Look forward, don’t be a distraction.
Pull down your skirt, you’ll be a fatal attraction.
Don’t eat too much, your waist will show satisfaction
Don’t be aggressive, be gentle and meek.
Don’t be too ambitious, because the men will freak.
Don’t look up to Mrs. Clinton or Mrs. Obama, because they are anomalies
Look up to Kim Kardashian, that’s a female prodigy
You will always be smart, but don’t appear intelligent
Act like you need a man, don’t act negligent
Remember to act feminine, but don’t be a feminist.
Be a lady, don’t do too much.
Shhhh….don’t be so loud. Bring your voice down to a hush.
Use your body, don’t use your brain?
You want to be a CEO? Have you gone insane?
Never stand up to a man.
Your goal is to be married, do you understand?
See that girl over there? Size her up, that’s your competition.
You can never be as good as a man, because the world made that decision.
Hair, nails, makeup must be done to precision.
Find a man with money, so you don’t have to work
Just take care of the kids, and know the difference between a dinner and salad fork.
Be careful and don’t have too many male partners.
1 or 2 will do, but after that you can’t go any farther.
Only men can have sexual conquests, but if you did prepare to face the consequence.
Slut, whore, home-wrecker just to name a few.
Now you know, so don’t say I never warned you.
Be submissive, let a man be a man.
Let him take charge, weaken yourself as much as you can.
Know your place in society, because you got it made
You could be living in a country where women’s rights are a blockade.
Ever since we have been little girls, this has been etched into our psyche
That this is a man’s world, and we are just renting the space, ever so lightly.
But forget what you just read, and remember that a man’s world would not have been possible without a woman’s womb.
There used to be great rulers like Queen Elizabeth, and Nefertiti and Cleopatra who are still etched fabulously in their tombs.
Forget the rules of society, and be who you want to be
Don’t feed into the patriarchal negativity.
Run with the boys, leave your hair a mess.
Wear shorts or jeans, if you don’t feel like wearing a skirt or a dress
Study harder, then graduate top of your class as the very best
Show the world that you can!
And never apologize for not being a man
Always keep striving, and never ever stop.
Surpass all the boys and men, and do what you can to reach the top.
Never apologize for wanting to be seen as an equal.
If they tell you that your story will end because you are too ambitious, too feminist, too independent, or too unstoppable.
Remind them that you are a girl, then write your own sequel.
The story will never end, no matter how hard society tries to break you down.
So sit up straight, or slouch, cross or open your legs, do as you please
But never forget your invisible crown.
You are a queen, but this is not a fairy tale, or some romantic movie to make your toes curl.
This is the true life story of being a girl.
Mother, sister, girlfriend, wife, or daughter
No matter the title, it is up to you to be the author.
Tag Archives: poetry
So You Think You’re a “Meninist” – Alex Esterline
Before you read this article, if you have a problem with feminism (equality of the sexes), then you should probably just leave.
If you keep up with the feminist movement on any forms of social media, you’ve probably heard of the men who denounce the activism in the community by redirecting the issue on the challenges men face in society. Now, I’d like to make clear that their issues do exist. As a feminist, I clearly don’t hate men- as I identify as one- and I benefit from feminism as well. (All genders do). However, anti-feminist movements usually spend so much more time telling us why feminism is the root of all evil than they do helping the men that are discriminated against in society.
The movement I’m referring to is, of course, “Meninism”.
Meninism started as a patriarchal joke on twitter that was backed by a few problematic white boys. They eventually started growing a fanbase and shortly afterwards and turned into a serious movement.
When looking into the foreign world of meninism, it seems their main goal is to completely disregard the patriarchy while perpetuating inequality of the sexes. They also like to complain about issues that may or may not effect them- without actually doing anything about it. Meninists have attempted to re-invent the wheel as they ignore the positive effects feminism has on all genders. This metaphorical wheel, of course, is extremely bumpy.
Meninism’s main issues seem to be body-positivity in men and the unjust expectations of “masculinity”. Both of which are extremely valid points. However, meninism segregates those who could be fighting patriarchal notions (those of which are the source of sexism) alongside each other. Feminism aims to promote equality of the sexes, which is why it benefits other genders as well as women- the oppressed gender.
When meninists come along and turn the issue on themselves (which they will inevitably do), they are removing the focus from the issues that matter increasingly to oppressed women. Meninism would be a wonderful movement if they actually worked towards equality for all genders- the main point they attempt to make, since they immediately equate feminism with misandry.
Meninism as a movement should be rejected on its face because of its misogynistic roots and innate dismissal of structural violence towards women. Remember that feminism is a movement for equality, and distracting from that hurts yourself and others. Misandristic feminism is not feminism, and
Thoughts from The Grand Canyon – Reilly Wieland
The Grand Canyon seems to become more and more transcendentally ‘grand’, and the word appears to be more and more precise. This road trip seems to have become fantastical, like everything we have seen thus far cannot be explained in words. I am waiting for the greenscreen to fall and the stage producer is about to pop up and cut the scene.
