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Social Woman Poems | Social Poems About Woman

These Social Woman poems are examples of Social poems about Woman. These are the best examples of Social Woman poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Verse | |

Secretly Obsessed

Obsessed with the thought of you
wondering if it's only me or
if you sometimes remember the sweet things you've said
and if you meant them how I took them
or if I'm just obsessed with what's in your head

Obsessed with your very sentences
Every response I take personal
I know it's selfishness
Have you not noticed my eyes?
They hold secrets that only you can unlock
if you'd just take time to fill the thick juices of my pride
It's just boiling with lust, passion, trust and distrust
and other things I obsess over so much

I find myself writing to free myself from this prison I've created
where only you and I reside
I become confused about what I'm really feeling inside and I 
try to rid the thoughts that are highly debated as false and I
begin to cry and
think of casting love spells so that the universe can deliver this affair
I know it's unfair
but I don't care

I'm obsessed with what hasn't happened between us
I'm obsessed with your heart and that the fact that 
I don't think you've even noticed my selfish innuendos 
and secret undertones that blatantly express my lust
Or maybe you have and you calmly remain in resistance of distrust 
If you could only read my mind by simply touching my fingertips,
I'm sure I'd catch you out the corner of my eye biting your bottom lip
I'm obsessed with the passion and thoughts I think you have
Obsessing over an experience that I may never have....






Details | I do not know? | |

RIP Virginity

Dear Sir,my innocence is gone now, no more fear ,
Do you love to **** me again, I am always here.
I wonder when you taught me how to use a pen,
I was so into you but my ****** was in pain !
I was crying, i was too immature to understand
I was turning only 13, I couldn't feel what happened.
but I promise I never forget what you taught me at the end.
I begged you to stop and I looked into your eyes,
there was a reflection of a cruel world,that what I deserved!
Don't be afraid, mommy never knows what you did,
Nobody knows that you made me bleed.
Dear sir,my innocence is gone with all my tears,
as I had no safe place to hide myself from fears.
Nobody saw anything as your world was blind!
having hidden hatred inside,a virgin died.
Dear sir, time cannot erase your memories,
time doesn't heal all wounds,that you marked,
yes,you took my innocence that will be always on my mind.


Details | Italian Sonnet | |

Dream Forever

Thee, are my deepest emotions; taken beyond; my control.
Thou do express love; sweeter; than view of sunshine.
One single touch, from you, feels so fine.
No thoughts of your face would ever console.
Desires; that when I see you, I fight to control,
My heart; is blinded by numbers more than nine.
My soul is bound to you with more than twine.
Thee taketh my senses, beyond, compression of coal.

My blustery habits; are taken; when I see thee, with him.
Coal contracts to brilliant diamonds from pressure, we are told.
My heart aches for thou, under the pressure of seeing his kiss.
No brilliancy of any treasure shines; only a full moon goes dim.
My desires are real; though they have no growth; in gold.
Thee, shall be my dream forever, though I shall have no bliss.


Details | Verse | |

Ding Dong The Wicked Witch is Dead

Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Thatcher’s dead.

Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Thatcher’s dead.

Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Thatcher’s dead.

Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Thatcher’s dead.


Details | Verse | |

My Words

Sometimes my poetry is just a case of words, 
and not necessarily my reality;                                     
and that’s what is so beautiful about writing

You can be who you want to be on any level 
and tell secrets about fantasies that may never be;  
or take trips to other dimensions on mental journeys,                                                                        or places that some don’t even think exist

They mimic thoughts that manifest themselves as poetry 
and rest on pages patiently waiting to adhere
My words are a reflection of my heart 
and they reveal the truth behind my mask of fear
they deliver reality doses  whether they are just cases, 
or me in the absolute right here

My words exude positive intentions; 
my imperfections apparent but I accepted rejections 
and reversed dejection  
and decided to bare all my fantasies, my flaws my very soul 
and temptations

Uncertain how voiced verses appeal to outside sources but internally they set me free
They provide a medium of light and creativity
A chance to apply knowledge and a time for reflecting on and making changes in my frequency
My words are attached to my soul and its overwhelming ability to just be
They reflect what I was before         
the choices I’ve made and the reasons that this life is perfect 
according to divine order

They represent the voices of my ancestors from the beginning of time 
because up until now, 
the ending wasn’t within reach so I make sure that I
carefully choose the format and the right place and time 
to deliver the message that may be blatant or hidden inside – 
of the abstract placements of verbs
giving praise to the source of power that calmly submits to the voice 
connected to my words
I am the originator of my own words
I hope that you are inspired, or simply entertained
by the process by which I've placed my words


Details | Rhyme | |

Would You Have Sex With Me

"Would you have sex with me?" I asked the woman adorned in her dress of fine lace.
She approached and proceeded to smack me right across my face.
I saw another beautiful woman and asked her the very same thing,
which resulted in my getting smacked across my face again.
Over and over I asked many beautiful women the very same question,
and over and over the result for me was always the same.
I was then approached by a gentleman who then did ask,
"What are you, some sort of sick and deranged masochist?"
"No," I replied, "I'm an optimist.
It only takes one to answer Yes."


Details | I do not know? | |

A Story My Mother Told Me

someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband 
who was in exile at the time...

in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...

the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...

one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...

the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay

the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...

the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...

a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...

the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...

by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...

but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...

the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...

the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...

and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...

the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...

she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...

the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...

‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...

the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...

the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...

Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...

then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...

the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...

a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...

the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...

Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...

This was in the mid-1970’s...

Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...

the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...

a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...

a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...

and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...

and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...

hope...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


Details | I do not know? | |

The Women



The Women



(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)



Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,

they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.



They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,

and white was right in South Africa back then,

but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,

you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.



You, my mother, would not, could not break,

You stood firm, you stood tall.

You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.



You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,

the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,

my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,

by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.



You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.

You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,

you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,

you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.



Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,

all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.



I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,

the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.



I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,

you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,

of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.


I salute you!



(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)






Details | Rhyme | |

I'm Not the Kind of Person God Wants Me to Be

I’m not the kind of person I need to be! There’s too many problems inside of me! I’m not the kind of person you’d want to know… I’ve too many worries and a troubled soul! I’m the kind of person who has a lot of stress! Lately, my life has been one big mess! I’m the kind of person who doesn’t have a friend. You listen to me now… But may never see me again! I’m the kind of person who’s gone through pain! I wake up some days, and don’t even know my name! I may not be the kind of person you’d want to be around. I may get discouraged, and “get you down.” I’m the kind of person who’s giving Jesus a chance… I know he loves me! Whatever the circumstance! I’m the kind of person who needs a lot of prayer! I know that God listens! And is always there! Please help me Jesus! That I may be set free! May it be your love that others will see! Thank you Jesus! For being my savior and friend! You’re someone that this person can always depend! I’m not the kind of person that Jesus wants me to be! That’s why I need more of HIM! And LESS of me! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Rhyme | |

There's A Web of Temptation And Sin

There’s a Web of Temptation and Sin!

