Creative | Posted by Nicole T on 07/15/2011

The Dishwasher’s Daydream

The sink-washed dishes clap thunderously as you dry them

against one another, as if attempting to ignite a fire between

two friendly sticks. The result: a broken dish

or another proclamation that “This cup…plate…bowl is cracking.”

The washed skin on my hand is growing apart, like the leather on

a cow’s back, and it goes down the drain, and gets cozy with the debris

along with the blood that came from cleaning knives too quickly.

You scurry around the kitchen, telling me about your day

as you shove the dishes into their proper places. The plates go

above the larger plates, and ceramic cups go into a different cupboard

next to the other things that aren’t identical in size and shape.

And if I were a bowl, I would be …

More >

Creative | Posted by Nicole T on 07/8/2011

The Girl Doesn’t Like to Compromise

the girl doesn’t like to compromise.

she likes to sip mauy tais while staring at guys and watching movies waddle across the television screen. the girl likes to tell the truth but is more comfortable with lies.

she kissed one of her boyfriends in secret because of his blue eyes, her girlfriend in secret because of her second pair of lips, and man that she carnally desired behind closed doors because of the extension between his hips, while

still touching finger tips with her girlfriend. Sometimes she wished that they were all just friends. The guys and the girl… and the other guys that are not mentioned. She wishes that she could sit in an apartment alone, while her girl and those guys pendulum closely by, and she can experience …

More >

Creative | Posted by Talia on 07/1/2011

He Promised Her A Rose Garden

It was 1976.

Peak of the women’s lib movement.

New York, New York.

Peak of the peak.

She was going for a PhD in psych.

She could, thanks to Betty Friedan.

“After you finish your PhD,” he told her,

“We’ll move to Long Island.

Have three or four kids.

Buy a house.

With a white picket fence,

And a rose garden.”

She was nineteen.

She fell for it.

A week after the wedding

He got fired.

It wasn’t such a surprise.

Between the mental illness

Never showing up

And long sick leaves

It was just a matter of time.

“I won’t get a job immediately,” he told her.

“You can type anywhere.

I have to do something important.

I have to have a career.

I’m the man of …

More >

Creative | Posted by Halee K on 06/24/2011

Feeling Beautiful

I can shoot lightning bolts from my fingertips

Poetry spouts like jewel-encrusted bullets

From my chapped lips

Soul shining like a beacon

Behind my eyes

Creating tiny worlds

With each sleepy sigh.

Beautiful is a fecund seed inside

Empowering all, despite the lies.

More >

Creative | Posted by Tesneem A on 06/17/2011

Sick

I’m sick and tired of you,

And I’m sick of the things you do,

I’m sick of the things you say,

And how you insist you have your own way,

For how can I forgive someone who can’t respect me and the choices I make,

A person who turns every rule I make into a rule to break?

My body is my temple and what happens to it is for me to decide,

And no, it is not just a matter of pride!

Shower me with all the sweet words you can say,

But I am not one you can easily sway,

You can try to make me cry out of guilt and sadness,

But it is all emotional blackmail I will not process.

Call me unlovable and stupid,

But …

More >

Creative | Posted by Tesneem A on 06/3/2011

My Anthem

I won’t follow your conventions; I’ll lead my own way,

And I will refuse to listen to those that say nay,

I’ll speak my mind and do whatever I like,

Whether you think I am wrong or right,

For who are you to judge me or the things I do,

When you have barely spoken to me for a second or two?

I’ll welcome your friendship with open arms,

Yes I’m kind and cool, don’t be alarmed!

But the day you treat me like dirt on the floor,

You’ll sling your hook, and there’s the door!

I am a person of value and high esteem,

No matter how anyone else tries to make me seem.

Bash me and bruise me if you dare,

I’ll still trust my convictions sans any …

More >

Creative | Posted by Tesneem A on 05/27/2011

No Body Is Perfect

Colour me flawless, colour me pretty,

Isn’t it enough that I’m smart, caring and witty?

I have my scars and I have my scratches,

I even have my fair share of bulges,

I wish that the skeletons would stay in their closets,

And that those cans of worms would remain closed,

But I can’t deny that I’ve had my woes,

For perfection for me is a far away dream,

Unattainable and ever elusively seen,

I know that life goes on, but I still despair,

No matter how much it looks like I don’t care,

But I wish it wasn’t so hard for me to let go,

It’s time to be resilient and live again, to be emancipated and elated,

Because if it’s true that the sky is the limit and …

More >

Creative | Posted by JessicaMc on 05/13/2011

Torture

Vaginas and clitorises and lips,

cut to pieces, ripped open,

stitched up, closed up,

torn apart like dispensable junk.

Hanging bits of flesh

falling to the ground

and blood-soaked thighs trembling,

shaking in anguish.

Smell the dehumanization,

taste the mutilation:

metal, tears, blood, dirt, and sweat

between your lips,

between hers.

A vagina, treated worse than a toilet:

things shoved up there, seized out,

forced in: sharp knives, rough hands,

oiled guns, splintered brooms,

metal handles, thick rods, angry fists,

broken bottles, bruised egos,

men’s patriarchal muscle hanging

from their legs thrust in.

Females from the equator

to the prime meridian

hold back, embarrassed –

believing what we’re told:

our vagina needs to be

pink and pretty, like a petunia

and smell like one too –

no imperfections: no knicks, …

More >