Who benefits from my belief?
Because the last I checked it wasn't me
I mean I am a black girl
Living In a racist misogynistic world
Because why would I worship a god who allowed my people to suffer
Yet caters to the needs of our oppressors
Allows them to call us s
Why would I believe
Why would I worship
Why would I pray
To a god who ignored my ancestors
Please go ahead
Make me understand
How your god created this world
But allows racism
So tell me how religion benefits a black person
Because to me and many others
It seems like a weapon
To keep us broken
In a world that sees us as subhuman
As 'god' watches us suffer
Whilst having the power
To fix this problem
So I ask again
Who benefits from my belief
The only correct answer
Is those who don't look like me
So why would I subscribe
To a religion
To a god
Who clearly hates me
That creep is a misogynistic Neanderthal
The only one who would date him would be cave woman
Someone who likes being dragged around by her hair
Someone who likes being abused by her men
My cousin Suzanne immediately came to mind
Misogynistic man
and violence are linked.
I really want to make
this species extinct.
She was born in the midnight,
hidden behind a dream curtain,
Unaware of all the odds,
Surrounded by the gloominess.
She was a girl in the land of
Patriarchy.
She was the brightest star in her sky,
She was a bird , who wasn't afraid of
Spreading her wings to fly,
She was stronger than the steel,
She was the voice of the voiceless.
She was a free sprit, a free soul in the misogynistic world.
At the dawn as the last star blinked out,
they tormented her
Trimmed her wings,
Shattered her dreams,
caged her for being the voice,
Snatched her freedom,
"How could you fly ,
How could you breath ,
How could you roam around,
How could you be the voice"....they laughed.
They thought they could make her silent,
But, they have failed,
She was a miracle, she was a warrior,
She was different than the rest,
She was the bravest girl that everyone
Knew would rise up,
The fear, weakness, hopelessness died,
Strength, power, compassion, bravery was born.
I saw her as charming, friendly, gregarious, fun.
My sister saw her as the enemy.
I saw her as humorous, delightful, exciting, a kindred spirit.
My cousin saw her as a threat.
I saw him as boring, tedious, bland, banal.
My sister snapped him up as if he was lemon sherbet.
I saw him as annoying, bothersome, a misogynistic, evil bully.
My mother agreed, but my sister and cousin voted for him.
Who are the people behind the glass?
Men and women talking smack;
Running down our way of life;
Creating dissent and causing strife;
They fill the airways with false facts;
Twisting news and spinning notions;
Seeking to find a magic potion;
To undue the results of an election;
Blinded by hate and a leftist agenda;
They’ve fulfilled their own accusations;
Unstable liars, hate filled bigots, detached from reality,
Racist, homophobic, misogynistic, and abusive;
Abuse of power is on every hour;
Un named sources, phony documents, bogus timelines;
The longing in their eyes seen early until late;
fantasizing for their new Watergate.
There is a man named Mr. Purt
Money and power are his turf.
He rules the land with a tangerine fist
Misogynistic deeds always tops his list
He takes what he wants, no questions are asked.
Women are no exceptions in his take-over tasks
Greasy, slime-ball, a Neanderthal if you will.
Algae of the earth, pond scum, seeking chauvinistic thrills.
He encompasses himself with a cluster of men who think the same.
Narcissistic beastly creatures, I do proclaim!
Mr Purt is the leader of these evil clones
overcompensating with their wallets while he is perched on his throne.
Receding hair line over indulgent brutes
siting in the country club in their Armani suits.
Laughing and saying "All women are sluts and whores to a degree".
Puffing on cigars and sipping on their Brandy.
So, ladies, if you happen to see Mr. Purt and his entourage walk your way
RUN! RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN!