There’s a web of temptation and a lot of sin…
That brings slavery and a strong bondage within!

Throughout this land, there’s an evil surge!
While many lives, seem to be getting “submerged!”

Being submerged, into a life, that many believe in.
They become perverted, but want all to receive them!

The “love and acceptance,”
 that many desire.
Puts them on a tightrope!  A very thin wire!

As the web of temptation and sin begin to grow.
It brings a bondage that damages the soul!

They may want to have “love and acceptance.”
But in their hearts, needs to be a godly repentance!

May the holiness of a righteous God be stirred!
That all will come back, to the truth of his word!

His son Jesus, came to the cross! He bled and died!
That through him, our lives can be totally sanctified!

Only the power of God, can bring a needed restoration!
He gives to one and all… 
 A heavenly invitation!

Whosoever will… Come now!  And accept him!
Won’t you take the time, to really know him?

Don’t allow the web of life to destroy 
and overcome you!
Come to Jesus now!  He really does
 LOVE YOU!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | ABC | |

I Am Who I Am

Its bad enough that everyday I walk down memory lane, &&' It really puts me in alot of pain. I've been doing the best that I can, but I am who I am. I'm getting tired of everyones exspectations, people always pulling me in different directions. Even when I'm falling down, people still push me on the ground. I'm gonna keep trying, no more lying. No more games, done mentioning names. Being two-faced isn't cool, it just makes you look like a fool. I'm never looking back, that life was wack. I'm done trying to make everyone happy, when they treat me so crappy. I may not have alot of friends, in the end, but atleast I don't have to pretend. I'm gonna be true, with or without you. You'll see, I'm done letting people get to me.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Nameless - for South Africans of all colours who fought for freedom


The Nameless


Slipping through the sieve of history,

the nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are roads renamed, nor monuments built.

Not for the nameless are songs sung, nor ink spilled.

The nameless rest.

Their silent sacrifice,

quiet ordeal,

muted trauma,

remain interred,

amongst their remains.

The nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are doctorates conferred, nor eulogies recited.

Not for the nameless are honours bestowed, nor homages directed.

The nameless rest.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

in every step that we tread.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

for their spirit is not dead.


“Your name is unknown, your deed is immortal”
- inscription at The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier WWII in Moscow


Special thanks to my dearest elder sister Tasneem Nobandla Moolla, whose conversations with me about life as a non-white person growing up in pre and post-Apartheid South Africa prompted me to write this dedication to the countless, nameless South Africans of every colour, whose sacrifices and dedication in the struggle against Apartheid tyranny must never be forgotten.


My sister’s middle name ‘Nobandla’ which is an isiXhosa name and means “she who is of the people” was given by her godfather, Nelson Mandela, my father’s ‘best-man who could not be, as Nelson Mandela was unable to-make it to my parent’s wedding as he was in jail at the time in the old Johannesburg Fort. This was the 31st December 1961.


Details | Free verse | |

I'll Stand For You

I am standing for the woman that is too weak to stand,
A string of abuse she has suffered all her life long. 
She believes she is on her own no one to support her
So I will be her strength and support, her verbal backbone.

Let me then tell you Mr. Abuser, I will not stand aside,
While you tear down the walls of the weak and feeble.
In your face I’ll stand, with my shoulders squared fast,
Been there, stepped up, overcame, so that is my armor.

Now that’s not where I’ll leave it, more needs to be done
For the woman that is weak and feeble in self esteem.
A rescue is not the wherewithal, there has to be a goal
For her to strive unto, on the road she'll walk to being whole.

Encourage her to use her past of pain, to build
A better self for her future and make her fears
Be the rock on which she stands, to reach higher
Above the murk of abuse and self-mutilation. 



  

For Debbie's contest:  Stand


Details | Rhyme | |

The halo effect

If there is one thing I remember
It is what life told
Just open your eyes
All that glisters may not be gold
So who is to blame and whose fault I hold
The halo effect, the one in disguise
Manifesting deception in front of thy eyes
Treat one different because of their look
Why read? Judge the cover of the book?
But you do read others because they don’t have the look
If you understand, how long has it took?
The halo effect, we magnify a trait
Condone the flaws, we magnify a trait
Attractiveness, is this what you mean?
All this talk, my perception a feign?
What I see, aint what it seem?
Huh, thanks for this, as well as that.
The halo effect, my mind was hacked. 


Details | Haiku | |

MUSIC - HAIKU

Play The Radio Get Up And Dance All Night Long Music Heals The Soul


Details | Ballad | |

BESIDE EVERY GREAT WARRIOR OF OLD

Men were given total dominion
over all living things, and when
they subdued their enemy:
they were granted immortality!

Beside every great warrior of old, 
there was a strong woman of humility,
who gave him a victorious  sword;
and helped him change the course of history! 

Emperess Theodora was one of them to show adversity;
when Noka's revolt broke out:  she decided to stay,
while her hushand, Justinian, fled the city;
what an admirable act of feminity!

Beside every great warrior of old,
there seems to be a look of invincibility,
a defying moment to obtain glory;
and the cost for a golden crown is well-known!

Be the warrior of modern times, treatened by fear and fragility, 
seek out the man you were destined to be;
trust that woman who posseses internal beauty,
and beside this warrior, her courage will guide you with dignity!


Details | I do not know? | |

For Men Everywhere One Billion Rising

1 Billion Rising.

For Men Everywhere.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

Stop!

Stop the abuse!

Of grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Listen!

Listen to the voices!

Of grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Think!

Think of how you treat,

grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Act!

Act now to change yourself!

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

stops when you stop,

the violence,
the abuse,
the rape.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

is perpetrated by,

grand-fathers,
colleagues,
boyfriends,
husbands,
nephews,
brothers,
partners,
fathers,
uncles,

men,

all men.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

stops when us men stop,

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

today, now.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!