In my life personally, I’ve tried to focus on “pleasure”. That word has a singularly sexual meaning but that’s not it. This trip has seemed to show me a lot of extraordinary things and people (or at least different sides of family) that I had not seen before that remind me that every moment of my peculiar and transient life is something so spectacular and meant to be celebrated.
I’ve seen a lot of beautiful things and I know it’s cheesy, but something about standing in front of the kind of place that makes me wonder how I have the audacity to feel anything but hopeful when a place like this is here is really amazing.
On that, I saw my first real dome sky, the kind that writers can pen novels about and you see as desktop backgrounds. The Earth was so flat that I could see the exact horizon arise and the sky rise like a bird’s nest, encasing me in. Skies like that will give you a strangely acute sense of reference in what the world can be. It seemed like the smog parted and everything came to me, like the little puzzle that I couldn’t find the last piece to anytime before.
This cross country adventure has seemed to teach me relevance, or at least made me comprehend the importance of giving my attention to the things that truly matter. In preparation for this trip, I focused too intently on outcomes: upcoming injuries, gas station food, sleepless nights.
The things that I thought would be big events at the beginning of the trip are, in fact, non-events of everyday life, all which I am not in control of. These non-events have made up this trip and my life. The irrelevancy of these miniscule annoyances seems to be overwhelming as I think about it.
What is relevant are the things that have come along with the injuries, the seemingly already perfectly preserved memories of the trip: the exact feeling you get staring at Zion, or at the Grand Canyon, or a dome sunset.
But in that, it seems short sighted to mark these non-events as unimportant. The non-events are also the events that act as catalysts for me to see the major happenings around me.
And those happenings in these moments are my life, and I want to take pleasure in them all.
there is nothing quite like the sound of I love you – Brooke Safferman
There is nothing quite like the sound of “I love you”;
So much promise in three little words
Yet not once did you even endeavor to prove them.
They are placeholders, conversation-starters ways to pass the awkward silences.
Words like band-aids, like a cherry lollipop after getting a shot;
The sound of your sweet little vows, lies or otherwise,
Somehow undo the damage that has already been done.
So I take your hand and I smile
Because there is so much security
In never having to believe a thing.
With you, I am safe in my euphoric world of denial
And with you, I have found my home in never having to expect sincerity.
There is nothing quite like the sound of “I love you”.
People Aren’t Medicine – Alexis Robson
You were broken when you were five,
It’s no wonder you were struggling to survive,
When your only support is a crutch of self-doubt,
How can anyone expect you to figure yourself out?
You lack the tools to fix yourself,
So you tend to turn to someone else,
To hold and guide you,
Always coming to your aid,
You forget the loneliness you felt when you were eight.
But using people as crutches is naïve,
Because eventually they get tired and leave,
And now you’re ten, but left again,
Struggling to figure out how to fit in.
People come and go,
But you become wiser and grow,
Soon you’re sixteen and have loyal friends,
And you realize there’s no point in trying to “fit in”.
The years fly and you turn eighteen,
And realize time has floated by like a dream,
You’ve learned to be your own crutch,
And that you used to overthink too much.
But life has taught you a lesson,
That you cannot use people as your medicine.
-a.r
Little Rectangles of Hope – Brooke Safferman
Little Rectangles of Hope
Anxiety.
It drips from your lips
Like some toxic saline solution
You always preferred for me to be the sweet one.
The unknown: the sun not yet risen, the butterfly still in his cocoon
I am suffocating from the words you will not say
Nervous and afraid, with those sweaty palms I love so much
Commitment was never really your style, no matter how painfully
I wish it was.
Worrying so strong, it becomes a tangible force
Quicksand, you laugh as you sink deeper within
I’ll play the role of the caretaker, you, the needy child
You throw your medication out when I look the other way.
Dull and numb, you say
You shake your head when I shove the bottle back at you
Commit to them, I plead
Commit to me, I plead
You shake your head when I shove the pressure back at you.
Whoever knew that an enemy could take the form of
Little rectangles of hope?
Just in Case – Ugonma Ubani-Ebere
In case you didn’t know, someone loves you.
In case you didn’t know, someone values you.
In case you didn’t know, someone adores you.
In case you didn’t know, someone depends on you.
In case you didn’t know, you are special.
In case you didn’t know, you are needed.
In case you didn’t know, you are wanted.
In case you didn’t know, you are important
In case you didn’t know, I appreciate you.
In case you didn’t know, I support you.
In case you didn’t know, I admire you.
In case you didn’t know, I am inspired by you.
