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jia Jan 9
when you are a woman
you bleed the burden of being one
literally within every month
and metaphorically every single day
you polish the plates clean
you cook the cake delectable
you plan the garden to grow plants
you figure out your figures
you beg to be believed
you serve to be esteemed
you scream to be heard
to be seen, to be listened,
to speak, to be free
you consume the rage given
passed and inherited
genetically and immanently
you are born
yet you give birth too
being a woman is a revolution
verdigris Jan 3
A tremble begins to settle on seething skin
She is a maker of parasitical kin
It does not consume like a dancing fire
But it amplifies with a vision of curdling desire
Just like a mother, it grows like a molding seed
A miracle of the asexual spirit in a world of greed
Abrupt in nature, beloved by its own flesh and blood
It left an intangible mark inscribed on her soul in disguise of a hunch
A precautionary tale serves a special prevention of the ugly occurrence
What a marvelous delight it becomes when it reverts as a guide, full of opulence
But not in a sense of monetary value, rather a calculated demise

How does one understand a raw creation of wrath?
What will she become after venturing the thorny path?
Does an inquiry halts her progress in activating fury?
Is there an object of her ire that requires a narrative of her mutiny?
Why does the poison never spread like death in a rush?
Can she possibly raise an army to march with an uncontrollable urge of violence?
When will she endure the thinning of her lips to match the peace of a deafening silence?
Is there a warning to keep herself intact for the coming apocalyptic days?
Will it save the dormant history of her being through enactment of saving face?
The question remains unanswered, but the fulfillment of the instrumental vengeance shall prevail

The inappropriate conception is almost complete to its term
A note emerges from an acidic confinement for the preparation of a womanly stern
This clump of a girl is not a shameful creation for the sake of tragedy
If anything, the child's fulfilling rage will cleanse her ancestors as a token of remedy
There is no reminder of a continuing paternity names on her birth
No need for prophetic visions as she strikes down the Earth
An abundant offerings on her behalf shall never satisfy her
As the melting iron starts to sizzle the plumper skin, the blinding nostalgia of rage tastes better
She has no patience for warnings to initiate an appropriate plan
The hour of her sustainable war has begun
after five years without writing poetry, i have given birth once again.
Zywa Nov 2023
She submerges us

in a great deluge of words --


We're completely soaked.
Novel "Midnight's Children" (1981, Salman Rushdie), chapter 1-4 "Under the carpet"

