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Best Poems Written by Jacquie Davis

Below are the all-time best Jacquie Davis poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Jacquie Davis Poem

Feminism, They Tell Me

They tell me that I must avoid feminism.
They tell me that feminism makes me hate men.
They tell me as a feminist no man will like.
They tell me all about misandry and not about
misogyny and after I hear them talk I am all for
Misanthropy. They tell me being manly is not ok,
They tell me short skirts are slutty and long skirts
Are prude and I. Am just. A sum of my parts.

They tell me not to walk alone at night
Or I might turn a man on.
Not to be to giving or might as well go along.
They tell me to clutch my keys for when
Bad men arrive
They tell me: “Hey girl, why not smile?”
And ask me what´s the hurry.
They tell me they are a nice guy, don't worry
I am in no rush. Let's just be friends, I have nothing
in demand. They tell me, with the same heart in their mind,
That I lead them on, and ask me why I don´t love them?
But I did, they were my friend.

They tell me catcalling is a compliment but call me
Arrogant if I thank. And if I walk by in silence they
Call me ****, they call me skank. They tell me those
rowdy guys in daylight light are just a bit drunk and
nothing more. And the way that they groped me more,
just let it go and leave before they get more.

They tell me how it is my fault on the day that I get raped.
Boys will be boys, I can not expect them to behave.
How silly of me, to think them human.
They tell me no arrests are made, and before the day after, They,
They tell me to get over it, and call me psycho when I flinch.
I think some have half the mind to rape me again.
“Why don't I trust them?¨” is all they have to ask?
But look at what you thought me,
You taught me not to trust.

That was not feminism, feminism was not my class.
It taught me better, that my voice will give me trust.
That I am not alone and you have not weakened me.
That boys are not boys and better than we make them to be.
That my body is my body and I should not fear the
Streets at day and night like I do now.
And every lurking danger,
is not the sum of my faults.

Details | Jacquie Davis Poem

Music

We don´t listen to the same blues, you and I.
You don´t hear the bass or the drum or the sounds
That tell you a bit about me. 
Instead you cross the street,
Wearely and willingly, speeding up.

I drink my beer in the same bar I drink it in on Saturday.
But you are there and looks flutter in despair across the counter.
Don´t be afraid, I won´t get any closer. 
I know I have a big mouth in a tiny package and I don´t know
when to shut it, when I am on, what they dare call a tantrum.
I shut it today.

Do you think I come here to break your heart?
That my bisexual powers will grind you?
That my feminism and my activism spread like wildfire to
Your soft dangerous soul that needs protecting?
Are you thinking so low of me or yourself?

We don´t listen to the same metal at all, you and I.
To you I am a dangerous predator.
Only perhaps pathetic because of my wheelchair.
If not the lure for our innocent souls.

Yes that is right. 
The wheels on the floor are our lifeline to hell.
And when I´m licking and you´re moaning,
I´m sucking you right in. 
Those fingers in your cunt are there to carry you off.
Ooops no but really I meant get you off.

It does not matter the relationship I am in,
the way I look, behave, or see. See the world in all
his uniqueness. I chose the labels that I feel fit me.
The ones that tells me a bit about who I am. 
My normal, in a world where everybody think they are
normal but no one really is, they are just part of a
larger engine and I… I reject every opinion of me
that does not suit me. 

In the end we all want the same. We want the same
to be that everyone is allowed to be their own unique
different size. We all just want to be normally allowed to be different
like eveyrone else. That is still too much to ask?

So they say nay, always nay. 
When with a girl, they call me gay.
I´m bi.
When with the boy, I am suddenly hetero.
No still bi.
I´m not someone who can´t chose,
needs a good dick, is untrustworthy
and can never be monogamous.
I have explained enough.
All I did was sitting here listening to the music,
While the God you trust,
had you made some stuff up
To demean me.
Am I really the problem?

The reason why we need a pride parade to be
proud that we got through another year of judgmental
things we deal with. 
The reason why the transgender women murdered
this year is probably already close to a 3 digit number.

Is God the problem or am I?
Cause girl, I was just listening to some music.
Can I just sit here and listen to some music.

Details | Jacquie Davis Poem

I Used To Think Racism Was Normal Pt 2

*For rest see pt1*

Like how we teach the next generation how to treat women
And how we teach them how to act towards neighbours
Or if we dare to say to sons that others are not for raping
And people might have the right to their own bodies
But theres so much we still are not saying

So I believed in racism
But not in people being racist
And i knew of misogyny
But knew no womanhaters
I believed in their litanies
The gods of themselves they are making
Those incredulous men
Who think we are still for the taking

And i believed in mental health
But not without the stigma
I believed the words you say
Those bleeding scratches of nothing
I thought that the way
Was believing what they are saying
But I guess there is no denying
That people are bias and I am still people

Today I think that I am still growing
I am not where I was and not yet where I am going
In between in the now I live my life
I use silence as my tool
I use my words as knives

And today I believe that what we teach seem to matter
Trees grow from the roots on up
Houses lean on their foundation
Mountains fall withour their base
And now I see words and their intent are the true creation

Details | Jacquie Davis Poem

Why I Stayed

You said every word you ever said to me
And I swallowed them out of curtesy.
But I can no longer take the pain,
My weight has gained,
under your blame.
And you said that I destroyed you,
So now I wonder why YOU stayed?

