic where Florence
swore she had seen three black cats sitting
in the rocking chairs talking; to humor their friend,
the others followed her up into the dark attic:
meaning only to frighten Florence, Eleanor
pulled a kitchen knife; the uncomprehending
Isabel & Sarah forcing the terrified [so they thought]
Florence to her knees; while there, eating the *****
of the knife-wielding Eleanor, who raising her stiff
nightgown told the others to do likewise until they all
were satisfied, shouting - meow meow meow meow -
old lady Murphy hollering up the attic steps: 'who's up there?'
the three girl giggling their little heads off running
past her down the stairs; Florence nearly tripping,
coming down a few moments later, also grinning
but silently to herself.
'what are u girls doing up there?' -
'playing w/ the cats,' said Flo, slipping past her;
'Cats! Cats!' shouted the old witch, rushing up the
stairs raising her broom [from that evening Delta Delta Delta (ΔΔΔ)
has met to lick talking black cats in secret college sorority rituals]
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
Name: Falen Acon
Residence: San Diego California
Age: 15 (almost 16)
Birthday: Jan 4, 2000 (Capricorn)
School: Don't worry about it!
Grade: 10th (Sophomore)
Class Of: 2018
Favorite Color: Ballet Pink, Gun Metal Gold and Burgundy
Favorite Flower: Wild Flowers, Roses & Sunflowers
Hobbies: Dancing and Poetry
Favorite Food: Pizza
Favorite Drink: Strawberry and Root Beer Soda
Favorite Dessert: Ice Cream (Shakes) (any flavor)
Happy Place (place that makes me happy): Beach or Dance Studio
Career Path: Professional Dancer
Lucky Day: Saturday
Lucky Number: 3
Favorite Number: 7
Friends: Christan Zeal, Elsa Angelica and Drevon Young
Goals: Find true love, Find happiness and Travel World
Favorite Artists: Lana Del Rey, The Weeknd, Drake, PartyNextDoor, Post Malone, ILoveMakonnen, Rae Sremmurd, RDGLDGRN, Kyle, A.$.A.P Rocky, G-Eazy and Zayn Malik
Celebrity Crushes: Zayn Malik, Justin Bieber, RED (from RDGLDGRN) and Steph Curry (GSW)
Favorite NBA Team: Golden State Warriors (GSW)
Favorite NFL Team: North Carolina Panthers
Favorite MLB Team: Chicago Cubs
Favorite College Football Team: LSU Tigers
Favorite Nascar Driver: Kasey Kahne
Future College: Texas State University (TSU) or Something :)
Future Sorority: Delta Sigma Theta (DST) /_\
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
Star soldier with the rocket arm,
you bleed silver, gold,
and product placement.
Smile big for the camera,
the media will sell its soul
for a new bankable face.
Party hardy, Heisman candidate,
******** your semi-steady's
sorority sister,
then ask to see her again
sometime after the **** kit.
It's quite alright,
so long as you have talent
beyond this hemisphere.
Why even the fatherland, ESPN,
will gladly call you "son."
Mar 9, 2021
Mar 9, 2021 at 11:37 AM UTC
I live my life in extremes
Polar opposites attract in the center of my soul
And for some reason, living on opposite ends
Seems to be a fashion trend
I am not the "I made out with every girl in my college sorority
So now I'm bisexual" type of queer
Not to out-and-proud vomiting rainbows type of bisexuality
I am the bisexuality that gets erased
The eighth grade girl who, when she told her first boyfriend she was queer,
He told her she was over dramatic and crazy.
I am the bisexuality that gets oppressed
Because I am confined to the walls of a shrinking closet
Or is it expanding?
I have lost my sense of left or right
Up or down
Yes or no.
I am not your manic pixie dream girl type of bipolar
Not the girl who needs saving from her mental illness
Not drowning.
I am the bipolar disorder that becomes overwhelming
The depression that chains me to my bed in the morning
The hypomania that seems euphoric, but is never happy
The grey area, the lone horizon, the empty space in the middle
Seems like something I drive through over the speed limit
Every day of my life.