Details | Rhyme | |

Parents Need To Be In Church With Their Children


Parents Need To Be In Church With Their Children… Many parents bring their kids to church… Hoping they’ll be a “better person.” They want them to hear about God. And listen to the “Sunday lesson.” They often tell the children to listen and obey God’s ways. But you’ll never see the parents at church on Sundays! They’re “too busy” to spend time with God... Even at home. Then tell their children they love them. And often leave them alone. They parents don’t want to take the time to give them their attention. They want the Sunday school teacher to give them a “moral direction.” Parents need to be the man and woman God wants them to be! They need to have Christian principles that their children can see! Won’t you be there for your children and help them to understand… What it means to be a Christian. And to be a Godly woman or man! It’s Christ’ desire that you as parents be a Godly example! There’s just too many temptations for your kids to handle! Living for God. As a family. Is the best thing you can do! Christ stands at your heart’s door… The rest is up to YOU! By Jim Pemberton 11/16/11


Details | I do not know? | |

The Petty Posh-WahZee - Liberation and Ostentation



The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation


The Not-So Distant Past:

The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves,
their battered, fragmented bones, mixed with a handful of torn rags,
are all that remain, a mute reminder of their selfless valiant sacrifice.

They endured brutal Apartheid harassment, detentions without trial,
torture in the cells, and mental anguish when loved ones disappeared,
they left their homeland, to continue the struggle against racial bigotry,
while countless others fought the scourge of white-minority rule at home.

Nelson Mandela and many, many others, spent their lives imprisoned,
on islands of stone, and on islands of the cruellest torture, yet they stood,
never bowing, never scraping, they stood, firm for ideals for which they were prepared to die,

and many, many comrades did die, at the hands of the callous oppressor,
and many, many comrades perished in distant lands, torn from their homes,
while the struggle continued, for decades, soaked in blood, in tears, in pain.


The Present:

19 years have passed, since freedom was secured at the highest of prices,
delivering unto us, this present, a gift of emancipation from servitude,

a freedom to walk this land, head held high, no longer second-class citizens,
in the land of our ancestors, whose voices we hear and need to heed today.

I do not care much for fashion, Lewis-Fit-On and Sleeves unSt.-Moron,
yet the ostentation that I witness baffles even my unsophisticated palate,

our ancestors' plaintive whispers are being dismissed, left unheeded, as
we browse the aisles for more and more, always for more and yet more.

Asphyxiated by the excess of the Petty Posh-Wahzee, we find ourselves,
perched precariously on the edge, of a dissolution of all that is humane,

babies go hungry, wives are battered, our elders left in hospitals for hours,
I cringe as I scribble these words, perhaps too sanctimonious and preachy,

yet I know, deep in the marrow of my brittle bones, I know, I know, I know,
this tree of freedom planted by the nameless daughters and sons of Africa,

needs to be shielded, nurtured, protected from our very own baser impulses,
so that the precious tree of freedom, may bear the fruit that may feed us all,

for if not, then we are doomed, to tip over, and into the yawning abyss, we shall fall.








Details | I do not know? | |

One Billion Rising

Today we rise.

No more hiding in the shadows,

of culture,
creed,
tradition.

No more silent complicity,

defensive arguments,
sickening pretences,
shabby excuses,

for the actions of men,

brutal and coarse and vulgar and obscene and murderous and abusive.

Today, we rise,

as one.

Today the change starts,

with me,
within me.

Today we rise.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

An End to Aloneness

In my life I often feel I am alone; alone in my thoughts, alone in my musings, alone in my day-to-day movements and unsatisfying activities. I move like a ghost through hallways and down sidewalks, unnoticed and, at times, gratefully so. 
I do not wish to be eternally alone. I long for togetherness. But despite this desire for a real connection, I find myself regularly retreating from that temperamental beast that is human interaction. 

“Come on now, sweetheart. Don’t lower your head. Don’t look away. Look up! Smile at someone! No! Don’t go back into your bedroom. Don’t lock the door! Why are you doing this?” my brain will plea. 

I can’t help myself. Aloneness is comfortable. In being alone, I don’t have to worry about anyone but myself. I don’t have to please anyone else. I can think anything I want, wear anything I want, listen to anything I want, and laugh at anything I want. 

And still there remains that nagging desire to be loved and wanted and needed by somebody. I do not know the feeling of being truly desired. I do not know what it is like for someone to crave my company, my smile, my kiss, or my touch. 

                                                                              But I would like to…

I cannot make someone love me or like me or want me in some primal way. It may hurt, but I cannot make that handsome boy want to hold my hand or brush my hair back behind my ear. I can only struggle on. I can only work within myself. I can only try every God damn day to hold my head up, keep my eyes fixed ahead, a give the world the best smile I have. I and I alone can bring myself out of the safety of my bedroom and into the bright world that lies beyond that locked door. 
	
I often find myself alone with nothing more than my thoughts and the ever-strong glow of a computer screen. But no longer will aloneness be the constant in my life. It is true that never having known the caress of a man’s hand on my thigh doesn't make me any less of a woman, but I fear that if I stay confined within myself much longer I will begin to become less of a human. A flower cannot grow if it retracts its leaves and petals every time it feels the warmth of the sun or the kiss of a gentle spring rain.  
	
And I want to grow. I want to grow so tall and blossom so big and beautifully that every place on earth is touched by my shadow at some point in the day. And I will grow. I will push myself and share myself with the world, and finally
							                                 finally
								                                   finally
know the closeness and comfort of love and honest, unabashed companionship.


Details | Verse | |

I like your love

I like your love
It's pure, it's innocent
and I don't think I've seen this before

You replenish my reserves before it's necessary 
you lift my wings up and 
make me superior to my adversary 
Creatively providing the exact amount of 
what I need to go another day
I like your love
and for as long as you'll have me I'll stay

You make me comfortable in my space
What she share cannot be replaced
with any other type of love
be it artificial or tainted or lustfully blatant 
Those illusions don't exist because
we found this love and we claimed it

I cherish those nights when I scratch your head
When you sit between my thighs and I twist your dreads
We become an us that is so pure
that the spring waters question the purity of it's source
I like your love - it's a divine force


Details | I do not know? | |

The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims

The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims.


When hot lead tears the flesh of a 14 year old girl,

ripping through her skull,
leaving her to bleed out and die,

does Allah not recoil in horror,

to see His child whimper,
to see His daughter cry.

Where is the indignation,

the anger that often boils over and manifests itself as flags and books and videos are burnt in mass orgies of hollow piety,

where are the voices that scream so loud,
that denounce all but their own creed,

where are the men, the impotent men who crave for nothing more than their fascist egos to feed,

where are the voices that so loudly proclaim,
enemies here and enemies there, always quick to condemn,

where are those voices when the enemy walks amongst them.

