Creative | Posted by Molly B on 10/19/2012
You don’t get to say
That because I was born with these parts
And not those
That I have to wear eyeliner
Or make someone breakfast
Or suck a dick
You don’t get to say
That I’m not a nice young lady
Because I cuss and smoke
And I don’t fit into the box you built for me
It’s not my job to clean the house
Because of the vagina between my legs
And I don’t need your permission
I can work harder
And run faster
And out fight most of the men I know
There is nothing wrong with me
Just because I come from a land you’ve never been to
And speak a language you can’t learn
Don’t berate me
Just because I’m out of your …
Creative | Posted by Katie M on 09/21/2012
We all know I’ve given you everything,
that – as far as I’m concerned sometimes – I have nothing left.
You took it all, because I gave it. Freely, willingly, without hesitation,
you didn’t have to ask.
Sometimes you didn’t.
I’ve given you all my words,
and now I don’t have much more to say.
At least, I won’t, when I finally tell the whole big scary truth –
which, despite my best efforts, I have yet to do.
When I say that it’s all out there… Well, that’s a lie.
Some of my secrets I’m still keeping.
Some of my wounds, well, they’re still bleeding.
You cut me deep, you know, and I can still see the scars.
You said you wanted it to have always been my choice.…
Creative | Posted by Tiffany C on 05/4/2012
One Night Stand
Did she mention how I’m the girl of the moment?
Splashed across magazine cover pages like dripping acid from batteries
Radioactive toxic waste
How could you.
How could you.
Your bright blue eyes, cornflower blue—they said
He’s a gentleman and knows manners long dead
But you really weren’t; not at all what they said
Should I listen to them or the voices in my head?
Tell me this is wrong because it feels so right and I can’t think anymore
No end in sight
Your poisoned words so dark, so deep, penetrating their sickly message beneath
Smudged lipstick and weak resistance
And I’m not too sure what the truth is anymore
So when you tell your girlfriend the next day
Clock’s at 7; the minute hand set slightly off
Creative | Posted by Blue Rose on 03/30/2012
He’s inching closer ,
I’ve seen it before .
His lips ask love but his tongue says whore .
He caresses farther,
I am not there.
He kissed me back to my 8th year.
Momma just watches,
She kinda laughs.
Kevin is done so he strokes my calf.
I am defiled
I am dirt
I am handled
I am hurt
9 years later
A pawed up pet
I am not completely corrupted yet.
They can take my body,
And shatter my heart.
They can feed me lies,
And rip me apart.
They will grope every inch of me . I need it to feel whole
They will squeeze my being ,
But never molest my soul.
He’s inching closer,
I’ve seen it before.
His lips ask love but his tongue …
Creative | Posted by Bryan N on 02/3/2012
society told her she was ugly and she bought into the lie
she dissected every bit of herself for judgmental inspection
and tried to feel beautiful all in vain
comparing herself to photoshopped figures on a magazine page
I saw the sadness in her eyes
as she flipped through the shit they use sexualized bodies to advertise
subliminal brainwash since birth that writes on the mind
I want her to feel beautiful in the body she was born with
feel happy in her skin
never satisfied with the body she is in
compliments never do shit so where do I begin
she points at bodies she says are perfect
not knowing that she is too
sadness blooms as she starts to slip
downward spiral spin
cuts down on meals to …
Creative | Posted by Quin R on 01/13/2012
You See A Body
You see a body; not a person,
Mind you, that’s above your comprehension
But a body-strike that-an object, a plaything
A dish to be sampled to satisfy some sick craving
Never mind that you don’t even know her name,
Much less her personality, her interests, but it’s just a game
To you isn’t it? It’s not as if she really has time to give
A damn, what with everything heaped upon her just to live!
Between the driving, and the career, the shopping, the cooking,
The raising the children, the endless workouts, the starving herself to keep looking
Just as skinny as you could damn well please, thank you very much! The night class,
The no-sleep, the three-minimum-wage-jobs-just-to-make-rent, but she’s just a piece of ass
To you, isn’t she? She …
Creative | Posted by Julie Z on 12/30/2011
Winner of FemFlash 2011: Male Privilege
I recently had the honor of co-judging a Feminist Flash Poetry and Fiction contest (called FemFlash) for the website MookyChick. The winner of the contest was recently announced and I’m proud to cross-post the winning poem: “Male Privilege” by C. Askew. Read the other finalists here.
by C. Askew
Give me the shovel.
Give me the tattoo gun’s kiss on my skin.
Give me the hard day’s work.
Give me the graveyard shift.
Give me the white van.
Give me lager and the night.
Give me the warship and the race car.
Give me the walk home alone.
Give me the chainsaw.
Give me the streetlit alleyway.
Give me the roadmap’s cryptic veins.
Give me the fearless midnight park.
Give me the swagger.
Give me …
Creative | Posted by Emaan M on 09/23/2011
Jane had pretty poetry
And hands the size of shoes
And swirling inky look-at-me tattoos
On the trophy shelves of her skin
And Jane never thought twice about you
And nor did she digress;
Don’t help me once, just hurt me
Yet in the eyes of everyone Jane was a trailer-worthy mess.
And some sweet girls they said things about Jane
How small and suffocating cotton would stick to her skin
How a boy with dark hair and slinky eyes
Boasted about the game and the win-
Yet no one ever seemed to whisper anything poisonous about him.
Friends, teachers, the
do-gooders and world-changers
Her righteous church-community youth leader
Would always have their little snickers of Jane
And that’s what drove her from church.
And no one ever had …