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Posts Tagged ‘feminism’

My beautiful one

I will supply you with the armour

The escape plans, the bullet proof vest

Underwired but appropriately covered

You can follow in my footsteps

Well-trodden paths

Of torn minds, broken bones and secrets

Whispered upon deadened, cold, hollowed skin

I will keep you safe my little one

My beautiful one

Don’t be closer to confident than necessary

Don’t ever let the ball drop

Don’t embrace freedom, wind, hope or self-possession

I will teach you the quickest way from the bottom to your feet

Vigilance and accession

Hear my words, weary and earnest

I see the path ahead, hacking at thighs

Chasing the aesthetic

Trying to remember the words that keep you safe my little one

Side stepping and traditional pride

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There is a time to please, to appease, to apologise

For the tease, for existence

To apologise for the breasts, and the audacity

To want ownership, to be landed gentry of the manger

To pray less than politely for a lack of invitation from

The testosterone laden entitlement

When you trust him, the deceit still sits

In that firm space between gender specifications and stereotypes

I’m afraid, I’m sorry

Your cunt is forever a bridle, securing avoidance, submission and admission

Firmly in persona

Under his hand

Your mind undermined

In a flinch

Under his hand

I’m afraid, I’m sorry

That you won’t recognise this binding, fixed position

Until he quenches his thirst in your objections, absorbing words into penetration

Wrapped in an ovarian chain of expectation

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This is a story, a pained sigh in the housing of a page.

A hundred pair of rolled eyes have bound this.

Left it sealed as tight as that hidden box of intellect that small girls pack away with the sound of the plastic rustling on their first padded bra.

It’s a stark view, the female mind to the outside

What do you contribute?

Encasing your mind in concrete, lest it be discovered and picked clean.

Ten words

Ten short moments

Ten ways to not be raped

Ten ways not be beaten beyond what you deserve

Ten ways to ensure that you are, after the age of ten, alive, dialled down, functioning and fully integrated.

Fucktoy                                Appreciative                      Pretty                   Muted                  Hesitant                               Chattel                 Accepting                            Sacrificing                            Forgiving                                                              Capitulating

From pigtails to rohypnol

This is the story of ten words to help you navigate, to fly under the dominating radar

To be the girl that is to be owned with a veil and a hymen intact, or at the very least a count under seven of previous owners.

A tale of ten small words to keep you small

To differentiate between Dolly and Doxie

Ho’ and Her.

Ten words preferable being fucked up the ass in an alleyway by a faceless stranger because he can and you can’t do a single thing to prevent it because you lost your way.

Distracted amongst the millions of words in the English language.

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I lost that little piece of soul that still existed

Between the there and the now

The day that my heart bled for the last time

I cupped my hands

Caught the lions share

Went about my business

There and the now

Being the useless waiting place

Where questions die on the lips

I keep mine hidden

Resignation stifles them behind glass walls

Of camaraderie and acceptance

Resignation keeps the cry from turning into a roar

I am old I realize

The certainty replaced with sagging skin

The determination matched by roots dying with age

Colour fading and care waning

I watch as the march goes on

It’s dwindling numbers eating away at the empty space

My heart died

Jackboot cracking psyche, will and bread at the table

I watch the show

As closely as I watch this rock gathering speed

Level the lives of the people it passes

Falling into this totalitarian path that is being carved

Voices fading, the fight waning, falling from the bones

Cracking like fine china in the squeezing grip

Of frenzied hunger, of entitled certainty, of churlish power

False promises, declarations of care, exclamations of empathy

Fall deaf and flat; my ears are battle scarred from a thousand men’s promises

They spit epitaphs for the disenfranchised, the worn and the hopeful

I catch the light in their eyes, waiting their time, biding their time

To rape, fuck, delve, strain, nail and tear open

Digging deep, drawing blood, opening the old wounds

One man replaces the other, same face, same game, same end

Come, conquer, come again, force you to swallow, and leave

Just another vessel to be left to clean itself up at the bottom of the pile

With every expulsion a past wrong is righted is it not?

A new wrong created for the next man to right

And with each wrong

My soul is further away, a faint line in the distance

Knowing you can never affect change is the quickest death.

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Fragments of mercy chilled

in the dank evening sweat

of expectation and patience

Stunned I am wasted

Polluting you with clinging envy

disguised as dumb cunt

shielded behind coy lashes and wry smiles

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