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"womanhood" poems
{i remember} She comes to presence in a great wave of grief that has no bottom. {water cannot swim} Feeling the unbearable weight of womanhood tearing me open, revealing my own sorrows. {a channel of life} To be a gate of love and blood, the flesh of desire, bearer of all burdens, was so traumatic I was reborn in the body of a man.
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Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 1:05 PM UTC
Womanhood
i'm not a slave of compliments. I won't overdose on injections of racism. The only addiction i have it of the melanin in my skin. My heritage is not a sin. My womanhood has always been the evidence of excellence. My faith is not a bad habit I need rehabilitation from. If discrimination was a drug i would be high every day
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Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC
Untitled
She slides over the hot upholstery of her mother's car, this schoolgirl of fifteen who loves humming & swaying with the radio. Her entry into womanhood will be like all the other girls'— a cigarette and a joke, as she strides up with the rest to a brick factory where she'll sew rag rugs from textile strips of kelly green, bright red, aqua. When she enters, and the millgate closes, final as a slap, there'll be silence. She'll see fifteen high windows cemented over to cut out light. Inside, a constant, deafening noise and warm air smelling of oil, the shifts continuing on ... All day she'll guide cloth along a line of whirring needles, her arms & shoulders rocking back & forth with the machines— 200 porch size rugs behind her before she can stop to reach up, like her mother, and pick the lint out of her hair.
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11.8k
Womanhood
I. The Mermaid I am six years old, and I am obsessed with Ariel from The Little Mermaid-- she is, by far, my favourite Disney Princess. I want to be exactly like her-- hair billowing in red swirls around a heart-shaped face and eyes so blue they put the very ocean to shame (my sister has blue eyes too, you know, and, to this day, I still envy her, for her eyes are the loveliest characteristic of her Beauty-- and believe me, there are many); purple clam shells vibrant against porcelain-doll skin and fully blossomed ******* (in three years from now, I will begin to grow ***** elementary-school style, over-ripe. B Cups going on C cups fated to become D Cups, plum-sized in comparison to the budding mosquito bites of my fellow classmates. Barely a child, womanhood threatens to sexualize my girlish body before I truly know what sexualization is); fins cutting through the water gracefully in all their green, iridescent glory (little did I know that, as I grew older, "cutting" would adopt a far more sinister meaning in the context of my life). But, despite my admiration for Ariel, I fail to understand her desire to abandon her under-sea rendezvous, sunken treasures, oceanic melodies to "be where the people are." This lack of approval I foster exists due to the fact that I am a firm believer of the magic the aquatic realm (and Disney) has to offer. To this day, I continue to maintain my stance-- that Ariel had been terribly wrong in the choices she made-- but I have become cognizant of different (and better) reasons to argue my position; after all, and as a cartoon crab had so wisely declared once, "The human world-- it's a mess."
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Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 10:29 PM UTC
I, Ophelia (Part One--The Mermaid)
I. The Mermaid I am six years old, and I am obsessed with Ariel from The Little Mermaid-- she is, by far, my favourite Disney Princess. I want to be exactly like her-- hair billowing in red swirls around a heart-shaped face and eyes so blue they put the very ocean to shame (my sister has blue eyes too, you know, and, to this day, I still envy her, for her eyes are the loveliest characteristic of her Beauty-- and believe me, there are many); purple clam shells vibrant against porcelain-doll skin and fully blossomed ******* (in three years from now, I will begin to grow ***** elementary-school style, over-ripe. B Cups going on C cups fated to become D Cups, plum-sized in comparison to the budding mosquito bites of my fellow classmates. Barely a child, womanhood threatens to sexualize my girlish body before I truly know what sexualization is); fins cutting through the water gracefully in all their green, iridescent glory (little did I know that, as I grew older, "cutting" would adopt a far more sinister meaning in the context of my life). But, despite my admiration for Ariel, I fail to understand her desire to abandon her under-sea rendezvous, sunken treasures, oceanic melodies to "be where the people are." This lack of approval I foster exists due to the fact that I am a firm believer of the magic the aquatic realm (and Disney) has to offer. To this day, I continue to maintain my stance-- that Ariel had been terribly wrong in the choices she made-- but I have become cognizant of different (and better) reasons to argue my position; after all, and as a cartoon crab had so wisely declared once, "The human world-- it's a mess."