14 year old Malala Yousafzai was shot in cold blood,

her crime?

Advocating the rights of girls to an education.

Shame on you, men of bigotry and men of cowardice.

Shame on you, silent and mute accomplices in this carnage.

Shame on me,
for my inaction,

Shame on us all,
who proclaim lofty ideals,

yet are conspicuously silent,

when a 14 year old girl is shot in the head,

by fascist fundamentalist bigots who only worship bullets of hot lead.

Not in my name!

Not in my name,
shall the cowardly men rain down abuse,

Not in my name,
shall the bigoted men light the communalistic fuse,

Not in my name,
shall Malala Yousafzai be shot in the head,

left to bleed out,
while countless mothers' tears are shed,

not in my name,
shall religious murderers,
be left to wander free,

not in my name,
for I dare all believers to open their eyes,
to see!

To see,
the innocence of a 14 year old girl,
wanting only an education,

as the men of the cloth,
prance around with their pathetic self-righteous indignation.

I write this today,
the anger raging in my veins,

yet I fear,

that I shall write more of this,

unless we stand up and say 'no more',

I fear that I shall be writing this again,

until we all,

reclaim the true principles of humaneness,

until we silence the voices of bigotry,
of rage,
of fanatical insanity,

I fear I shall be writing this again,

and,

until the muck-ridden bile,
is not excised,

I shall continue to say,

NOT IN MY NAME!

Or else I shall have nothing,

but my unending shame.



(for Malala Yousafzai, 14 years old, in a critical condition after being shot in the head by the Pakistani Taliban, for her work as a young activist advocating the rights of girls to attend school)


Details | Rhyme | |

Come and Go Chicago

Come and Go Chicago – Zamreen Zarook
 
Where are you going my lady?
Where are you from my sweetie?
What ever you ask my buddy,
You won’t get the paddy.
 
She became a liar,
Because of your chore,
Two questions that you murmur,
Master, don’t forget that you were the rear.
 
You became a sinner,
Without knowing what is inner,
Now you know the manner,
So, never to forget the dinner.

Cease to care for those questions,
Nothing you gain from the considerations,
Everyone has their own equations,
So,they do have their explanations.

 


Details | Verse | |

I blame me

I blame me for all my mistakes
I blame me for all the rejection and heartache
I blame me for all the times I stayed silent 
and should have started and earthquake
with my words
I should have spoken up when I had the chance
now all those thoughts are wasted
unspoken, unheard

I blame me when my husband touches me 
and I feel the hands of a predators pounce
And I blame me when the pressure it on
because all I had to do was shout out and renounce His name
Lord, help me to get rid of the shame

I blame me for my loneliness
I blame me for my feelings of lust
I blame me when I look at myself and see absolute disgust
I blame me when I shut down - unsure of who to trust
At times not even sure if I really know how to love

I blame me when my kids are crying out sick
because when I brought them here
I knew that this world was unfit
Yet overpowered by my love for them 
I became more and more protective
So I blame myself in advance for their sadness
when they finally see that the world is not objective

I blame me for those nights I can't rest
Wondering if my consciousness has finally realized
that I have done my best
to stay positive and have good intentions
So I blame myself when I give in to temptations and my human inhibitions
and begin to feel ashamed of myself
I begin to feel like I don't have enough strength to love myself
because
good things don't happen for me
So I blame me for my thinking and feelings of worthlessness

It's a big world and my lonely soul has no more confidence
I have nothing
I have given up 
and so I blame me for my incompetence and my soul's rut


Details | Free verse | |

An Unfinished Story

Step by step,
hand in hand,
I was always there for you.
Ups and downs,
lost and found,
I was always there for you.

Even though you never believed in us before,
and you chose the most hurtful way to slam the door,
I was always there for you.

You moved on quickly, never looked behind,
even though I smile today, it still hurts when I rewind.
Through happiness and pain,
every loss and every gain,
I have always been there for you.

The question still exists, the question about us,
my beautiful dreams went up in dust.

Now that you are here in front of me,
it brings back a rush of old memories.
You say hello, you said goodbye before,
I still believe that we could have had so much more.

Step by step,
hand in hand,
I will always be there for you.
through lows and highs,
till the day I die,
I will always be there for you.


Details | Free verse | |

Scars of an Inner Child

You are not the man, you want to be
You said you were my Father, till, I discovered different
Enduring, daily beatings
Bashing the living day lights, out of a woman and a child
Repetitive, bad ass attitude, nasty streak
Mean and aggressive!
Fists, knives and guns, your weapons of chose
Out of control, abusive, devious
Relentless, over – bearing!
Breaking me, piece by piece
Confusing a child, with unhealthy love
Hand fed your bullshit, brain washed
Using me as your human, punching bag
This innocent child’s blood, staining your callas hands
My child’s curiosity, asking you one day
“Why do you hurt me and Mum?”
Your retort: “I am not your blood!”
I didn't understand, back then
Now, as an adult, I clearly understand!
Believe me, when I say
There was never a day that went past
That you didn't remind me of that!
My freedom, restrained
My sanity, tested
Caged, like a wild bird in captivity
Behind bars, looking out
 Here, I am today, free from your grip
Nursing, this inner child’s, bleeding love


Details | I do not know? | |

Woman's Day

Women's Day


wiping away those tears

of the brutal truths of your past

wiping away those tears

your spirit rises up, far beyond your scars

and your strength resides deep within you 

with an unshakeable resolve that shall forever last


...the weakened men whose brute force is so macho and empty 

and that has always been in your face

are now nothing but specks of aging, obsolete rust

flitting past you, for you hold it all together

as you always have 

rising up firm and strong from being shoved into the dust


...you are a mother, a lover, a daughter, a wife, and a worker ... above all a worker you have been

tying the loose ends together time after time

always there 

yet unseen


...a woman you are 

of fibre 

of courage

of being the bedrock on which we trample 

on whose shoulders this world stands

as you continue to work ceaselessly on

with lines on your face

and with raw wounds on your hands

but...

now your time has come

and no longer will you silently bear

the jabs and taunts of men

for now you proudly declare

that a mother am I, a daughter too, a lover and a wife as well

and now the time has come for them to awaken

to the tolling a new bell


...a bell that tolls for you

for you have taken back the pride and dignity that they stripped off you for ages

for now theirs is a lost cause while your battle still defiantly rages

through cities and homes and villages 

and in town after nameless town

for now the bell has tolled

and the time has passed for you

to be ever
again
put down


Details | I do not know? | |

For Anene Booysen 1996 - 2013

Hamba Kahle Anene Booysen! (1996 – 2013)


Dead at 17, brutally raped and left to die,
in the dirt,

 

at a construction site in Bredasdorp.