HIDE YOURSELF FROM THE ORANGE HAND!
complex web of beats
when we deviate
from the accepted
norms conventions
we are alienated exiled
or even executed
she is eloquent
we kill our visionaries
misogynistic zombies
she is spread on the
wavy green grass pondering
our skin touching
biased weird perspective
perception of the ephemeral
intangible moment of love
boom bap with a bouncy twist
conceptual rhythms culminating in
abstract cerebral eruptions
aug 9 2016
tue 5,42 am
Now that I am eighteen years old I have learned two things. Number one, I will not let words define me, I define myself. Number two, I will never raise my future children under these misogynistic terms. If I have a girl who likes to wear boy clothing I will let her become her own person. If I have a boy who is sentimental I will never tell him the term that since he is a boy he isn't allowed to cry.
I may have been raised to believe that women are only meant to stay in a kitchen but I refuse to believe it. Women are meant to do wonders, women are meant to fight. Whether it be on frontier borders of war, or battling politicians. But women are not meant for kitchens and childbirth, I refuse to believe it.
Oh Donald dear, how did you get so far
hooked your line to some passing star?
The words you speak seem all repeats
not a way to truly make the change indiscreet
only misogynistic parody and unfounded repertoire.
How could a man be so cruel, i was thinking at deep
How could one make her weep , i was thinking at deep
she was a spinster,,and it was all she made for her
The abiogenesis of emotions never grew as she met a sycophant
It was all abnegated as she was a shrew,
While he was a taciture with a misogynistic heart
She was all fastidious but he always had a belief
Nothing is much balefulI unless we are not eccentric
Unless we are ascetic holding the parasol
It is only then all sycophants would die
It is only then when spinsters would have their men
When there is no intestatement of a soul
it’s said by women to women
that the most offensive word
(in the english language)
they can be called is
the C word---
this word cannot be uttered by men around women,
it’s said by women to men,
it’s said by men to men
when conversing about the women who told them
amidst other women or
alone
without other women present.
all words stumble round its usage like
a toddler
meandering across a
fresh patch of ice in slippers made of
butter.
as cyanide in your favorite drink or
perhaps something of a barbed wire jockstrap
you know better than to tread that water,
best to swim instead of sink---
but men will call each other this word
like its nobody’s business
especially in england
and it’s laughable
how quickly its forgotten that women still
frequent
these areas said to be inhabited only by those with
penises---
it is still a word isn’t it?
one of many,
whose disgustingness has brought violence with them
for hundreds if not
thousands of years.
so will this word be picked up by women who
feel its usage to be violent, misogynistic & vile,
only then subsequently appropriating it for their own
giving it new meaning?
Hell Yeah-Hip Hop rose up bustin the scene in 85’
Hell Yeah-All fun clear rhymes and rap attacks no stabbin backs
Hell Yeah-But then things changed got re-arranged with gangsta rap
Hell Yeah-Rhymes misogynistic but still linguistic with twisted lines
Hell Yeah-Things took a deadly turn in 96’
Hell Yeah-Pac passed leavin hip hop in disarray
Hell Yeah-Big Poppa died his Mama cries til’ this day
Hell Yeah-Jay-Z came up changin hip hop eva since
Hell Yeah-Hip hop more pop but still a drop of gangsta rap
Hell Yeah-Where will she go with sweeter flows nobody knows
new misogynistic hatred
springs forth from the altar
worship my deity
breathe the chemical imbalance
and choke on my godhead
you, who are meager
you, who are my servants
you emaciated addicts
Watching old black & white movies
On a widescreen, HD-TV,
Mocks the classic style that we once loved.
Yet we are tolerant as we scowl at the visage;
As though the original film is what's wrong with the world;
That by viewing our faults, we might blame the medium.
But despite our technological revolution,
The film remains intact,
Raw and grained,
With its heroism and prideful acts,
Its dainty dames and strapping lads;
Misogynistic beauty in greyscale
Ruined by modern pretence; by the want of colour.
We once lived without photography;
Before camera obscura and daguerreotype.
Back when moments were only lived,
And never truly captured.
Never imprisoned in silver and ink,
To be hung on lavish walls
Only to be ignored.
Or locked in sleeves,
Trapped and unending in their poses.
Back before Kodak took over the world.
A timeless face needs no modernisation.
A classic needs no revival.
A love once lost should be left alone
Buried in the dirt and mourned appropriately.
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