While my extremes do not look good on your favorite actress
They look beautiful on me.
Not an outfit I can strip down when it goes out of style
Not a channel I can change when it is not appealing anymore
But I will learn to love my fluctuations
My mood pendulum
My love pendulum
I am swinging from state to state
But at least I am flying
Instead of falling.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 11:59 PM UTC
Lady adjacent waiter,
ruler of the medulla,
give me a certain angle
that'll make her want to maneuver,
make her want to consider
in the absence of his figure,
that maybe not the whole gender
is full of secret agendas,
with her left over right leg,
glass in her right hand,
a tribute to her innocence
ever since she walked in,
assembled it's, white wine
Krispy Kreme eyes,
glazed look,
lips glossed like her oil thighs,
it's finally off time
her sorority cross line,
it's happy hour,
she wasn't,
his whole crime has been a cover up
since she wants him,
this whole scene has been taped off
by her girlfriends,
it's often I see it,
alcoholic rehab,
a culprit — a demon
making contracts with my open tab,
broken bad in the bathroom,
clad woman,
For all the attention
such good first impressions,
but not you,
I feel a different aura,
I feel I'll get exposed
so I call a different offense,
Semper Fi
within my eyes
this energy —
I quiet the restaurant,
Can you hear me?
Proceed to throwing signals
Tom Brady couldn't throw,
the ball's in my court so I'm finally on the move,
crushing on you while the sky undresses,
you catch a glimpse
as the clouds bare witness,
Excuse me Miss Unfortunate,
I know I'm at a disadvantage
but I had to call it
head or tails
I'm still offering,
a chance to be your man? No
a chance to be your author?
a chance to be your narrator now or later
call me,
a chance to say “there she is”
her piercing eyes, fixes her finger on my lips
be quiet, “I saw this in a movie once”
she told me as I spy and I grab onto her truths,
excuse me thats selfish, pardon me
apart of me just wants to see that movie,
a father daughter dance,
a chance to be your groupie,
a chance to see that smile
that you flashed
like a lunar star,
meteor crash
and its back to reality,
eye connection broken
and it’s back to the irony,
a word barely spoken
and I’m back to asking:
Check Please.
Sep 6, 2023
Sep 6, 2023 at 3:12 PM UTC
*Soul is the sole sanctuary
A sojourn for serenity
A soulful journey starts
And sorority with peaceful self
Salvaging the soul from strife*
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
What am I even doing?
This process seems so pointless
Smiles and charities
We all know it's about the drinking
and the ***
And the coke.
(don't forget the coke)
These girls aren't your friends
they're side-by-side failed clones that
strive to give you validation
excreting words that
you will never need.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
"I got them old bones man"
There shakin’
And there rattlin’
These demons
I’m battlin’
Time
Is unraveled in
Sin, desperation, disbelief
Misconduct and mischief
Stretching
Feels like a prison camp
For old men
Where all those old men do
Is stretch
My body is a concern as my mind
wanders,
And ponders,
And potentially acts, on
large acts of
greatness
and I bear witness
to future bewilderment
that has already past
but lingers,
and fingers,
the ******* blame
on my ***
I wanna live a life of positive affirmations
That’s what I feel is happenin’ you know what im’ sayin
And I keep playin
Games I love and things that I believe
Goals not yet not accomplished
And new one’s I wanna achieve
And a New year brings new things
Don’t break your dreams
Don’t undervalue and don’t leave
Places you don’t want to be
Don’t be a double negative
Take advantages of openings and opportunities
Don’t be a hypocrite and you will completely agree
All those good things
Your gonna do more of in a new year
No matter how niave, egocentric or misadvised…
… in someone else’s eyes
Have no fear
share your gifts
and create your gifts
don’t buy them,
and if you buy them
don’t buy them at walmart
or in malls or in big cities
Everything I ever wish to write
Is an anthem to change the world
And the revolution starts
As soon as I change
As soon as I arrange my priorities
**** the majority
Start a brother/sister sorority,
And I will put down this beer,
Quit a job that doesn’t matter
And put my energy
Into passions and emergencies
And change the world
By meditating
Saying some kind words about myself
With my eyes closed
While deeply breathing
And exploring galaxies with ease
