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Kara Jean Feb 2018
I take the cake
You want to destroy my brain
Here I lay, take it
I have nothing but insanity and care
I am going nowhere
He whispers, "I am all"
He really has no reason to call
Only assumptions  
I am the giving
I am plenty
Idiot with no understanding,
keep handing me empties  
You're so polite,
"Thank you for dying"
"I really never was right"
She smiles and says, "goodnight"
A human being with no meaning
Penelopejayde Apr 2015
The upbringing of a person could lead to a frivolous publican.
A brother and sister are both witnessing the featherbrained fool.
This world we live in is a bit bamboozle

Escaping to a state of ecstasy with your purple kaleidoscope why don't we shape the future and use cinnamon soap.

With your undercoats it's an antidote for a hurtful situation
It's like we are burning in ice.
Your a magician but you can't stop stupid.

Adolescents knowing the need to finish yet they are taking over to much to cope.
So now they are discovering, considering, cinnamon soap.
My first poem
karin naude Nov 2013
mum's well intended tough upbringing ended in a two sided razor sharp sword
i am independent, intelligent, and successful
that same achievements cause me no shortage of frenemies
and a severe debilitating starvation for true friendship and love
men wont touch me with a 10 foot poll
both sexes make me out to be weird beyond the point of recognising there reflexion in me
imprisoned in a life i wanted, successful
with a incurable case of loneliness, i'm drowning out with food and bad poetry
this is my roaring twenties, hooray
cant wait for the next 80 years
going senile will be a blessing
no longer haunted by pain and unreached potential
Empire Jul 25
haha look what you've done.
spent two decades grooming me, teaching me
to hide away my individuality
to ignore and conceal my pain
to sacrifice everything to save face

you convinced me you did no wrong

and i thought i had to be the same

do you even realize
how many nights i drowned in tears
because of you
the wounds you inflicted on me

i still carry the scars

so don't be surprised
when i come and show you
the truth of what you've created
i'm not what you think
i'm so much darker
and so much better

ahh.... yes but you wouldn't understand that...
you don't understand
and it has destroyed you
but it will not destroy me

yet here i am
still trying to save face
still protecting you
from the painful reality
that i'm not what you wanted
i'm not who you tried to create
i'm just me.
and i like me
but i know you won't
you'll fear me
you'll hate me
you'll see your failure in me
and i don't think i can take that
i know for sure you can't...

so... here i am
hiding from you
putting on masks
burying myself deep within
to keep you safe
because despite all the wounds
i know you love me
and i you
Kinda a mess of thoughts... I’ll try and clean this up a bit later.... we’ll see...
Nat Lipstadt Sep 14
~for Sreetama Chatterjee, granddaughter of Pradip Chatterjee~

A first time grandfather observes,
“that one path ends, a new one begins”

A philosophy, an observation shared,
one that I am, in multiplicity acquainted

Sources inform me that Sreetama is
of Sanskrit origin, the meaning is
“gift of god”

how wonderful are the mysterious coincidences in this world!

For my Hebrew name,
Netanel, given to me at my birth, the meaning is
“gift of god”

Sources inform me that name of Sreetama has given you
the desire for creative, artistic or musical expression
in an original way.

I can pretend to be surprised, but who would I fool?

you, granddaughter of my friend, an esteemed poet,
Pradip Chatterjee,
who delights in you,
you, an exquisite of the small
you, so powerful already,
that he has shelved his writing,
(temporarily I suspect)
to tend to your upbringing

You, so powerful already,
you, will break his will, command his attention,
demanding, bringing out his issuance of a thousand poems,
all revealing and reveling in your mastery,
over him!

You, so powerful already,
in secret concert, listening secretly,
already composing silently, smilingly,
awaiting the arrival of your fine,
very fine, motor skills,
to grasp, own! his writing utensils,
with the strength of a child insistent

You, feeling the power within those instruments,
sparking a commencement and a continuation of
the generational gift residing in your senses

I await those artistic creature creations
most impatiently...

“the charming patience is the wait time tween your visions of
the excellence of the common, the exquisites of the small,
the delights of loss and pain translated into mercurial milestones,

छोटी की उत्तमता
[ *~ बालिका श्रीतमा चटर्जी के लिए कविता ~

प्रथम बार दादा ने महसूस किया,
"एक पथ पड़ाव तक पहुंचता है, एक नया प्रारम्भ होता है"

एक दर्शन, एक अवलोकन साझा करता हूँ
जिससे मैं भली भांति परिचित हूँ| कई गुना

स्त्रोत बताते हैं कि शब्द 'श्रीतमा' संस्कृत मूल का है,
जिसका अर्थ है - "ईश्वर का आशीर्वाद";

दुनिया में होने वाले रहस्यमय संयोग, कितने अद्भुत हैं!
मेरे हिब्रू भाषा के नाम - 'नेटानेल'

जिसे मेरे जन्म के समय, मुझे दिया गया
उसका भी अर्थ यही है - " ईश्वर का आशीर्वाद"

मुझे, सूत्र बताते हैं कि 'श्रीतमा' नाम ने तुम्हे
रचनात्मक, कलात्मक या संगीतमय -

अभिव्यक्ति की इच्छा दी है
बिलकुल नैसर्गिक और मूल तरीके से।

मैं आश्चर्यचकित होने का नाटक कर सकता हूं,
लेकिन आखिर मैं किसे मूर्ख बनाऊंगा?