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68
You choose to ask me about me, you choose to want to know me. You speak words out my vocabulary! You speak of your world so fine. You lure me into your mind. You try speak the truth while talking lies. You tell me about beauty and brains combined. You tell me I look fine and my poetry is in line. You tell me you'd want to know if I'm woman enough. If I can really play tough with whips and cuffs! I ask you how? Cause this is my body? What more can a woman define being a woman? I then realise the misconception. Try give you direction, but your minds path is too narrow, filled with ***** ***** and lubes! Reluctant to teach a head with no backbone, I smile:) you then begin again. You tell me that that smile you have, is worth a million rands, you tell me my curves don't lie, that could handle me right? you tell me about the bed, the floor, the kitchen counter, you define me by how many rounds I can encounter! This is my body..how dare you try you undress me? How dare you define my womanhood out of desperate needs? You terminate my soul and don't bother to ask more. You say thanx like I did a good job. For watering your ego and moaning your insecurities away. Respect my body sir. Then ill Salute you.
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Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 7:17 AM UTC
Respect my body
I cried at the breakfast table this morning my father carefully explained, "wives must be submissive to their husbands" "housecleaning is the domain of the woman" "God created woman because man asked for a partner" This past semester I wrote two papers One, a fire and brimstone sermon           I quoted Anais Nin           sending the creators of sexist commercials to eternal suffering           **** them!" I said. "May they burn in hell."           For the women they portrayed were doormats           Misconceptions           Monsters The other, the role of women in the 1920s,            No longer confined to the kitchen            they dropped ballots with their new freedom            they wore short dresses and short tresses            fingers wrapped around cigs            they quoted Wilde instead of Alcott            they danced until their feet hurt         I read of Anais Nin's "new woman," her partnership, not submission to man, I craved a room of my own, neigh demanded it For sheep stayed in the kitchen, The Woolf had a study. I read poetry Sexton, Plath, I wept for their starved, depressed selves caged, suffocating inside the clasped hands of a man. Loved like rib-cage jails. Adrienne Rich made me angry, her daughter-in-law forever trying to fit into a box she was always too big for, spilling at the edges, her shaved legs like "white mammoth tusks" I was finally happy with my womanhood. ****** ****** ***** ******** they are mine. ******* free to move unrestrained, jiggling under my shirt. Wetness between my thighs. Menstrual blood, they are mine. mine. I am not ashamed of what I am because there is no shame. I am woman, I am girl, I am lady. I am a creature with a voice a mind. a creature who endured much abuse, continue to endure. I am woman and I don't have to be wife or mother unless I want to be. I was not created for man; I was created for the same reason he was, to serve the same great purpose on this tiny blue dot. I am not rib. I am ****** ****** ***** ******** ******* free, unrestrained, Wetness between my thighs. Menstrual blood, I am a per. I am a wo. I am a hu. Man and son need to back down, collaborate not dominate, speak not command, for when less are forced into silence, the maddening scream hidden inside skin and bones and muscle-meat becomes song. this world of car horns and tire screeches crying and wailing from raw throats angry protests of indignation could use a little music.
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Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
Father broke my heart.
I cried at the breakfast table this morning my father carefully explained, "wives must be submissive to their husbands" "housecleaning is the domain of the woman" "God created woman because man asked for a partner" This past semester I wrote two papers One, a fire and brimstone sermon           I quoted Anais Nin           sending the creators of sexist commercials to eternal suffering           **** them!" I said. "May they burn in hell."           For the women they portrayed were doormats           Misconceptions           Monsters The other, the role of women in the 1920s,            No longer confined to the kitchen            they dropped ballots with their new freedom            they wore short dresses and short tresses            fingers wrapped around cigs            they quoted Wilde instead of Alcott            they danced until their feet hurt         I read of Anais Nin's "new woman," her partnership, not submission to man, I craved a room of my own, neigh demanded it For sheep stayed in the kitchen, The Woolf had a study. I read poetry Sexton, Plath, I wept for their starved, depressed selves caged, suffocating inside the clasped hands of a man. Loved like rib-cage jails. Adrienne Rich made me angry, her daughter-in-law forever trying to fit into a box she was always too big for, spilling at the edges, her shaved legs like "white mammoth tusks" I was finally happy with my womanhood. ****** ****** ***** ******** they are mine. ******* free to move unrestrained, jiggling under my shirt. Wetness between my thighs. Menstrual blood, they are mine. mine. I am not ashamed of what I am because there is no shame. I am woman, I am girl, I am lady. I am a creature with a voice a mind. a creature who endured much abuse, continue to endure. I am woman and I don't have to be wife or mother unless I want to be. I was not created for man; I was created for the same reason he was, to serve the same great purpose on this tiny blue dot. I am not rib. I am ****** ****** ***** ******** ******* free, unrestrained, Wetness between my thighs. Menstrual blood, I am a per. I am a wo. I am a hu. Man and son need to back down, collaborate not dominate, speak not command, for when less are forced into silence, the maddening scream hidden inside skin and bones and muscle-meat becomes song. this world of car horns and tire screeches crying and wailing from raw throats angry protests of indignation could use a little music.