The entire universe…
… I think I Am going back to university
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 3:25 AM UTC
And they all taste cotton candy sweet
While I am the bitter aftermath of cigarettes smoke
Because when you're a mallard in a sea of swans
You start praying for the echo of gun shots proclaiming duck season
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC
a thigh gap
a peering spine
a cat eye
a cerulean highlighter
all of this and more
all of this, yours
21 mind-blowing *** tricks
5 ways to convince your doc you've ADHD
all of this and more
hack your closet
hack your pantry
your cellar door
all of this, yours
an e-thank you note
Facebook status remorse
an it's complicated
all of this and more
self-checkout
automatic hand dryer
automatic towel dispenser
automatic doors
all of this, yours
ask Siri where to bury the body
ask Jeeves where to buy the Molly
Google "the triumph of death"
and salute it with Bacardi
all of this
all of this
42 celebrities who used to have braces
8 Instagram hotties we love
42 gin recipes sure to inspire envy
all of this and more
how to love yourself
how to be a gentleman
how to make sure you marry the one
all of this yours
******* that read Angel Off Duty
boxers that read Reporting for Duty
ride the escalator all the way to
Jesus's heaven
fist bump Little Richard
and that kid from Malcolm in the Middle
watch St. Peter wave all the **** sorority girls
who've recently died in drunk driving accidents
to the front of the line
breathe, in from the nose out from the nose,
pick up a copy of Men's Health and read
an article titled
69 ways to incorporate gravy into the bedroom TONIGHT
all of this and more
all of this, yours
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC
The soul starts off pure and humble,
unscathed from the thoughts of man.
But then we grow up and we begin to mold,
trying anything just to fit the plan.
But why must i be in a box
when i know i'm undefinable?
It scares people not to label me
they feel vulnerable and viable.
I'm not a punk i'm not a ****
i'm not anything that i do.
The only thing i really am
is undefinable to you.
And if that really scares you
and you have to label me,
then please choose not to focus on
that which doesn't define me.
I'm not the clubs i do
or even the music i choose to hear,
i'm not the guy i hooked up with last night
or the movie that brings me to tears.
What i am is much more deeper than that.
Its what i choose between whats right and wrong,
and maybe the special lyrics i like
from my very favorite song.
We're all a bunch of different things,
and experiences, and pain.
But to try to box us into categories
just seems downright insane.
i really just don't understand,
does it scare you i'm not like the rest?
not a sorority girl
not a hipster
not an activist at a protest.
one thing i will protest though
is smooshing me into a box.
because i really won't fit anywhere
i'm eternally, utterly lost.
but not the kind of lost you get
when you have somewhere to go
i'm the kind of lost thats wander
and i'm not really lost at all.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
It's Friday night at the sorority house.
You struggle to find the perfect blouse.
For the party of the year is happening tonight.
So you make sure everything is completely right.
Subtlety was left with your coat at the door.
I'd expect nothing less from a party-hopping *****
I've no place to judge if promiscuity be your choice.
But it's the same decision that makes my friends rejoice.
Your claws sink in to the first bro you see.
Tonight he is everything you want him to be.
Muscular, tall, and a great head of hair.
You hardly notice him pretend to care.
You leave the party and end up at his place.
His pretentious lines cause a smile on your face.
Then he brings his mouth close to your lips.
Not the ones on your face but those between your hips.
As you lay in his bed, your hair quite the mess.
The words you uttered for those to bless.
You ask yourself if there's anything better.
Than being a mark on his varsity letter.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 3:13 AM UTC
I Am Like My Mother
In more ways than one,
I am like my mother....
This stands before anything else:
My family is my priority
I preach to respect seniority
But, sometimes I go soft
Upon hearing pleas from little voices.
My life is replete with family albums,
Sturdy wood furnitures that have lived
Through the years, and most importantly,
Old family traditions my siblings and I
Learned from my mother.