तुम, मेरे दोस्त, एक सम्मानित कवि,
प्रदीप चटर्जी की पोती हो

जो तुम्हे देख कर प्रसन्न होता है
तुम, छोटी हो, श्रेष्ठ हो, उत्तम हो

तुम पहले से ही इतनी खुशनसीब हो कि,
उसने अपने लेखन को रोक कर दिया,
(अस्थायी रूप से, ऐसा मेरा मानना है)

केवल और केवल
तुम्हारी अच्छी परवरिश के लिए

तुम पहले से ही इतनी शक्तिशाली हो,
तुम उसकी इच्छाशक्ति को मोड़ सकोगी

उसके ध्यान को अपनी ओर खींचकर
अपनी महारत से उसके भीतर

हिलोरें मार रही हज़ारों कविताओं को
रहस्योद्घाटित होने का अवसर दे सकोगी

तुम पहले से ही इतनी शक्तिशाली हो,
तुम चुपके से धीरे धीरे सुन रही हो

तदात्म्य स्थापित कर रही हो
चुपचाप रच रही हो, गढ़ रही हो

इंतज़ार कर रही हो, समय आने का
अपनी मांसपेशियों पर नियंत्रण होने का

जिससे तुम लेखनी को पकड़ सको
सुदृढ़ता के साथ नियंत्रित कर सको

कुशलता से उसका उपयोग कर सको
एक बच्चे की ताकत और जिद के साथ|

तुम उन उपकरणों में निहित शक्ति महसूस कर रही हो,
जो शुरुआत से ही निरंतर तुम्हारे भीतर,

स्फुलिंग उत्पन्न कर, तुम्हारी इन्द्रियों के भीतर मौजूद
पीढ़ीगत उपहार को जारी रखते हैं

मुझे तुम्हारी उन कलात्मक, जीवंत कृतियों का,
इंतजार है, अधीरता के साथ, हाँ, पूरी अधीरता के साथ|

Many thanks to Shiv Pratap  Pal for his translation, advice and exquisite attention to the smallest detail.
I promised I would be better, I intend it.
All I have is my word, I have to keep it
and act more wholesome. On occasion
I am blind to my faults, willfully ignorant
of the machinations, narcissism, even though

that's not something I want, it's not who I am;
Don't ever wanna be nasty. For a while I had to
believe bad was good, to survive as social animal.
Between my upbringing and this I believe there was
some moral damage to my character's decision-making
ability, but I really believe that all anyone ever wants
is for things to be OK, I cannot accept wrongness
within me (and there's a fair bit).
I must regain my compassion, rid myself of
the cruelty, selfish tendencies, the harsh edge. I'll be kind
again. It isn't something that'll start tomorrow, it starts by
being gentle yet secure. This is how I will recover my poise.
I take that promise I made seriously.
I want to do right by you, even though it may be over I still want to
change, focus on others, thinking of their happiness and pain.
I'm not afraid to sacrifice these paltry emotions I feel
in service to something great. There was a time
when I lived this ideal with both my heart and head,
Now I can barely recognize my old philosophy.
This backtracking has to be done. In closing myself off
I neglected my emotional development
and I'm sorry I couldn't pull
it together for you.
everly Apr 26
sinful man
bathing in the jezebel juice
muffled sounds of pounding fists on flesh
and pooling blood beneath it
to be covered up by skin-toned cream
he used to love
but downs brown bottles and spends
his nights near corner stores..
wretched 40s in paper bags that don’t mask a thing
comes home when he feels like
smelling of Dulce, the lady from the corner,
and commands a room
liquified demons
for they have him wrapped around the neck
silently begging for his life back
liver failing and heart with it
a single tear running down his face
only thinking of his mother
he blames his father
he wasn’t supposed to be this way
he was supposed to be successful and happy in his fathers eyes
black army man that never took no for an answer
6’3” army man
gave him siblings growing up all the same block
how considerate
all the neighbors kids on grave street were blood
ock legs and broad shouldered army man
when he came around the women on the block kept quiet
as if all sworn to secrecy of their forbidden affairs
he uses his faulty upbringing as an excuse to be the failure that he is
serious army man
never owed money to anybody
and never said excuse me during passing because
just with one look you knew
he was always going to go off unapologetically
mila splawska Aug 21
i lost faith in men the day
my father hit my sister
(its just this once)
i told myself
(it’s not abuse, it’s just his upbringing)
i told myself