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82
mommy loves you unconditionally even as you soar amongst the clouds searching for the perfect timing to come on down please, forgive my impatience i just have this undying urge to have you here in my arms, clinging to my breast as i provide you with life and you provide my breaths little one, shining so bright come to me only when you feel it's right the doctors tell me otherwise and my womanhood is of questionable might but i know you are as rightfully my child just as i am the moon to your night an infertile mother will forever understand why so many letters are written to our unborn with shaken hands why so many tears have fallen why you wonder it isn't your calling to be given a life of other plans but i know you hear me, little one and i know you love me too and i promise to better preserve my body so that it may be the perfect home for you until you are ready to bless me with your smile; the uniqueness that is true everything i do, everything i aim to be, every dream i work so hard to achieve i do for you so please, be slow and easy little one mommy needs preparation too just know this, when you've become tired of waiting; when you're ready for the world and you're journey has come to the point of passing through watch for flashing lights and smiling faces and tears of joy listen for songs of love because i'll be right there-- for i've been waiting too... just for you.
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Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC
to my unborn
"And in a funny way, the shaving of my, uh, head has been a liberation from, uh, a lot of, uh, stupid vanities really. Uh, it has simplified everything for me, it has opened a lot of doors maybe." - Stephen Malkmus, Jo Jo's Jacket the first layer of skin i shed was the bra rid of the foreign metal sculptor producing a deep rift between skin my third eye, swallowing gazes rid of my **** , my ***** , my rack replaced with sacks of fat and nerve and milk ducts hanging, existing, for no one else not even myself the second layer of skin was the painting of the face the concealing and erasing of imperfections, the lines of laughter of sorrow of life redirecting attention and importance to the bow and symmetry of the lip no longer did i have to put myself on in the morning i woke up as i was, as i needed to be, bare and uninhibited my skin now breathed, and for no one else not even myself and then i grew another layer of skin, made of dank tangles to protect my age, i stopped shaving the years i'd walked this earth, shedding my womanhood the skin grew to my armpits, little tufts of sweaty, odorous mother nature dozing in a fleshy convex nest and to my legs, were the tangles wrapped around my ankles preventing the spreading of the legs for every life for not every life wanted what was not tame and what was not tame no longer wanted to be. my body did not conform, for it was not brought into this world to be consumed for the pleasure of others it exists for no one else, not even myself and as i was engulfed in this hairy wonder of my own body i shed the last layer, the shaving of the head my brain, my being breathed porous and exposed vulnerable to weather and whispers but i was all at once naked and calm, having finally peeled away the layers of ***** over-sexualization and constrained femininity that had molded this meat sack that serves me, a bundle of circuitry and solution balancing and bobbing on the neck for i exist for no one else, only myself
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Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 10:48 AM UTC
Mae Mae's Jacket
"And in a funny way, the shaving of my, uh, head has been a liberation from, uh, a lot of, uh, stupid vanities really. Uh, it has simplified everything for me, it has opened a lot of doors maybe." - Stephen Malkmus, Jo Jo's Jacket the first layer of skin i shed was the bra rid of the foreign metal sculptor producing a deep rift between skin my third eye, swallowing gazes rid of my **** , my ***** , my rack replaced with sacks of fat and nerve and milk ducts hanging, existing, for no one else not even myself the second layer of skin was the painting of the face the concealing and erasing of imperfections, the lines of laughter of sorrow of life redirecting attention and importance to the bow and symmetry of the lip no longer did i have to put myself on in the morning i woke up as i was, as i needed to be, bare and uninhibited my skin now breathed, and for no one else not even myself and then i grew another layer of skin, made of dank tangles to protect my age, i stopped shaving the years i'd walked this earth, shedding my womanhood