 

‘horrific’, ‘repulsed’,
‘brutally raped’, ‘shocked’,

 

do these words mean anything,
to anyone,

anymore.

 

Not to Anene Booysen,

 

murdered at 17, brutally raped and left to die,

in the dirt,

 

at a construction site in Bredasdorp.

 

Anene was raped,
savagely mutilated,

 

Her 17 year old body tossed aside,

 

by the hands of men.

 

Men, always men,

 

cowardly, beastly, perverted, twisted men.

 

‘Beastly’, ‘perverted’, ‘twisted’,

 

do these words mean anything,
to anyone,

anymore.

 

Not to Anene Booysen,

 

who now lies cold and dead.

 

How many Anene Booysens will it take,

 

for us,
society,
families,
people,

 

human-beings,

 

and,

 

men, especially men,

 

to excise the ghastly menace,

 

of the heinous capacity that resides,

 

within men,

 

always men,

 

to brutalise, rape, mutilate, and murder.

 

‘Brutalise’, ‘murder’, ‘rape’,

 

do these words mean anything,
to anyone,

anymore.

 

Not to Anene Booysen,

 

murdered at 17, brutally raped and left,

 

to die,

 

in the dirt,

 

at a construction site,

 

in Bredasdorp.

 

 

Anene Booysen
(1996 – 2013)

 

* – Hamba Kahle – “Farewell, Travel Well” in Zulu

 

** – Bredasdorp is a small town near Cape Town, South Africa


Details | Free verse | |

Woman from Congo

I am woman … 
WOMAN
Of Congo, 
Chewed, 
Spat out,
And bestowed with straw basket
To fetch water. 
You set upon us 
Wild dogs, 
Stretching our legs wide,
Ripping out our genitals and dignity
To nurse your children’s 
Craving.

‘fore you design gods;
Ones who create dolts, 
Small-minded folks, 
And feast on minerals – 
Congo was a lady
And I … I am
WOMAN, 
Strong black woman.

I bought some views 
On black market; 
They are rare commodities,
Sat down with glass of nsamba
on the rocks
And seriously contemplate …

It is hard to buy
Black market stuff;
We are set up
To think
East is inferior to west,
Barring them Europeans
Who broke their necks
To dwell in Canaan.

One thing is for sure,
They alleged a better name
And substitute 
The ones we were given;
Those with implications.
Oh, what things we see
When we start looking
From our own eyes.

I am WOMAN …
Woman alone
And taken against my desire,
Ravished by the corporations;
The gods who create your children
I am WOMAN, 
Woman from Congo.


Details | Free verse | |

woman's rant on a hot summer day

just because you see me walking down 'ho boulevard does not mean i'm for sale...
i don't have an advertising sign up inviting you to taste and see
a woman can't walk down the street in broad daylight
dressed in a baggy t-shirt and sweats 
rockin' an afro puff on a hot summer day
without being propositioned
in violation of my rights as a woman to be free from sexual harassment
and I’m mad about it
my “NO” to your obnoxious offer is real talk
and you should know the difference between what’s for sale
and what’s not on the auction block
so g’long
an' lef’ muh tuh walk in peace
makes a woman want to carry a concealed weapon
and go blasting
could never walk the hallways
play in the yard
or even pray
without somebody bothering me
pulling on my clothes
or grabbing at me
for some sick reason
the next one is going to get a surprise
so g’long
an' lef’ muh tuh walk in peace

~in honor of the women who have walked ahead of me...

(c) 2011 PoetryofMotion!
All Rights Reserved


Details | I do not know? | |

They Left so Abruptly

They Left so Abruptly

(for the countless South Africans, of all colours, who dedicated their lives for freedom and democracy)

the valiant ones
countless
many known
many more nameless

the truest sons and singers
husbands and poets
lovers and wives
daughters and farmers
workers and sisters
brothers and friends

they left so abruptly
with quiet pride
steely courage
gentle dignity

they left so abruptly
leaving us our tomorrows
brighter
hopeful
filled with promise

they left so abruptly
so that we may breathe
the breath of liberty
the air of freedom
the warmth of justice

they left so abruptly
leaving with us their parting gift

freedom
inkululeko
swatantrata
liberte
azadi
vhudilangi
libertad

they left so abruptly
yet we remember them all
today
in the days that slipped away
and in the many more that we await

they left so abruptly
yet they remain
hewed into our memories
etched in our consciences
engraved in our hearts
they left so abruptly
and yet they endure
with us
within us
now and forever more


Details | I do not know? | |

I Want to Walk with You

I Want to Walk with You
 
I want to walk with you with our heads held high
Never cowering, never with heads bowed
With our feet on this blessed soil, and our dreams reaching for the sky
 
Dreams of simple joys and of peace and of mirth
For all our fellow travelers on this delightful earth
 
Dreams not of wealth or of positions of high standing or of mighty power
Simple dreams of a walk in the aftermath of a Johannesburg evening rain-shower
 
Dreams of bread and water and dignity and shelter and clothes for all
Dreams where all fellow travelers may together walk this earth proud and tall
 
I want to walk with you, my fellow traveler, with our heads held high
Never pandering to power, never silent in the face of its abuse
Always firm in our convictions that we can all make peace if we only try
 
If we try to stop and think and sometimes not to look the other way
If we practice what our different creeds really teach, we will surely see that day
 
When we all, fellow travelers may walk with our heads held high
Never cowering, never with our heads bowed
With our feet on this blessed soil, and our collective dreams reaching for the sky
 
Call me silly, call me naive, call me hopeless, and if you must, call me weak
But is this not the common good that our different creeds and cultures all seek?
 


Details | Free verse | |

Courtship

When being told you're “perfect”
but that it's not enough
what can you even do
in pursuits of love?

The seemingly endless process of
meeting and greeting
sharing, laughing, loving, caring
even becoming attached to family, pets
all so that it may come to an abrupt
ofttimes one-sided end- 
it wears me down
I'm far too young to feel as drained
I'm far too young to feel as pained
I'm far too young to feel as enslaved and betrayed
by this process of courtship as I do

Those older and wiser counsel: 
Patience, waiting is never easy
The right one will come along
You're a good person with a good heart
and you've got a lot to offer
It's their loss
*sigh*
I already know all of that, 
but it doesn't mean I accept it
It doesn't mean a part of me
cannot fear that the one I held dear
should have been mine to keep,
mine to fight for, mine to live for,
mine to die for
But what can I do?
What can I do?