i lost faith in men the day
i got catcalled walking home from camp
at 13 years old in shorts and a sweatshirt
(it wasn’t to me)
i told myself
i knew it was

i lost faith in men the day
a friend i had known for
my entire life
and trusted
assaulted me in the back of his moms toyota
(he didn’t realize i didn’t want it)
i told myself
(he doesn’t understand the concept of consent)
i told myself

i lost faith in men
because how can you believe in something when
all it does is strip you of your youth, innocence and joy
how can you stay faithful
when the bible feeds you lies
Chris Neilson Oct 2018
I gaze at a photo
of the 3 years old me
blond hair with an uneven fringe
blue eyes twinkling
at the freshness of this nascent life
a slight gap at the top of my baby teeth
showing through a natural gentle smile
a knitted jumper of a maroon shade
over a buttoned up white shirt

This could be an airbrushed cover boy
such is the perfection of this angelic child
but the year is 1970 with limited technology
the photographer an uncle or an aunt
just another kid in a growing family

I've seen photos of Kurt Cobain at the same age
we were born only 3 days apart
the resemblance to me is striking
he born in the rainy north west of the USA
my birth in the rainy north west of England
both with Irish heritage
both part of generation X
both from humble backgrounds
both journeys poles apart

Only death parted my parents
I had a settled loving upbringing
I never learned to play a musical instrument
I never joined a band
I never sold millions of albums
I never had a stomach complaint
I never fell to the temptations of narcotics
I never married Courtney Love
I was never the voice of our generation
I never made the ultimate catastrophic decision

But I did listen to that voice
I did listen to the angry, confessional lyrics
I bought those albums
they still spoke to me
I still listen to them now
I'm alive and still here in my 50s

I don't have much money
I've never had fame
that ship sailed without me
that ship sails stormy waters
that ship hits icebergs
that ship can sink

I give thanks every day for what I have
cash poor
love rich
Johnny walker Dec 2018
Being abused as a child
totally destroyed my
childhood, the excuse
for humans who abuse
for their ***** disgusting gratification

That not only destroys childhood but also these poor victims for them It's never ending the pain shame guilt leading like myself to self-harm

Its time those In  authorities started to consider and give more help to these poor Innocent people
who are suffering so

Don't waste time and money on the evil things who commit these disgusting crimes against humanity
With there feeble excuses
they came poor
upbringing they were abused as a kid, no way, I came poor background abused both beaten and sexually

I who have a son he's 20 years old happy smiling simply because he was bought up as a child the way he was with

That's the way It was me for despite my own child abuse, so forget about those who commit such crimes there's Is no cure
let them out they'll do it again, stop wasting time and money on

And let's help the poor victim try and get their life's back and help them try and live a normal life they so richly

I say God bless the abused for one day they will be
freed of there suffering to live as they
Written In hope victims of child abuse or any kind of abuse that should never ever happen, to find a voice and to be heard, demand the respect you all so richly deserve by all of you, authorities stop wasting time and money on those who will never change
and let's spend time on the victims help them get the life
they so richly deserve.
BoringBoy Aug 2018
Oh Summer Tree, oh Summer Tree
So many things you get to see
Oh Summer Tree, how big are thee
I wonder what you can tell me...

"thєrє íѕ ѕσmєthíng thαt í mαч hαvє

α ѕtσrч ѕєttlєd ín mч crσwn

  mαч thч ѕσul вє quєnchєd wíth thíѕ tαlє

ít'ѕ quítє thє ѕtσrч ѕσ prσfσund"

There used to be a boy quite sharp
He lived inside a place like hell
However, he'd not fall apart
That's something everyone could tell

Another boy afar away
Who lived inside a darkened land
He almost gave his life away
But light from kin had used their hand

The boy of hell was well quite known
A pretty one of rumors told
No one knew what he was in for
You would think someone's soul was sold

The darkened boy with eggshell skin
He lost all but his saddened mom
She melancholy from her grief
He was the one who reached the calm

The boy of hell had hellish kin
One from drug kings, one from fight queens
He saw it all when mother worked
Under the ground in ****** scenes

The mom of dark hated her son
The one who got to live a life
She left him for the streets and drugs
Still there, yet somehow out of sight

Hell boy did hate his upbringing
He did not want to be like them
For school was his way to winning
No way he could live in that realm

This is where dark boy had lost it
And this is when he tried to fade
Light’s hand gave him a wake-up call
Granny, from the states hell boy stays