the skin grew to my armpits, little tufts of sweaty, odorous mother nature dozing in a fleshy convex nest and to my legs, were the tangles wrapped around my ankles preventing the spreading of the legs for every life for not every life wanted what was not tame and what was not tame no longer wanted to be. my body did not conform, for it was not brought into this world to be consumed for the pleasure of others it exists for no one else, not even myself and as i was engulfed in this hairy wonder of my own body i shed the last layer, the shaving of the head my brain, my being breathed porous and exposed vulnerable to weather and whispers but i was all at once naked and calm, having finally peeled away the layers of ***** over-sexualization and constrained femininity that had molded this meat sack that serves me, a bundle of circuitry and solution balancing and bobbing on the neck for i exist for no one else, only myself
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40
My body is a temple My bleeding is divine My womanhood is spiritual In ways that an intolerant devotee like you cannot understand So when you barr me from entering Sabarimala Remember that you can't stop a goddess Saraswati is wise but her rage is wild and merciless Lakshmi will create earthquakes that will devastate Durga will pierce your heart with her spear Parvathi will leave her abode and run into the streets Kali will destroy you in unimaginable ways They reside within us We will cut our feet on your shattered glass We will shout till our voices become hoarse An army of neglected women will create a tsunami Till you're on your back, crying Till you give up your apparent 'religion-saving' Helpless, wailing And bleeding
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Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 1:33 AM UTC
Sabarimala
And after that I am still a hollow where the fairies hide from darkness and poisons. I am still growing flowers out of my womb and that is why they stink like ************ And after that your disbelief kills all my sparky pixies and after that I cannot be anything more than a hollow hollow. But yeah I am still growing flowers out of my wound and that is why I scream and cry when you touch them. And after that the stillness of the air inside me and the remnant echo of morning songs attract the darkness to come. And after that I think she may feel lonely so I invite poisons to also come along. And after that I am still growing flowers out of the wound on my womb. They still stink like ************ and after that vomitting feels like womanhood thing. And after that my flowers are still immortal and that is why sometimes you see blood clot floating around the moon.
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Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 2:33 PM UTC
And after that
Today, I wear nothing. I strip away the hot heavy shoes, the tights that constrict my airway. My underwear, lacy and uncomfortable and unseen by everyone but me. My deepest darkest most sacred secret is held down             slipping between my legs is my moist wet womanhood not stopped by any obstacle and you try to touch me there on my pink love button, touching it to understand a different part of me that you wouldn't have been able to see otherwise. I keep it hidden. it comes out when they come off Release
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Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 6:01 PM UTC
****
I had been whispering brazenly in your ear all night. Not even using words half the time. A knowing smile, a finger edging ever closer to your womanhood. When I flicked your ******* the first time tonight I knew I couldn't lose. The nearest park. The nearest patch of grass in the dark. Covered in dirt, a train thundered past as you came, your ticket to be vocal. You looked so beautiful right then. I inhaled you one last time and looked up at the stars as we put on our faces.
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Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 4:41 PM UTC
Sewing seeds
Redundant sexless girl Unable to fulfill your biological purpose The species will not continue - Not from your ***** Your womb is dried up The monthly cleanse broken Interrupted Your ovaries cry out- *The rain does not come The rain does not come The rain does not come* To wash away the old Prepare for the Coiling, growing, emerging The innocence to be birthed And spoiled by this world's evil. Redundant sexless girl Drained of life-giving blood Drained of nurturing power Drained of womanhood Redundant sexless girl Barren girl What use have you? What purpose? What right have you to still walk this most fertile Earth?