I would prefer for these to be observed
By the succeeding generations,
Where love and kindness to others,
Table manners and saying graces are only
A few of those lessons most often stressed.
The children in my family,
Thy grew up the way I was raised.
Humility is practiced at an early age,
Where no child speaks when not spoken to,
And helping with the chores is a must...
They are taught early on in their childhood
As soon as they are able to understand...
We have a God, our Creator,
To whom we should always be grateful to....
From Him comes all our countless blessings...
My sisters and I...
We are like a sorority.
Hopefully, the other women in my family
Would eventually realize,
There is an expectation
That my mother's ways should be kept going...
This, my sisters and I would make sure of.
Each morning, my mother would look around
The whole house and its boundaries,
With both her arms akimbo.
Now, it is I who does the surveying,
But, with my hands clasped behind me.
Front, back and sides of the house
All kinds of plants and trees surround...
I make sure they are all green and lush.
Fruit trees and flowering plants in the summer,
Several wild flowers do sprout all year round,
To grace our lives through all kinds of weather.
My mother and I, we had an implied agreement,
We didn't discuss it, never brought it up
In any family gatherings.
It just happened that I knew her so well.
Now that I'm older, I've never been so sure...
I am like my mother,
In more ways than one...
(Written August 28, 2013)
Sally
Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
I should have beat your *** last Tuesday,
spit in your face, and right-hooked
your loose jaw.
Instead, I pressed my fists deeper
into my things
while you ******* at me
like a sorority girl on Adderall.
After all, it would be hard
to give me that snide smile,
if you didn’t have any teeth.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 2:54 PM UTC
Through sleepless night my demon plays
A discreet prelude soundless and damp
Only to show the song it never able to sing
For its voice was tombstone as heavy as life
They said, find a demon who walks with yours
And since we can neither walk nor sing a song
We shall exchange letters in various forms
I will write my blood into words and yours into notes
And in the letters you sent to me at night
Are countable melodies that turn into bats
Which morph my nocturnal agony into dreamless ballad
With uncertainty of a sincerity I can never pay back
We are in different worlds but our demons are in the same
It was your countless letters of wordless phrases
Which keep us sane in a dying perfumed universe
Of self-abhorrence and longing never attained
And in my contemplation towards my ancient lover still
I came to reek that immortality and eternity
Are just unrequited sorrow for stories and blatant history
Of unfathomed longing never has been fulfilled
In a sorority painted by degraded hopes
Nothing mattered anymore as long as we walk
Upon the different dreams and on the same pavements
Caged by cracking skin and melted bones
And when we meet again in the letters
Or in outnumbered dreams
I hope it would be a blessed hell
Instead of broken old tales
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 5:44 AM UTC
Thinking back to Thomas creek and sneaking a peak at the freaky little tweaker
in blown out sneakers a toothless mistress second guessing ******
thrift dressed house guest ******* up my speakers blown out woofer
wolfing down dinner mad slurping curry a beginner at twister
her sister, disaster, got caught ******* the Doberman.. unable to find sobriety
got gang ***** at the sorority doing an impression of Brad Dougherty
shoes to tall falling all wobbly knees knocking hostilely like a rasta in Montgomery
racially outcast Big Boi with a skin tare lash with passion unfashionable bastions
with rashes wear red sashes like Communist fascists I‘m a pacifist with a speeding fist
ready to dis any resistor to this transistor radio I eat filet-minion with boxers on
my mind be gone, like, no one’s home and this body roams all alone
with a ***** I’m a stoner, a postponer, ***** donor, out on loan
bought and paid for, caught with a lawnmower, impersonating a horn blower
like I was Gillespie at the Filmore, or Apollo theatre as a greater Walmart style
wearing a wife beater, not a reader, sort of a ******* not like Kim, more like
a mosquit-er drinking blood like it’s from a hummingbird feeder.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 6:03 PM UTC
I’m sure it’ll be a great party
even though I’m dressed like a Barbie
it’s all in good fun
I won’t drink more than one
and they probably won’t even card me.