Hell boy conquered a tough challenge
Till one of fire ignited
His mom and he was asked to leave
Dad’s greed came from what he sighted


"lєt mє tєll чσu thíѕ hєrє ríght nσw

чσu knσw thє ѕtσrч єndѕ nσt hєrє

thє tαlєѕ tσσ lσng, wє muѕt dívídє

wє ѕhσuld ѕkíp tσ nєw pαrtѕ tσ tєll"

Oh Summer Tree, oh Summer Tree,
Can you go on, please keep telling,
I want more, yes, your stories sear,
I wonder how did they get here,
We will move on, not here but there,
Part 1 will come when coasts are clear.
I wouldn't see the point in continuing this story if no one likes it. We'll see, but it's up to if anyone even sees this.
Zhanara Sep 2018
Eveybody can tell what they want
Everybody are able to be nervous
Everybody are able to be crazy
Everybody are able to be aggressive
Their education stops to be crazy
Their wisdom helps not to be nervous
Their good upbringing stops not to be aggressive
Just good peaople are around us
Scarlett Jul 2018
force fed lies from birth
subliminal messages infest my upbringing
blindfolded by greed
I don't see you starve
or smell the pollution
I can't hear the bullets flying
because my ears are stuffed with lies
they say the government has my interests at heart
that the school systems are built to support me
and we're more equal than ever
so why is the wage gap wider than my young eyes
and how is it that a country that screams freedom
won't put down their weapons
when their children are bleeding
why do I know how to dissect a frog
ignorant of the fact innocent civilians are slaughtered
intestines on display
like the green amphibian under my knife
because I can kiss a girl
in a drunken game of spin the bottle
but such an act would get me killed in 11 countries
and is still illegal in 72
why do I know the sum of internal angles in a triangle
yet I don't know how
to read the signs of suicidal friends
when statistically 1 out of 5 people I roam the halls with
struggle with a mental illness
even though more than half of those suffering
have no access to treatment
we are collectively clueless
I am no stranger to privilege
my gratitude is not withheld
but why am I more worthy
than the child forced out of his country
for his religious identity,
for being himself?
why when accessing the privilege of education
they don't teach me how to help other humans
when did sums become more important
than knowledge of current wars
did you know there's more than 10 of them?
because I've only heard of one
I believe that you choose to do nothing
but if i am never aware that I have a choice
nothing can change
and even though everyone has a voice
people with the solutions only choose to hear those with a status
how is it that such screams of desperation
sound so quiet to them
why are those in power of whole countries
so blind to our demands
why do they make things impossibly easier
for those whom already have wealth and advantage
when those stripped of human rights
always seem to escape their greedy sight
but some of us have something they fear
something that never crossed their closed minds
we have the power to create our own opportunities
we can force those whom are voluntarily deaf to hear
so hear me in my passage only seen by very few
this platform may be small but my words shout at you
an action no matter how small
a voice no matter how soft
provokes change if not in yourself
then in even the most unfamiliar faces
but the difference between thinking and action making
is you
Fadi Jan Jul 2018
I am a little bird born into this world
Chirping lullabies to redwood treetops
and singing hymns to an almighty; getting back nothing.

I gathered up twigs and loose branches to build up
my nest––cropped out upbringing
for house fitting.

Waking up to noises––
of violent winds.
Pressing feathers to cover my ears,
and trusting my feet to hold me down.

Barricaded myself in worn bark,
from the impossibility of the threatening ecosystem.
Praying myself in place, hiding when morning shines and dressing in colours of damp green.

I’m something but I tell myself otherwise:
It’s too frightening to fly so I might as well cut off my wings.
No, that would be insensitive––don’t mind that, I’ll pluck them each time the feathers grow.

See I’m holding onto the something that makes me more than nothing.
Clipped wings seem more ideal than no wings.
For some reason I’m scared to let it all go;
silently hoping one day I’ll keep them, like them, love them and even spread them.

Noticed gathering leaves and flowers one day can add colour to a colourless lifestyle,
yet the wind wipes it clean the next––still pale brown and feels less like home than yesterday.