Details | Rhyme | |

God's Plan for Marriage


There’s a truth that remains since 
the beginning of time.
God created man and woman, 
 with marriage in mind.

From the dust of the ground,
Adam was formed.
From his side came Eve.  A new life was “born!”

God’s design for marriage became 
very evident and clear…
If not for Adam and Eve,
 none of us would be here!

Marriage is a blessing from God.  
A gift from God above.
A man and a woman come together
 as an expression of their love.

Anything different than one man 
and woman is perverted.
This is a lie from our culture that
 is trying to be “inserted.”

God gave us all a natural love 
with a strong ambition.
To come as a husband and wife 
is a God given intention!

Read from the books of Genesis
 thru Revelation…
God’s idea of marriage is
 for any person or nation.

Many can try to change what God
 has already designed.
It’s no wonder why so many have 
“confused” minds.

Let’s come back to God and
 trust him with our life!
The one who set up marriage as; 
“one husband and one wife!”

By Jim Pemberton


Details | I do not know? | |

She



A sweetly-scented, earthy rain-storm,
she came to me,

thunderously raging with raw emotion,
she came to me,

drenched in the essence of truth,
she came to me,

she touched a chord deep inside,
she strummed away all emptiness,

she came to me,

once...

she comes to me,

still...


a gentle presence filling my life,


she comes to me,


still,

a healing spirit soothing all inner strife.





Details | Rhyme | |

God's Definition of Marriage


God designed marriage as the real thing!
Anything less, is what a counterfeit brings!

His concept of one man and woman is very real.
He’s not interested in bowing to “man’s appeal.”

His court of justice rings very loud and clear!
The truth of his word shall NEVER disappear!

You can look in Genesis and it is found!
He created Adam from the dust of the ground!

He designed Eve from one of his ribs!
They were joined together as  both lived!

He didn’t need a constitution to know “their rights.”
He gave them HIS WORD as their guiding light!

Satan has been trying to pervert what God created!
This is a truth.  And need not be debated!

We have cheapened the value of the marriage institution!
And have added needless 
chaos and confusion!

Through the Bible, one husband and wife are taught!
Unless you want to live in Sodom, as did Lot!

Ungodly perversions take many forms and kinds.
And it soon piles up garbage into our minds!

“What God has put together.” 
 “Let no man put asunder.!”
Many ideas of “marriage,” is a total blunder!

One man and one woman is what God ordained in Eden.
It was Adam and Eve.  
Not Adam and Steven!

The choices in life are yours!  And yours alone!
Who is going to be the Lord, of your heart and home?

By Jim Pemberton  


Details | Free verse | |

Days Gone By

    She stands upon the castle tower,
long ebon locks caught by a playful wind.
Green eyes gaze across the court yard,
at the first fingers of dawn touching the horizon.
She espies two small clouds of dust,
one from the east and the other from the west,
growing larger as they draw near the castle.
Even now she can see her two suitors approach.
One ,wearing all black,a void
stealing all the light ,
as a thief might take the rays of the sun.
She smiles ,and the other,
Dressed in the purest silver,
agleam in the suns rays.
The Black Knight will ask for her hand.
 He will stay out with the boys at the pub drinking,
then wenching,beat her,and never treat her as a lady.
The Silver Knight will ask for her hand.
He will hold open doors for her,
bring flowers to her,show kindness,
and treat her like a princess.
Once again she smiles ,
this is no decision.
She will choose her Silver prince,
to be treated as a lady ,as any woman would wish.
She runs to the stairs leading down,her last thoughts
why would any woman not wish to be treated as a lady?
Why would any man mistreat one of God's greatest gifts?


                               Where have the days of chivalry gone.          


Details | Free verse | |

Smooth Convicts

By Angeline Star

Anti-social
behavior of
the push-up 
bra- -
confines.


Details | I do not know? | |

The 3 sided woman

A woman with a vision is hard to deceive.
A woman with a goal is hard to distract.
A woman with a dream is hard to please.


Details | I do not know? | |

Vula Amehlo - Zulu for open your eyes

Vula Amehlo (open your eyes)

"Vula Amehlo"is Zulu for "open your eyes"

Vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
though eyes aren’t needed to behold
the flowing tears of those of us, left out in the cold

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
the time to turn your back is long gone
no time now to pander and no time now to fawn

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
we the people are hungry, angry, and our skin is torn
though we say it loudly, unbowed we are, and not forlorn

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
we may be invisible and tucked away far from you
but we are here, still, waiting for the promise of freedom to come true

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
you see us sometimes, though you avert your gaze
come on now, compatriots, awaken from your complacent daze

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
we are the open wound that festers on your ostentatious display
band-aids won’t do anymore, we are here, and we are here to stay

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
as you roll down your windows and toss us some coins, look in our eyes
we are your slumbering consciences, we are the famished proof of your lies

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
forget us not as you tuck your pretty children in, and turn off the lights
we too are the children whose mothers, fathers fought for all our peoples’ rights

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
don’t think that we are bitter and livid for no reason or cause
we have been waiting and waiting, for days and a decade, without any pause

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
vula amehlo
mothers and fathers
vula amehlo
brown and white and all shades of this rainbow so bright
we repeat what we said, we are not going to melt away into the night
vula amehlo
one and all
our patience is being tested from day to day, year to year
we have listened to your promises and we now demand that you hear
vula amehlo
open your eyes
and see us, and hear us clearly, and hear us today
band-aids won’t do anymore, we are here, and we are here to stay

vula amehlo
open your eyes



Details | Free verse | |

Woman

Being a woman is a gift.
Whether you’re black, white, red or blue.
It doesn’t matter as long as you are you.
Being hurt and punished by the men you love.
Is it their fault you f**ked with no glove?
Beaten, bruised, obeying all his rules.
Why not just refuse; refuse to be his slave, refuse to be his punching bag, refuse to be his last choice.
It’s time to stand up and raise your voice.
Tell him whose boss and why you took it all.
Remember the time he f**ked your best friend
Remember the times he said
“Baby I’ll be there until the end”
Remember the beatings, burns, cuts and bruises;
It’s time to tell him who loses.
Be the woman who can stand on her own two feet.
Be the woman who refuses to be with a man and be beat.
Life is too short to stay locked down
He continued to knock you down 
But its time to get up and get off the ground.
You’re free to be the woman you were meant to be…


Details | Blank verse | |

the people we don't want to know

The People we don’t want to know. 