Collection "Low gear [2]"
Jack Trainer Oct 2023
He has no choice but to pound her back,
to get her to let go of my arm as she bites down hard.
She says she hates me because I pulled her hair when she was a child,
I am a vicious man who lacks control over my anger.
I don’t disagree with her memories, but she adds more than I can remember,
In the moment, I can have blind rage and not remember a few minutes before.
She thinks I hate her, but I don’t. How can I convince her otherwise now?
I am no longer Father. Dad. Pops. I am my first name.
I see the wall that I created whenever I try to talk with her,
Not made of wood, but concrete. It’s made of a Roman mixture that will last for thousands of years.
My wife says, “Give it time”, but time doesn’t erode this wall.
Jeremy Betts Sep 2022
I catch myself sulkin' in a dangerous headspace far to often
Hope fadin' to nothin' as I witness this slowly becomin' a trend
Does life's chokehold ever loosen?
Possibly but probably only after recordin' just one more win
Does the fall from grace to then through the bottom of my rock bottom ever soften?
How many of life's knockout blows to the chin can I take before smelling salts are no longer an option
They completely stop workin', then, try as you might I can no longer be woken but I'm not dreamin'
I hate to think it but is my inner peace destin to be found in a cheap coffin from some morbid discount bin
Only then activatin' when they set me in and my body begins the process of decomposin'
I'm not that lucky, I already know how it'll end
Only leads to a destination for those with the designation of unforgiven
Seems like I was made pre-broken but more often than not the why is an overpriced question, so it's rarely spoken
How is any of this benefital to my survival and progression towards a vaguely promised fairy tail endin'
Feels like regression made it it's mission to win the tug o war competition and it's lookin' like it did while barely tryin'
There's only so far I can bend, destined to give in, I'm sayin' when with a voice through a digital pen
Regardless who's payin' attention, wether anybody likes it or not there's no stoppin' or dodgin' what's comin'
If history's taught me anythin' it's that there's no way this isn't happenin', it's both out of my hands and out of the question
I won't beg you to listen, the dead end repetition has caused me to bail on even the lowest bar of expectation
I'm not strong enough to keep goin', I can no longer pretend, can't count on myself to treat myself like a friend
I've never known or at least have forgotten how to mend, now I'm the firey wreckage of a doomed hydrogen Zeppelin
A bad idea tried over and over again, full send, hand your beer to a friend, yeah, we all know that definition
I'm a multi fasited paradox, like water and oil mixin', or a Christian followin' what Jesus was actually teachin'
Good and evil coexistin' under the same skin so there's a constant battle ragin' within
Given advice but don't listen, cost of hate skyrocketin' but I'm buyin' in without even researchin'
Ignorin' every critical warnin' while needlessly explorin' the landmine riddled mess I'm in
My own reflection is a poor representation, I begin witnessin' the facade crackin' revealin' a twisted perfection
But perfection was never the requirement, but still a required lesson
I couldn't begin to tell you how many times I was a dollar short of payin' attention
Realization sets in mid tail spin, lost all sense of direction, my guidance system way overdue for an inspection
But once again no one gets in even though I'm desperately needin' a licensed technician
My problems baffle the best of list of repair men to the point they go searchin' out a new profession
I'm an occupational hazard, a coward, findin' the bad in every good situation, a magnet for confrontation
Then I start thinkin', maybe my malfunction is beyond repairin' so I focus in on my masks restoration
The projection of a sane person is important as to not draw attention to this infection of darkness that's spreadin'
An infestation of my past, present and future anxieties manafestin', fear on every station, runnin' into problems at every elevation
A hate hate relation, both comin' from and directed at the same person
Cursin' my own existence as every action taken to better this god forsaken life adaptation only sees the situation worsen
What's the solution? Where do I even begin lookin'? Is there a guide I could or should be followin'?
If I told you hope was taken all the way back before my creation I'm sure it'll have you thinkin' I must be mistaken
But I have no stake in or reason to lie, no exaggeration needed when the truth alone is so friggin frightenin'
Don't come a knockin', you wouldn't want me to invite you in, the den is set up like a ***** dungeon
Horrendous ***** happenin' within these walls, under my skin, you couldn't and shouldn't try to imagine
It'll break you down like a fraction, plus, I can't say that I can see the attraction
You're gonna have to come up with an explanation for that one again, start from the beginnin'
'Cause I thought I made the warnin' clear, extra bold between each quotation, reiderated in every caption
Let me give you some life changin' advice son, run, don't look back till you see kingdom come on the horizon
I'm not one to bet on, a hopeless lost cause, it'd do you well to move on

©2022
RatQueen Aug 2023
There's too much of me
So I slice into parts
Don't know who I am
Who I was
Where to start
My fingertips stained
a raspberry color
Let's cut off another
Another
Another
My softness dismantled
Set the mood
light some candles
This hole inside grows
So I must learn to handle
Those times where my head was held under water
Men dont give a **** if "that's somebodys daughter"
When all that you've taught me is I should be better
I think of my past self and send em a letter
The version of me that was put under ground
Carving into myself cause I cant speak out loud
Skipping breakfast and dinner or stuffing our faces
For some sense of control
To hope it erases
The feeling inside
that all that you can be
Is how flesh meat and bone
Hangs off of your body
When your own heart could stop
From barely a flutter
Flesh of the womb
Laying wet in the gutter
Taking what's ours
They go on with their lives
Resorted to tonics and herbs
Backyards and midwives
He said it's not that bad
you ******* faker
Beat in her face
Just to text her phone later
All my exes are crazy
I just wanted to bang her
Cut her down from the rafters
when you know what hanged her
It's funny it's sad
at the end of the day
We're in hell together
Across hot coals we lay
Dress your own wounds
Don't bend over for them
Instead let's
Redacted
Redacted
Redacted
Goddess Rue Aug 2023
Black Dahlia tears,
Beckoned beneath the crimson,
Bloodbath gleamed garden.
Dear white dahlia,
Flushed with extremity,
Desire to wound,
With a wounded heart,
Restlessly witnessing,
That guilty presence,
Of now Black Dahlia,
Plaguing me.

I detest this infestation,
It manifests hues of blues,
As I stood there tearing,
The garden I cared for.
Elizabeth Zenk Jul 2023
I feel my teeth rattle loose in my skull.
Fingernails whittled down to rounded stems.
But evermore is the vile spew of rage from within me.
Although my incisors give way for your beating flesh
I still wrap my jaw around your gullet.
The feeling of your pulse on my tongue is elating.
Feel the way it rises and falls with every clench.
Like a beaten dog I gnash these blackened teeth.
Forever perpetuating the harm that has been done to me.
Working to muzzle myself.
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