I may be afraid of everything,
but I know I’m more afraid of dying here alone;
whispering Mozartian melodies to dead butterflies.
Please if you have any feedback on how I can make this better: comment below :D
Johnny walker Apr 25
Coming from a back
ground child abuse I knew
nothing of love but the
first time I made to my sweetheart I shall
never ever
When kissed her Oh so sweet lips for she melted
my once cold heart that was caused by abuse as
child, but I knew there
and then I was falling
I remember so well ******* her for very the first time uncovering her
a body so gently with each
Item of clothing till
she was standing
completely naked I just
couldn't take my eyes off
her nakedness her *******
the beautiful curves of her body she took my hand placed on her
Because of abuse and sheltered upbringing I had never touch let seen a naked girl and Oh so beautiful she
she removed my clothes till I was naked too she pressed her body against mine while we
her ******* so stiff  I was already hard below from seeing her naked she had no problem and guided me so easy Into her body
the feeling when entering nothing could ever compare
thrusting Into her body
becoming faster and faster
till she shouted now yes now we came together In an explosion
pure pleasure It was like all the troubles In life were all gone we fell asleep In each other arms, and that was the first time I ever made love to my sweetheart that I remember so
The very first time I made love to my sweetheart It was as close to Heaven as you possibly get without actually  being there
Emmky Sep 2018
There's this pressure every woman has to deal with
People want us to want a child
But what do they know, calling me selfish at my age of fifteen
When my biggest struggle is getting A's in freshman year

I have no intention on filling this world with
Another zombie, creature that's living with no need of thinking
I'm not even sorry for my choice, come on
There's seven billion people in the world, why do we need more?

No, philosophical zombie, don't go with a crowd
They will control you and manipulate your mind
You will lose yourself within their commands
That you're selflessly obeying 'till passing out

Their psychotic destruction is tearing us down
Using you as their weapon, breaking your limbs and loosening your nerves
How am I supposed to put you back together when I have
Problems slipping through my own fingertips myself

We have to find ourselves in this post apocalyptic world
Search through empty halls and broken windows
To see our reflection in the shattered glass covered in
Blood of victims of those brutal killings and your reckless behaviour

Your actions and my upbringing were the cause of this fatality
Leading to the mess we found ourselves in
Both still lost and broken, my vision blurry with ashes and cracks
On your delicate body shifted in unnatural angles

No, don't reach for your mama, darling, I know
It hurts, shh, don't cry, little zombie of mine
I promise it will be okay once the dust settles down
And you will be free to see colourful dreams with your blind eyes

But untill that day I'll wrap you in a blanket, so the world can't see you
And make fun of you and your unhappy being
While you desperately cry for some respect and love
And I'll try my best to offer it to you

You don't have a name and you will probably never be there, but
Don't be afraid of worms, they are coming for you
You can fight back but at the end of the day
You can't resist because your life depends on them

They guide your living, what you can and can't
They keep your dreams to themselves while it's possible
And once faces of relatives are twisted in grief
Little worms come for your soft flesh and chalk white skin
For my future, if any, child
olivia Aug 8
I write with a pink Bic now

My phone is white and out of storage and I’m not connected to the
   cloud because it freaks me out, so every time I delete a picture, she
   asks “are you sure?” And I “delete anyway”
My high school best friend’s cousin’s husband just died and I’m
   wondering why I’m weeping for a kin I never grew akin to, a mere
   stranger, a subtle blip in my matrix. But his poetry
   is beautiful, I know that. And his music is beautiful, I know that.
I drank a root beer float tonight and the night before, or did I eat it? It
   reminded me of buying 99 cent slushes at Convenient. Or the
   “healthy” slushes I bought to accompany my soft pretzel everyday
   in middle school.
On the terrace, everyone else ate hot dogs and I looked down,
   holding my soggy French fries and wondering what else there is out
   there besides ketchup and mustard: like in Princess Diaries when
   Julie Andrews puts mustard on her corndog. I always thought
   that was so cool.
Or when Mia Thermopolis sit sideways in her giant comfy chair after
   throwing darts at balloons filled with paint aka “stupid cupid stop
   picking on me” or is it… “hitting on me”
Remember when Ben Day asked for pictures and when you sent cute
   selfies in your sports bra, he responded, “okay, but can they not be
   of your face?”
Or when Ben Wilson taught you that “hurt people hurt people” and
   had “ultra conservative” on his Facebook page underneath political
   views and you had go ask what that meant. I Corinthians 1:13 or
   something like that was always my favorite bible verse because its
   the only one I ever learned by heart.
Hail Satan.
We all rot under late capitalism.
But I didn’t know that then. I know that now, but not then.
Now I wonder mostly about the ethics behind “procreating.” I wanna
   bear fruit, but I can’t even stand the thought of myself burning in a
   fiery pit, let alone my spawn.
My stepsister is pregnant. She found out the “gender” today, “boy.”
   My nieces and nephews have had a very gendered upbringing, I
   guess I did too: barbies and bratz and Betty spaghetti.
I know everyone always says they just want a “healthy, happy baby”
But I have a crippling nicotine addiction and manic depression, I’m
   not healthy or happy.
Do you think I was the idea my parents pictured when my mom peed
   on that stick and got a plus sign?
Probably not.
I hate to disappoint.
They can live in the glory days when my cursive handwriting was
   better than anyone else’s in my second grade class. Olivia Layne
   Ulmer on that brown, dotted, lined paper.