From pay check to pay check many working class people have two jobs,
 then it all dries up and there is no work and manual labourers are 
called work shy…. I knew a woman with three jobs she was tired coming 
home, yet boiled potatoes and fried fish for her children before falling 
asleep, coughing a lot. She had tuberculosis and sent to a sanatorium,
 and the children sent to foster homes. Her illness caused by unhygienic
 home, people from the social services said. No one asked why a woman 
should hold down three jobs to fed her children and no one said she was 
a “deserving” poor whatever this word means. This inequity will go on till
 we understand poverty is not a choice but a mishap of birth, few escape,
those who do will always carry the dishonour, the mark of Cain, by being 
more hateful of poverty and branding the poor lazy. As the average actor 
who got a role in a film that made him famed, his hate his own class, poor 
himself once, reveals his fear of slipping back to poverty again; he harms
his flesh and blood in an attempt to get rid of his own stench of privation. 
But the Haves can smell an imposter, but they do like money so perhaps 
his daughter will make it to the ball. 


Details | Rhyme | |

Male And Female Conversation

I've noticed this time after time again.
Whenever a man and a woman have a conversation,
the woman never stares at the man's chest while she's conversing with him.


Details | I do not know? | |

For Aung San Suu Kyi

For Aung San Suu Kyi

manacled
you remained unyielding
bruised by their bayonets of power
you remained unyielding
gagged by their coarse brutality
you remained unyielding
today you return
and we salute
your spirit
that remained
and remains
unyielding


Details | Rhyme | |

God's Plan For Marriage


God’s Plan for Marriage… There’s a truth that remains since the beginning of time. God created man and woman. And had one thing in mind. From the dust of the ground, Adam was formed. From his side came Eve. A new life was “born!” God’s design for marriage became very evident and clear… If not for Adam and Eve, none of us would be here! Marriage is a blessing from God. A gift from God above. A man and a woman come together as an expression of their love. Anything different than one man and woman is perverted. This is a lie from our culture that is trying to be “inserted.” God gave us all a natural love with a strong ambition. To come as a husband and wife is a God given intention! Read from the books of Genesis thru Revelation… God’s idea of marriage is for any person or nation. Many can try to change what God has already designed. It’s no wonder why so many have “confused” minds. Let’s come back to God and trust him with our life! The one who set up marriage as; “one husband and one wife!” By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

Soulful Cries

I scream, at the top of my lungs
No sound, comes out
Silent, curdling screams
Is, all I have left, now
I wrestle; I fight, with all, my physical might
While, being forced down 
By the mighty strength, of many men
The pungent smells of dirt, sweat and grime
Embed, in my senses
Their ghastly hot breathes; making me, want to puke!
Their hands, all over me
Constantly grabbing and groping me
Hollering and cheering each other on
Then, someone punches me
Someone, I cannot see
A large man’s hand, covers my nose and mouth
Muffling my soulful cries, terrifying, my insides!

I can’t breathe, now!

Many heavy handed blows, follow
In a blurry haze
I watch, my scarlet red blood splatter
Upon the snow white sheets, that surround
My sacred blood spilled
My salty tears mixed in with sticky men’s semen
My body, a raging torrent of scorching hot lava
Lulling into a translucent, entranced state
Surrendering, to the primal, animalistic frenzy
The men, taking what they want, anyway they want it
Devouring every morsel left ,of my weak and weary body
My body fighting, for its God given right
To live, now!
My life flashes before my eyes
The sounds around me begin to fade
My eyes glaze over, my body goes limp
My body betraying me, when I need her the most!
Silently, I pray for this is not my will, but their own
“Have mercy upon these souls” 
“Please forgive these men, as I do, now
“My love remains with you, heavenly Father”
Blackened tears of jet black mascara
Weave their way down
Through the bloody crevasses, of my black & blued skin
My body used up, a lifeless vessel, totally numb!
My innocence and dignity stripped!
No one, can save me, the worst is done!
Bashed, beaten, worn
I am nothing, no more...


Details | Free verse | |

On Rude 111

Snippets of conversation, barely overheard, 

words not directly related to my own words in reality. 

Always delivered to ear oh so very loudly. 

Listen to these words of rhyme, as eye pen this ode to rude.

Catalougeing all the words of special meanings overheard.

A man and a woman and a man.

All three of them conversing at the same time.

The first man called the woman a expletive.

"YOU little eXpletive" he cried.

She is NOT so little so eye smiled.

"I need a cigarette" said she, and the other man

echoed the first. " Take this one" he offered her the cigarette.

"You eXpletive", was his utterment.

It astounded me, as we were in the puBlic eye.

One thing was certain. They never even noticed me.

Never saw me as a person. They just played out their ruminations.

Just giving me the benifit of their public conversation.

How ugly does it seem to ewe?

She was almost screaming as they left,

"Give to me a lighter too, for my cigarette".

I would NOT conjecture just what these people do.

Away from puBlic eye.

In Private.


Details | Free verse | |

The Outcast-

Long blonde hair
A pageant queen beauty 
On stage she smiles
Yet-
Inside, she's brooding.

Girl in the hallway
Glasses an inch thick
Smart as Einstein
But-
Lacking true spirit.

Young woman there
Hair black as night
Nails used for earrings
Still-
No one would ever know 
she cries, every night.

Little miss popular,
Big breasts, perfect skin
Who gets all the guys
Never letting on that 
She isn't that happy 
And-
She tells them all lies.

Rich little daddy's girl
Drives up in the Benz
No one knows she sits 
Lonely on holidays
With no food and no gifts
Just the maid and some gin.

Labels we see... never
Looking beyond.
We place them on each
We laugh, we torture,
Then.....
we turn the other cheek.

It doesn't really matter
if you are rich or you're poor
The loneliness, it isn't picky
Or discriminate
Because of our decor.

We are all the same inside
Girl afraid, woman trying.

Hearts beating heavily
While our souls
continue crying.

I just wish one day

We all could just 
Stop.
Stop the hurting.

So my advice is simply this:

If you see someone you think,
Looks like an outcast to you
Please remember to give a smile
Because one day that girl.....

{On the stage, in the corner
With the glasses, or the fancy ride
Black nails, heartbreaker or the liar}





Could be you.