I’m sure the flyers aren’t serious
the cover girls all look delirious
the guys all wear suits
while the women “let loose”
but I can’t justify the criteria.
I’m sure it was one great big joke
the way your fraternal friends spoke
it wasn’t the way
you called me your bae
it’s just that I’ve never been groped.
I’m sure it wasn’t your fault
and it wasn’t really assault
so let’s just forget
the ***** and the sweat
and take it with a grain of salt.
I’m sure there’s nothing to fear
and in nine months to a year
we’ll give in to fate
and when you graduate
we can shack up and share a career.
Now I’m sure I was being naive
turns out your name wasn’t Steve
and all the support
you swore not to retort
leaves me nothing to do but to grieve.
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 2:36 AM UTC
Jean Bartel, born Jean Bartlemeh;
on October 26, 1923 & died March 6, 2011;
Miss California and Miss America 1943;
She won the talent and swimsuit awards
at the national pageant. At 5 feet 8 inches tall,
Bartel was the tallest winner up to that time;
Jean Bartel was the first college student
to win the title of Miss America & after
visiting her sorority sisters in Kappa Kappa Gamma
around the country, she developed the idea
of awarding scholarships to those who competed;
The Miss America Organization is now
the world's largest provider of scholarships
for women in the world;
Bartel worked for many years on Broadway
and in television, including starring in her own
travel series, It's a Woman's World, as well as
performing for seven months in South America;
She appeared in an episode of The Love Boat
in 1984, w/ Marian McKnight,
Miss America, 1957;
Nancy Fleming,
Miss America, 1961;
& Vanessa Williams,
Miss America, 1984.
Bartel died in Brentwood, California,
on March 6, 2011, aged 87; The Miss America
Organization issuing a statement calling her
"one of our most beloved Miss Americas"
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC
It takes time,
I tell myself.
Believe and wait,
And someday you'll gain
Popularity.
The first day,
At a new school.
She comes and invites you,
What you've wanted is what she
Has.
Sorority sounds cool,
But not what I'd expected.
Flash waves and strip poker,
The word boys tell you all about
It.
Sometimes,
Things are different.
Never to be what we see,
There is nothing that is without a
Price.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
The drooping sun stood across the wooden bow,
showering it with drowsy thoughts for the wooden boy
In the abandoned graveyards where pavements were abolished
Plaid plague nourished the jingling broken eyes
The graveyards of dreams and graveyards of clocks
Will deliver the nails of sorority locks
To cradle the soft heat of the drenched sun
To bring on temptation of demolition’s sons
Let’s say that the pavements of hopes were of pain and vain
The vines were vanity and the roots were dignity
If agony keeps us close to our core,
then drench pins on my head to keep me human
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 5:31 AM UTC
Like a sorority girls' Uggs,
Worn down and washed out.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 12:44 AM UTC
Alone
at the bar, in town;
down the road to the right.
I was afraid
At first
But then,
at the sight
of the warm firelight
In the hearth
thru the window pane
It seemed safe
And beckoned me
to come in, though alone
Laughter filtered
Through the night air
The camaraderie,
good cheer
(perhaps it was the beer?)
spilling over into the hearts of all
that were here, this night
Heady days of my youth
in the old neighborhood
I would never give pause
Or turn and go home
because I was alone
Those folks were family and -
Everyone knew my name.
No difference tonight
Walk in and sit down.
remember your worth!
don’t feel old!
be bold!
Look, there’s a seat
by the fire.
Instantly - I belonged!
not a solitary soul
or mere spectator.
I was the majority,
part of the sorority,
of revelers and folk,
though nobody knew my name
all the same
I wondered why:
had I hesitated at the door.
Did I think I was too old
had I lost my nerve?
To enter the frey
Because they
Were strangers?
and so was I?
Alone,nomore
at the bar, in town;
down the road to the right.
The next stranger I see
enter through the glass doors
with a hesitant stare
I will smile, I think
and offer a drink
and try to share that feeling
of belonging!
(c) Marlene Dunham 2010
Jul 21, 2010
Jul 21, 2010 at 9:08 PM UTC