With a yellow no.2 pencil.
Classy J Jul 27
I remember when I became interested in this rap ****,
I was in elementary, specifically grade 6.
Knew about it before then but I didn’t like it.
Was a metal head that listened to the classics.
From tfk to guns and roses.
But then I heard real lyrics from a rapper who struggled just like you and me.
Who rapped about his life on the streets.
A man who was once homeless to becoming a two time Grammy nominee.
The one and only Fresh I.E.
It made me see what rap could be,
Where one can to tell people about their stories.
After that I did some researching.
Learning about flow, syllables and about timing.
Listening to the 116 clique while practicing my writing.
Everyday for the longest time, rap was the only thing I was breathing.
And around that time I was also struggling and angry about everything.
So, I transferred that into my lyrics which was so refreshing.
It was like my own personal therapy.
Where I could use profanity.
Which ironically shifted from my upbringing.
Which was centred in Christianity.
So, I needed a name that conveyed this new personality.
That was a mixture of good and evil known also as a duality.
Which originally was the name Don Richmon.
But I decided that wasn’t the name of a villain.
So, I took a route a little bit more classy.
And I knew I needed a gimmick to match this new personality.
So,I got myself a suit and a top hat.
And chose to rap about controversial topics that would get me some push back.
But as a minority I couldn’t just sit back.
And keep having these privileged ******* stay on the attack.
Using my freedom of speech as the ultimate payback.
And sometimes they get offended, but hey Im just spitting the facts.
Your just mad that now your the ones with the guns to your backs.
Because it’s about time to get rid of the plaque.
And you best know Classy J is up for the task.
Golden Girl Jun 12
I remember that day like it was yesterday.
What happened, you claim, was barely horseplay.
Will you ever comprehend,
That what you did, I didn’t “misunderstand”?

Perhaps you’d like to blame it on your upbringing,
Because your dad taught you to control a woman who doesn’t have the “right” thinking.
Mexican patriarchy is ******, but it is you who chose to comply with it.
So don’t claim you aren’t responsible for the sins you commit.

Today I speak,
For I refuse to be weak.
Today I’ll unfold the truth I never wanted to accept,
When I was just a little under 15 and felt completely wrecked.

I stand today to expose you **** as I’ve been,
A monster in full shape and form, guilty of ****** while you grin.
You’ve kept your eyes shut to my dreadful sensations,
But today you will listen to my crude allegations.

We were in your house in Mexico where you locked me in the basement.
You claimed you wanted privacy, but only offered me enslavement.
Maybe it really was my bad luck,
When I believed you when said you loved me, but didn’t realize you only wanted to ****.

A monster, you pinned me against the wall,
I hit my head and cried, beginning to feel like your personal doll.
Touching my head where I discovered that I bled,
I reached for your hand, but you only grabbed mine to throw me onto bed.

When I was five, mother told me monsters don’t exist,
But today I am a witness to the contrary, as I know angels and devils coexist.
You are a monster for what you did to me,
For you pretended not to hear my plea.

A monster, you tied me onto your bed,
And ripped my clothes until I was left with nothing but a thread.
I begged you to stop and pushed you away,
But you slapped me and pressing your body against mine, told me you were here to stay.

A monster, your tongue against my breast,
And I completely undressed,
I watched your face transform,
Like a caterpillar taking its new form.

You, a monster, a demon, and a coward,
Faced a broken soul who had not yet flowered.
You took your hands and forced my flower to bloom,
Though it did not unfold with pleasure, but with fear of ending in a tomb.

And like a painter facing an empty canvas,
You traced me from head to toe as I lay nearly dead on the mattress.
You carved your name onto my body and robbed me of my innocence.
A monster, you obliterated my purity, leaving bruises as evidence.

A monster, you watered my flowers with the filthiest juice,
Not with God’s purest waters, but your own waters of abuse.
I weeped and screamed and in that moment begged for a God to exist,
I even prayed, but found no angels to untie my wrists.

If you really loved me, then you would look past your lust,
But you never did and chose to break me with each and every ******.
Rocking back and forth I was controlled by you, a monstrous puppeteer,
Your *** danced down my legs as I watched you cold and with fear.

A monster, you carefully tamed me to satisfy your *** drive,
Never did I imagine I would go to Hell and come back alive.
Today I stand a witness of your repulsive proclivity,
Penetrated by a monster who awaited for the trophee he believed was my virginity.

It wasn’t just a simple “quickie”,
The way you threw me around and used me.
I may have stood still and allowed you to profanate me,  
But I always threw up once you finished touching me.

People say our dreams are reflections of our memories fused with fantasies,
But there is no magic in the nightmares I regard as tragedies.
I’ve spent four years feeling entitled to nothing but pain,
And stay awake fearing my memories will haunt me, crashing into me like a train.