Wouldn't you want someone to

See the outcast girl too?





-This was inspired by my teen daughter who at the moment, feels
like the outcast-


Details | Rhyme | |

Someone Asked Me About Marriage

Someone Asked Me About Marriage…

Someone asked me about marriage, as a matter of fact…
I thought; “what kind of questions is that?”

“Let me ask a questions…  If I may?”
“Do you read what the God’s word has to say?”

Marriage is still and will always be one woman and man.
I don’t care how many laws we have in our land!

No matter if many churches and people claim; “civil rights.”
Anything different than a man and woman is NOT right!”

The first chapter of Romans makes it pretty clear…
The days of wickedness have drawn ever near!

God’s wrath revealed against all ungodly living!
Think about the garbage our country is giving!

It speaks of men and women leaving their natural affection.
Burning in lust toward one another
 with an ungodly attention!

For this cause God has given many over to a reprobate mind…
Many get involved with perversions of many kinds!

Professing themselves to be wise, many have become “fools.”
By not obeying God’s word… But their own “set of rules.”

Marriage is something designed many years ago.
It was Adam and Eve in the beginning…  This we know!

My question to you is: “Why not give God a chance?”
His truth remains the same!  Whatever the circumstance!

No court of law can change what God has established!
Everything that’s not of God is simply a lot of “rubbish.”

Jesus is coming back for a bride without “a wrinkle or a spot.”
It’s time we come clean and become
 “blood bought!”

Being the bride of Christ is the most important thing!
He is the bridegroom and eternal love he brings!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | I do not know? | |

Where do we fit...

It seems that woman need to be something...
Us man...well where do we fit in...
By our self...are we  a stock to be looked into...
Like brains...looks...working capital...
How do they...look at us...
After all the love is gone...
You know...the crazy side of hooking up...
Does this have a starting time...
Are the woman under pressure...
Who are we...some trophy hunters dream...
The scarry thing is...what about us left overs...
Where do we fit in...
We're the ones who watch the others...
The ones we wished we were but we're glad we're not...
Don't  you worry we're still in the biggest fishing hole...
Waiting our turn to get caught...
Just like a catch and release...
We have our own brand of bait...
What ever that is...
We don't even know...
But the woman think they do...
Don't you...


Details | Light Poetry | |

'The Woman and The Wall...'

The Woman Stands By The Wall
… knowing No Harm Shall Pass Thru
It is Strong … Made of Stone and Tall
A Constructed, Marvel – True …

The Woman Places By The Wall …
… a Basket of Hopes and Dreams
She knows, No Creepy Creature Can Crawl
Past This Foundation, as Deep as the Seas …

And The Wall Reaches to Destinies Un-Shown
Long Distance, Soaring Sure and Straight
So, the Woman can Lean Upon
and Rest on This Journey So Great

The Woman Stays By The Wall
The Wall Blocks Out Horrible Views
And Screams and Things Too Evil To Call…
… She Never Wants To Go Over You …

The Woman Holds Onto The Wall
Admiring Its Fortitude, Its Texture
And Tho’ Her Hands May Be Small
She Will Attempt to Respectfully Measure

… This Reliable, Wonderful-Wall
Stands Built, for Her Pretty Protection
So, This Battle-Scarred-Wall, Will Not Fall…
… from Her Supporting, Adoring, Affection

For God, Took Away Her Prayer-Shawl                    1 Cor. 11: 5
as She Marched, Under Heavenly-Protocol
and Master-Builder, Chose This One Over Them All
to Be Her Outstanding, Warrior-Wall !

…  The Woman and The Wall …


Details | I do not know? | |

A Man's A Man Fer All Dat

When a man's on his own, he's just dat.
He's dis an he's dat … jus dis an dat …  an dat's dat.
But now let a good woman enter his life
Let a good woman become his sweet wife
Now he's inspired from dis and dat to this and that and more than that.

From seat left up to seat put down
To clothes picked up 'stead of lying around
From paper cups and plastic spoons
To silver and china with roses and moons
Yes, a good woman transforms his dis and dat to this and that and more than that.

She's a smiling light by which he sees
Yesterday's socks still below his knees.
Her delicate nose, bright eyes and charms
Reminds him to fumigate under his arms.
A man is a man fer all dat, but with a good woman life's this and that.

He wipes his feet as he comes in the door.
"Don't track that sawdust - not on MY floor!"
He hangs up his coat on the back of da chair.
Oh! That's right ... that's wrong ... it doesn't go there!
Well, he hangs it up somewhere, just where I forget
Not on the floor, 'cause the floor is all wet
From the mud on the boots which by the door should be set.
I’ll be getting that look again, that's a safe bet!
But instead she brings warmly a cup of hot tea
With smiles and kisses and m-m-m-m-m … biscotti.

I know there's a lot more dat a “THAT" man should do
Lots of rules about tea time and stuff called "foo-foo".
Yes, a man is a man for all that.
With sawdust and leaves on his old woolen hat,
On his own he's content as an ol’ alley cat, scruffy and scraggly as dis an dat.

But with a good woman like I'm blessed to call mine,
His life starts to mellow like aging fine wine.
His mind starts to think and his heart starts to care
For the spirit-filled treasure who's his lady fair.
So he opens her door, he puts down the seat,
He eats with a fork after cutting the meat.
With napkin in lap and armpits like cedar,
He thinks of his life and how much it is sweeter
Than when he was only and lonely and sad
And says, “Aye!  Dis new life ain’t really half bad!”


Details | Free verse | |

How Is That Okay?

whenever a young woman wants to abort an unwanted pregnancy
she get a lot of grief
yet, when young men and woman are deployed to fight
on foreign land and lose their lives
how is that okay?

Is It just a coincidence that just about every time the United States
becomes embroiled in war, a Republican is in the office of president
and how Is It possible for known terrorist groups
like the Aryan Nation, Al-Queda, or the Bloods to purchase 
large quantities of guns without  the ATF being aware of It
how is that okay?

how Is It that the entire world was oblivious to the genocide
occurring in Ruwanda and Sierra Leone
yet the United Nations ran over to Hertzakovia-Slovenia
at the first sign of trouble
how is that okay?

how Is It that the United States was halfway around the world 
in Indonesia within 5 days after the tsunami 
with food, clothing and recovery
yet here on United States soil it took over 10 days to get any 
relief to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina
how is that okay?

where is the social responsibility?
where is the simple humanity?
where is the equality?
It's time for the people to take a stance today
and then maybe one day it will be okay