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Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
To continue the species
It will be different with different people and it will be different at different times. If love really grows, this is the way: first you fall in love with the woman because her body is beautiful. That is the first available beauty - her face, her eyes, her proportion, her elegance, her dancing, pulsating energy. Her body is beautiful. That is the first approach. You fall in love. Then after a few days you start going deeper into the woman. You start loving her heart. Now a far more beautiful revelation is coming to you. The body becomes secondary; the heart becomes primary. A new vision has arisen, a new peak. If you go on loving the woman, sooner or later you will find there are peaks beyond peaks, depths beyond depths. Then you start loving the soul of the woman. Then it is not only her heart - now that has become secondary. Now it is the very person, the very presence, the very radiance, the aliveness, that unknown phenomenon of her being - that she is. The body is very far away, the heart has also gone away - now the being is. And then one day this particular woman's being becomes far away. Now you start loving womanhood in her, the femininity, the feminineness, that receptivity. Now she is not a particular woman at all, she simply reflects womanhood, a particular form of womanhood. Now it is no longer individual, it is becoming more and more universal. And one day that womanhood has also disappeared - you love the humanity in her. Now she is not just a representative of woman, she is also a representative of man as much. The sky is becoming bigger and bigger. Then one day it is not humanity, but existence. That she exists, that's all that you want - that she exists. You are coming very close to God. Then the last point comes - all formulations and all forms disappear and there is God. You have found God through your woman, through your man. Each love is an echo of God's love. Osho
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Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
When you love a woman
It will be different with different people and it will be different at different times. If love really grows, this is the way: first you fall in love with the woman because her body is beautiful. That is the first available beauty - her face, her eyes, her proportion, her elegance, her dancing, pulsating energy. Her body is beautiful. That is the first approach. You fall in love. Then after a few days you start going deeper into the woman. You start loving her heart. Now a far more beautiful revelation is coming to you. The body becomes secondary; the heart becomes primary. A new vision has arisen, a new peak. If you go on loving the woman, sooner or later you will find there are peaks beyond peaks, depths beyond depths. Then you start loving the soul of the woman. Then it is not only her heart - now that has become secondary. Now it is the very person, the very presence, the very radiance, the aliveness, that unknown phenomenon of her being - that she is. The body is very far away, the heart has also gone away - now the being is. And then one day this particular woman's being becomes far away. Now you start loving womanhood in her, the femininity, the feminineness, that receptivity. Now she is not a particular woman at all, she simply reflects womanhood, a particular form of womanhood. Now it is no longer individual, it is becoming more and more universal. And one day that womanhood has also disappeared - you love the humanity in her. Now she is not just a representative of woman, she is also a representative of man as much. The sky is becoming bigger and bigger. Then one day it is not humanity, but existence. That she exists, that's all that you want - that she exists. You are coming very close to God. Then the last point comes - all formulations and all forms disappear and there is God. You have found God through your woman, through your man. Each love is an echo of God's love. Osho
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5
For this my mother wrapped me warm, And called me home against the storm, And coaxed my infant nights to quiet, And gave me roughage in my diet, And tucked me in my bed at eight, And clipped my hair, and marked my weight, And watched me as I sat and stood: That I might grow to womanhood To hear a whistle and drop my wits And break my heart to clattering bits.
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6.5k
Fulfillment
Submissiveness:        give into man. silence yourself. his word is final. rush to his beck and call when he is angered. we are wrong. man is dominant, and woman is soft. if man is the bone, we are the gushy cartilage cushioning his fall. body dominated and composed of bone, but we are the organs that keep the body functioning. forever being transplanted, while our men are broken. submit. Purity:        save yourself for man. wait for him with all your white so you are not tainted. innocence upheld. it is all for him, only him. wait for him to take it all, whenever he desires. be pure. Domesticity:         the home calls our name. it is our calling. our knees bound to scrubbing, hands tied to kneading because our family needs us. we are to be the slaves of our homes just as we were to the white man. permanency of pressing collars that are not our own. domestic labor. Piety:         we come from the rib of adam. without the presence of man we, ourselves would not exist. for this reason, we worship. we worship to reiterate our purity, to maintain our sanity when others challenge our virtues of womanhood. the lord is our shepherd. we uphold our lord. besides our husbands, he is all that we shall want. womanhood.
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Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
womanhood
~ω~⊙~ω~ *precious life begins entering womanhood now in my arms you sigh* ~ω~ω~⊙~ω~ω~ Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels. All Rights Reserved.