I wash my body once, twice, and thrice to flush away the picture of your fingers,
Scrubbing and scrubbing to ensure I numb my skin from your smell that lingers.
Your colossal hands a million times larger than the girl they groped,
Remind her of the million times she was choked.

I only wish you could understand what it feels like to be someone’s puppet,
A doll you can pull, stretch, bend over backwards and play like a trumpet.
It’s difficult to accept I’ll always feel possessed,
That the monster who injected me with his poison jerks off to the thought of being caressed.

You are the reason I’ve sought the sharpest blade,
To slash my skin and mark your cannonade.
But I can’t slice you out of my body,
As slicing my skin with glass won’t provide me with an antibody.

A monster, you conquered my body with a single purpose,
You kept me in the darkness to guarantee your coitus.
I’m sorry my ******* wasn’t as **** as your *******,
I blowed as fast as I could to prevent a flatline on my Electrocardiography.

I’m sorry I had to fake an ******,
But I had to escape you once you threw me into a chasm.
Navigating in the maze where I was constantly abused,
Was difficult having no compass to pretend I was being seduced.

I spent years looking for an exit out of your maze,
Taking too long to realize this wasn’t only a phase.
Some blame me for being too oblivious,
For wearing a blindfold and perceiving you as chivalrous.

And perhaps you blame me for being too naive,
Because I wished for you to change on New Year’s Eve.
I sought a fairytale, forgetting Cinderella did not meet her prince,
But a wolf who impaled her with his claws and abandoned her since.

I was your slave for two long years,
And you, a monster, showed me each and every one of my fears.
But I have lived in spite of my trauma,
And today I stand to scold you for this drama.

I no longer fear the monster inside my head,
For I understand many others will dwell ahead.
But my monster will no longer haunt me in my sleep,
For now I sleep knowing I have my body to keep.

I am strong, proud and bold,
And I have found my place in this world.
No longer will I let you win,
For it is you who reeks of sin.

Does it make me sick to empathize with your situation?
To feel for your pain and share your deeply held frustration?
Is it you who is wicked for being a pervert?
Or me for wanting you to hurt?

How can I wish you the greatest agony,
When I would never want anyone, not even my monster to experience my tragedy?
I am being torn in different directions,
But I’m no longer tied down to successful erections.

Monster, I thank you for your rotten kisses,
For the hundred bruises and tight stitches.
I now know my body is a shrine,
And that I am my own lifeline.

No longer will I feel soiled by your hands.
For I have built new dams.  
I now look at my own reflection,  
And see a figure composed of fascinating lines shielding me from your infection.

I am on my way to finding my peace,
But need to put my thoughts together to find my release.
It may be forgiveness, prevention or punishment,
But no longer will I undermine my own torment.

It may sound funny when I say I wish I was a superhero,
So I would know when a girl is in danger of touch and close to Ground Zero.
I’ve lived my years carrying the guilt of watching women fall one by one,
Of never being able to prevent another unwanted son.

I now understand there is only so much I can do,
For I am an ordinary person with a big heart turned blue.
I only wish my words will inspire, the victims of this fire,
To embrace their burns and wear them as an iron attire.

My growth and strength came as a result of patience,
It took years and tears to show me a way out of complacence.
But in an effort to give you a lift,
I have found myself adrift.

I have tried to be a saviour,
Forgetting to save myself before and bring myself to shore.
Today is the day I become my own light,
And fight to stay bright in the night.

Monster, you may now live in paradise,
Walking around as the devil in disguise.
But I believe in divine retribution,
And live in peace knowing you will get your fatal conclusion.

You are a monster, and I was your prey,
But today, I am no longer in decay.
With these words I purge myself of your touch,
For I’ve released my demons back into Hell and no longer seek a crutch.
Sea Sep 5
I can change
I assure myself
But doubt still dwells in me
Keeping me chained to old ways that are slowly eroding my joy
Fading colors until everything I see is covered in a film of grey
It’s so difficult to push against this
When the resistance comes from within me

But there’s a flickering flame
Igniting the hope that I can change for the better
That I can start caring for myself
Despite my upbringing of neglect
That I no longer have to be against myself
And disregard my needs
But slowly rise
In becoming stronger
By making incremental changes
Until one day, I tear through my chrysalis
To expose my wings.
Big Virge Oct 4
So ... Is It Wise ...
To ... " Commercialise " ... ?!?

Just To Get ...
A ... Short-Lived Prize ... ???

Where's It Got Us ... ?
Showing LOVE ...
To YES ... FAKE Thugs ... !?!

RIDICULOUS ... " Cribs " ... !!!
To Cars For ... " Pimps " ... !!!

Is This The Way ...
We NEED To ... Live ... ?!?