Just in case you didn’t know how important you are to the universe, I thought I’d let you know.
I thought I’d let you know, just in case.
Can He? – Bianca Stelian
Ode to the poet
Whose wretched insides
Ache to create symphonies
Concertos of rhyme, seasoned with reason
But keeps it a secret.
His voice, a flame
Of passion and vigor
Vinegar
Rubbing salt in the wound
Makes a particular thickener
Raw with anticipation
Elation
The creation of patience the world’s friendliest patron
Sensation
But if he calms down or slows then nobody knows
For the pros who use prose are just masked by the blows
Of the older yet bolder visionaries with line breaks
Oh shit, there’s no rhyme
He scribbles and scrabbles till he comes up with one fine
Enough to make sense without being too bent that no heavenly sent angel likes what he’s crying
Dying
A dead profession
Parents said doctor or lawyer et cetera
But his mind is awash with the words it’s a plethora
Line after line he debates if he’s trying so hard that his eyeballs might pop off their retinas
But he’s not a slacker, a cheat who’s insane
He’s just a poor kid with too much right brain
He yearns to make words that will serve all his purposes
Verbages swirling all over his surfaces
Fortresses built with the strength of a circus kid
Everyone hates how his nerves give him worthlessness
Murderous curses so urgent he swerves into learning concerning new tactics for perfectness
Fervently churning away what he’s working on
Soon he’ll be ruler of burnouts and mirthlessness
STOP!
His fingers won’t work, they’re refusing to write
He curls up alone, all his demons in sight
He needs to get help before his psyche ignites
A torrent of pain and percussion alike
See, he’s just a guy with way too much to fight
He knows what to write but just not what is right
So sad but he won’t give up, laugh but he won’t trip up, slipping and skipping is not for what he signed up
Sickly, he mixes the words of his wisdom with intimate diction so smooth it needs no clean up
Finally found it, his voice that resounds it so fine he’s astounded he’s no longer grounded,
It’s a fight, it’s a battle, a kick in the asshole, a call to the action that makes him an animal
Now he’s on top of the world he’s a natural
Maybe the fame will make his voice speak national
Rationally tactical, tactically radical
Practically casual, casually masterful
Now he’s infallible, crazy, unflappable
Not giving up was his key to the capital
Till he collapses his mind will spit rhapsodies
Badder than travesties, synapses snapping the
Aura of more than can ever be scored rushing in through his system so sonic it’s alchemy
Finally here, he’s made himself clear, there’s no turning back and no, nothing to fear
A life filled with obstacles, hardships galore
Has turned him into something he’d always hoped for
And so, when he sits down
He knows there’s no shit now
He’s on the right path, yeah, his life is his wits now
Dying had made him much more of a man
Immortality nearing, all part of the plan
A symbol, an idol, as big as the Bible
Survival his life goal, a poet’s last stand –
A poet, he knows it, he’s broke it, he shows it
From boyhood to manhood, he can do it
He can.
Depth – Ian Dean
I hope that any recent bouts of bravery have shown that I am not so shallow.
To you, whose soothing voice is aloe.
I’ve never been one for simple phrases or words that don’t fit well together, so I leave sweet nothings to the romantically diabetic because it seems I have been using them forever.
I find myself here because I discovered a few months ago how I felt for you and I feel as now though beauty can be a medium for humor and intellect. Making me feel like less of a lost cause and bound to some benefit. You who could make me feel less like crucible for sorrow but conduit of confidence.
I still marvel at the mystery of you who was clever enough to make me, proclaimed beast with no chains, feel different somehow I like have to explain my innocent cause and hope that you would value my worth of my name because I’d do the same.
The same whose beauty is greater than damned damsel distressed and more compassionate than softest drop of water forming on the bud of a desert flower. She is often so busy but if I could contest that hundreds of hours awaited your attention
And now I’m feeling its power.
I don’t care for boasting and seeming so mighty
I’ll show how I care and ever so slightly
Look to your eyes
As you gather your breath,
And ask you a question
While gauging their depth.
Prom?
Blurred San Fransisco – Casey Miller
In the earlier hours before the gates are open and lights are on
He stays back near the ocean, avoiding the sting of solid ground
But slowly he must creep forth, and envelop those beyond the bridges
Into the city before dawn, creeping down past Maiden Lane
Surrounding the chatty store owners of the Embarcadero
Confusing the seals, who look around for their mates through the haze
Then past the city, onto the mainland
Cargo loading dock crew members shout through his mist
And men on their way to work must push through his gloom
Can he make it over the Oakland Hills today?
But yes, he must push past Berkeley and climb the uneven mass
Traveling along the highway, he forces himself to settle dew upon cars
As young drivers struggle to make their way to school
But he must continue, on to Mount Diablo
And when he finally reaches the foothills
The fog knows he has done his job.
Inkling 