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Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
precious {senryu#15}
The whole concept of adulthood is one that seems to trespass from the ever-anticipated world of the theoretical, just to barge into your life one night like an uninvited drunken friend. It will never really “hit you,” but it’ll come **** close the first time your aunt offers you a glass of wine as she and your mother gossip frankly about your father’s mistress— you sip on cheap Chardonnay and pretend to be used to the taste, as they talk with a middle-aged bitterness of the man you were raised to believe was too virtuous to be in debt for some glitzy engagement ring that he bought to restart his life with a woman he left your mother for shortly after the pandemonium of a guiltless affair. The man whose brutishness you were told to overlook, cradling the sparse memories of when he’d tuck you too tightly into bed, or when he’d tell you that he loved you even though half the time you really didn’t believe him— The man whose love confused you, whose clumsy attempts of fatherhood kept the heart of a young girl perpetually guarded by a cautious skepticism— The man who brought you into a world he found absurd as carelessly as he raised you to face it, torn apart like every illusion that makes a child, the ashes of which that slip through your fingers inevitably declare you another bitter adult. More wine will reveal that your beloved father is a controlling ****** and his relationship with that ***** the whole family hates only appears to be functioning because she lets him have all the control he couldn’t exert on your mother, even though you’ve had dinner with the two of them a couple of times and if you had met her under any other circumstance (though you’d feel like a traitor if you said it aloud) you wouldn’t think she was all that bad. In red, declarative letters I want to write to any children I may ever bear into this bittersweet game of ******** we play that we’ve since called ‘life,’ that when they first gaze with awe at the unattainable grace with which every grown-up seems to navigate the world they created, with all the pain of tax-paying and womanhood, I want to scream that we don’t know what the hell we’re doing either and if at any point I try to convince you otherwise you should tell your mother that she’s full of ****
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Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 3:25 PM UTC
"Adulthood" (revised)
The whole concept of adulthood is one that seems to trespass from the ever-anticipated world of the theoretical, just to barge into your life one night like an uninvited drunken friend. It will never really “hit you,” but it’ll come **** close the first time your aunt offers you a glass of wine as she and your mother gossip frankly about your father’s mistress— you sip on cheap Chardonnay and pretend to be used to the taste, as they talk with a middle-aged bitterness of the man you were raised to believe was too virtuous to be in debt for some glitzy engagement ring that he bought to restart his life with a woman he left your mother for shortly after the pandemonium of a guiltless affair. The man whose brutishness you were told to overlook, cradling the sparse memories of when he’d tuck you too tightly into bed, or when he’d tell you that he loved you even though half the time you really didn’t believe him— The man whose love confused you, whose clumsy attempts of fatherhood kept the heart of a young girl perpetually guarded by a cautious skepticism— The man who brought you into a world he found absurd as carelessly as he raised you to face it, torn apart like every illusion that makes a child, the ashes of which that slip through your fingers inevitably declare you another bitter adult. More wine will reveal that your beloved father is a controlling ****** and his relationship with that ***** the whole family hates only appears to be functioning because she lets him have all the control he couldn’t exert on your mother, even though you’ve had dinner with the two of them a couple of times and if you had met her under any other circumstance (though you’d feel like a traitor if you said it aloud) you wouldn’t think she was all that bad. In red, declarative letters I want to write to any children I may ever bear into this bittersweet game of ******** we play that we’ve since called ‘life,’ that when they first gaze with awe at the unattainable grace with which every grown-up seems to navigate the world they created, with all the pain of tax-paying and womanhood, I want to scream that we don’t know what the hell we’re doing either and if at any point I try to convince you otherwise you should tell your mother that she’s full of ****
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85
The bloodied wound Of patriarchy Swings majestically Round my neck, Wavering my thoughts Of what to be And what not to be. I look around Viewing people fight Misogyny and sexism. For I try to do that too, Until I fall once again into a muck, Watching **** crimes On a daily basis Watching acid attack victims On a daily basis. For, some Are too illiterate to know the meaning Of the word, no. For their egos are so small, That they can’t handle rejection. The bloodied wound Of patriarchy Hangs majestically Round my whole body, Begging me to tame it, Oh dear lord, There is ****** of womanhood happening all around, With people pointing to the length of our clothes, To the pitch of our voices. - @enchantingnachokitten
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Sep 8, 2019
Sep 8, 2019 at 11:22 PM UTC
The wound of patriarchy.
i beg for other people’s *** stories, because i am broken and unloved... and when boys snarl,                              i feel alone, although i know that they are just laughing... and i’ve found that womanhood is half shame before everything else, so i can only notice how other girls wave their successes above my head, as though being ****** is a prize and being loved is an end game, that screams GAME OVER in bright red. i will take my silence over your lifestyle any day, despite the fact that i still cry when you leave.