****** SPREES ...
******* ... !!!

Accompanied By ...
WEAK ... Hip Hop Beats ... !!!

That's Just ... ME ...
That's What I SEE ...

I Guess That's ... NOT ...

........ " REALITY " ....... ???

OF COURSE It ... IS ... !!!!!

So LISTEN ... " Kids " ...
You WON'T ... Live Long ...
With ... " Guns and Clips " ... !!!!!!

When They're ATTACHED ...
To ... ANGRY Hips ... !!! ...

DON'T RUSH To Kiss Lips ...
Or .... Hold A Drink ....

USE Your Brain ...
Take Time and ... THINK ... !!!!!

Money Comes EASY ... !!!
Money Goes ... EASY ... !!!

So ...
MAKE That ... " Cash " ...
But ... DON'T Act FLASH ... !!!
Cos' Nowadays ...
You'll Be ... AMAZED ...
At How ... JEALOUSY ...
Can Bring ... " SAD Days " ... !!!

Villains ... Right NOW ...
are ... ILLin' and Killin' ... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

TRUST Me Now ...
This AIN'T ... Fulfilling ... !!!

EVERYBODY's ... Billing ...
But Tell Me ... Are You Willing ... ?

To STOP Young People ...
Resorting To ... KILLING ... !!?!!

I'd Rather Be ... " Chilling " ... !!!
and ... Use MY BRAIN ...
A BETTER Way ...
of Life and ... LIVING ... !!!

Like ...
GOOD ... " Upbringing " ... !!!
By ... Men and Women ... !!!

This Was THE THING ...
That Kept ... FULFILLING ...
My ... " Early Life " ...
When LOVE Was Something ...
In ... My SIGHT ... !!!

So ...
Is it ... " Wise " ...
To ... COMMERCIALISE ... ???
When This Can Make ...
Some People ... LIE ... ?!?

" Eyes ON THE PRIZE ! " ...

But ... Selfish Guys ...
May Be ... SURPRISED ... !?!

By ...
What They ... " FIND " ...
In ... Financiers MINDS ... !!!

Let's GO BACK ...........................
To ... EARLIER Times ...

Cos' ...
Banks In The CITY ...
Have ... SLAVERY Ties ... !!!

Now THAT's NOT NICE ... !!!

Could You ...
Place A ... PRICE ...
On A ... Human Life ... ?!?

How About ... " A Child " ...
With ... TEAR FILLED Eyes ... !!?!!

How About ... YOU ... ?
What Would You Do ... ?

If Someone ... BOUGHT ...
How You Could ... "MOVE" ... ???

Well ....
and THIS Is ... NOW ... !!!

"Money Makes The
World Go Around !!!"

DON'T ................... IGNORE That ... !!!!!

THAT IS ... " Profound " ...

UNLIKE ... These Words ...

"I Live for Pounds !"

Live For ... LIVING ... !!!

NOT ... Blood Spilling ... !!!!
Or ... NEEDLESS Killing ... !!!!!

Cos' Things Like THIS ...
Give Lows ... NOT HIGHS ... !!!

Unlike LOVE ...
From ... Feminine Thighs ... !!!

I'll End This ... THERE ...
For ... " MONEY GUYS " ...
With ... VIOLENT Ties ... !!!

Cos I'd ...
Rather Have ... LOVE ...
and Try To Be ... WISE ...

Than ...
Live My Life ...

To .......

...... " Commercialise " ......
Well, in a world where Donald runs the US, these words seem worthless, but hey, so far I've done fine without putting a price on myself, or what I do, but I guess it works for the majority, or does it ... ??? One to think on .......
Butch Decatoria Dec 2018
Indigent / outcast
trailer trash
We are products of our surroundings.

Or is it upbringing?
Taken / down
Far from home
If it's where the heart is...

"Worthless idiot"
She spits on me
Like her rednecks and *****
Big pimping

Her tricks
Quick to flick
Their Bics and *****
Bringing home the other

Reynolds wrap and points at the back
Hiding in the thickness
Of weeping veils
Of willows

Outside the picket fences
Just beyond Royale Park mobile
Some kind of
A Community
Missing it's gate
All the times shivoo

Since the South is clammy
Sweat shop swamps
And blistering
Hot like Gold
Coast fires / petrol dragons' breath

(She's a mockery
Of the word -- revelations
Turning pages
Now napkins and coasters
Tissue for ****** noses.)

Vagrant vespers
In the dark
she lets the men
Inside her double wide

Inebriated bruises
Polka dot excuses

Even in the city
It's funny
How the homeless can hide
Out in the open

Escape artist
Pacifist spaces.

Indigent / outcast
Trailer trash
Minutiae boy

Barely half /
Legally blank
    life blind
Yet lucky to be alive
Still in search of
Some kind
A Home.

— The End —