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Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 3:10 PM UTC
too many girls write poems about how they’ve been body shamed
Moving amidst my Ramona chapter books, I make out your movement, M, the moody turns Of your mounts and valleys, the moniker of Family names, you marked me like a maternal Emblem of the generation’s matriarch, You mingled amid reminiscences of former matrons Maria Helena from the Midwest, Who crossed the mountains in a wagon, Madeleine, a migrant from Marseilles, Who baked warm loaves in San Francisco, And her own daughter, my Mimi, Who muttered merde while she drank martinis. In my own time, you materialized in Marjorie, my nana, and Maria, my mom, The women in which I knew you growing up, Then Molly, who made dreams out of Magic and Movies and Marie Antoinette, You embellished my most favorite things. In my monogram, you aimed my impulses in your masts’ diametric directions Towards competence, towards imagination. In your middle ‘s mysterious compartment I make snug With magazines and novels and mugs of hot milk. You nuzzled me in moments of melancholy, then motivated me To meander among your fundamental family, The sumptuous L of melt and mélange, The meticulous N of man or monk or money. Even W, which matches your mien in mirror It warped wicked witch while you Milled maidens and damsels, so I imagined The mutilation of those two majuscules formed My image of womanhood. M, Molly Smithson materialized From a meek mademoiselle into the mistress of mischief.
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May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 10:09 AM UTC
The Melody of M
The kitchen be my prison To which I am confined Enslaved by my position As 'woman' to mankind.
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May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 2:04 AM UTC
The cage of womanhood
You choked on chariots raw. Red egg yolk suppers, churned of the milk oceans this morning you kept. The lintel of stone turned toward dusk. Some great dynasty of submissive spirits catering your morning Out on a cart of muse, forms of heaven cannot even hear you. You are a soporific knot in the tale of your Old womanhood. In this infinite Tuesday morning your small black eyes, like an oil tanker toppling over The intense azure sea- shipwrecked, and lost. Departing from your childhood you slurp Coca-Cola from a silver straw. From the corner store and inside Winter yawns. There is no face, only strikingly beautiful black hair. The body under you is at home in all My hand's fingers have to fill. All the clothes that you could carry for the two-way adventure. There are Never enough bubbles between your lips and the glass bottle you have. Only the score of the whistleblower. And the poor symphony you had prayed for into the dial-tone phone, the deep Wilderness, that stiff forever-ago budding from your coffee cup. Neurogenesis lifted from your Fingerprints and emblazoned into this lump of human ingenuity. The hopeless octave that cut us all short. Every short story that was left untold. There are the brief deaths recoiling in your spiritual architecture. The ****** of morphia has bourn me awake. Inside you are often unscathed, vanishing as some of Tonight's parts assemble you, on you blue is a beautiful color. The sweet retreat that gave you life or the bountiful deaths that counted you too cutely by your side. You are the sun in my black coat. Here is my sea, your sea, you'll see.
0
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:34 AM UTC
Coca-Cola at 2:00AM
You choked on chariots raw. Red egg yolk suppers, churned of the milk oceans this morning you kept. The lintel of stone turned toward dusk. Some great dynasty of submissive spirits catering your morning Out on a cart of muse, forms of heaven cannot even hear you. You are a soporific knot in the tale of your Old womanhood. In this infinite Tuesday morning your small black eyes, like an oil tanker toppling over The intense azure sea- shipwrecked, and lost. Departing from your childhood you slurp Coca-Cola from a silver straw. From the corner store and inside Winter yawns. There is no face, only strikingly beautiful black hair. The body under you is at home in all My hand's fingers have to fill. All the clothes that you could carry for the two-way adventure. There are Never enough bubbles between your lips and the glass bottle you have. Only the score of the whistleblower. And the poor symphony you had prayed for into the dial-tone phone, the deep Wilderness, that stiff forever-ago budding from your coffee cup. Neurogenesis lifted from your Fingerprints and emblazoned into this lump of human ingenuity. The hopeless octave that cut us all short. Every short story that was left untold. There are the brief deaths recoiling in your spiritual architecture. The ****** of morphia has bourn me awake. Inside you are often unscathed, vanishing as some of Tonight's parts assemble you, on you blue is a beautiful color. The sweet retreat that gave you life or the bountiful deaths that counted you too cutely by your side. You are the sun in my black coat. Here is my sea, your sea, you'll see.
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