The abuse of you was always silent,
But not to me and not at the end.
It was only mildly destructive,
They say when they huff
What a good man you are
And take you in with ceremonnial love.
So now I wonder why THEY stayed?

After words rained, beating now came
On the whole and on the daily, But without pain.
I can no longer feel anything,
I smile and nod to nothing,
Who am I but the little miss thing
You said I should be because no one loved me for me.
So now I wonder why I stayed?

Degradation has his upside, you will see
Is somewhere hidden in the words he spoke to me.
Your worth is only to save
That soul of mine and behave
In a matter that does not disgrace
And oh my god you shall obey and obey and obey!
So now you wonder why I stayed?

It was not always this way.
It was not perfect but it was us.
And all those little things he said
Were hidden in slight disgust.
Not like you think it will be.
From zero to beating your days.
It was all inside that what was said
And little miniscule ways.

You start to want to please him a bit,
Change a thing here and there.
Cause I am already fragile you see,
He know I break without care.
Everything has another light,
He promises to love and take away abuse
Then he turns around you
And leaves you broken and bruised.

And my god did I think I deserve, I deserve it all.
Every broken heart I had, everytime I fell.
I fought him but only did so with tenderness,
He thought I was a horse to break, and not one to caress.
I changed into another me and hated that people liked this.
So there must be something wrong with who I was, if she is not missed.

You see,
You fear turning back
Into your old me,
You fear disappointing,
People resenting you
For wanting to be free.
You fear not loving again,
The way you loved him,
And you fear he will come again
And take you, brick by brick.

I was lucky that I escaped,
When I did, when there was time.
But there were the onces
Who did not make it out on time.

Who sings on the graves of those sisters of mine?
Who mourn on the graves of those sisters that died?
Who forgave on the graves of those sisters that tried?

Was it only me,
Who understand why they stayed?

Details | Jacquie Davis Poem

No, Im Not Black

No.
I am not black.
My skin is a comfortable white
And in the sun it settles into a burning red.
No.
I am not black.

No.
I am not black.
Your backwards treatment got me forward,
White privilege has my back.
No.
I am not black.

No, I am surely not black
And I have never been hit by the cops
Or shot dead for being just that.
Just a color to them. Just black.

No, I am not black
And when I say Black Lives matter
I know this is not about me or the worthyness
of MY life. It was never in question.
I´m not black.

Damn, yeah I am not black is
All about labels and color that does not go skindeep.
But when you say that you do not see colour, you inherently miss
The point of a world that sees nothing but and needs to be resolved.
Us making them black,
Threating them as black,
Giving their worth in black,
Their name in black,
Their toes a tag….

For us to say that all lives matter,
Other lives than our white lives should start to matter.
It´s not about us now, your fingers in your ears matter,
No I am not black. Maybe you are not too.
But we can listen and see
That our lack of inclusion,
in three words,
is not seclusion,
At all.
Just someone else guiding the way this time.

No I am not black.
Listen to someone who is.

Details | Jacquie Davis Poem

Grab It Not Pt1

No, ´Grab me by the pussy is not a joke,
It is not locker room talk, no Alpha male stuff,
I was only 6 years old.
Let it sink in.
6 years. Old. 
Or young.
When a male Alpha´ed his less than whatever
is the last Greek letter in that Alphabet behaviour
On my itty bitty self.
My crime for being female.
My punishment for being a child.

You don´t say it´s toxic masculinity
When you dare open your mouth and blame me
For being raped when I was nothing more than a baby,
Not an adult in any
Sense of the word.
Or make excuses for their behaviour.
Tell me men do not know better.
The fact that you think you need to make excuses, tells me,
Men know better but they just don´t care.

Or when I am again sexually assaulted and
A bit after that again raped and
Abused and beaten by different men.
Could you not hoover over these predators and say:
“This is bullshit. No man should behave this way.
And no man held to normal standards of humanity does.”
Instead you say: 
“How could you let it happen it to you again?
How could you let yourself get into harms way?”
As if I had a choice in the matter,
As if 50% of the world is not basically populated with men,
And you all are kinda hard to avoid
Or ignore
Or open about the fact whether you are a rapist or not.
And when I assume you are not, I am too trustworthy.
And when I assume you are, I am not trustworthy enough.

I can´t win.
I am the sum of my parts and nothing,
No nothing
More.
I am a pussy to grab,
A boob to lick,
A back to throw against the wall,
A head to smash against the pavement.

And when one of my assailants
Suddenly becomes a neighbour
You ask me why I smile when I see him in the hallway,
You ask why I just didn´t move
House
As if I could move.
10 years after he threw me on the ground
And I still could not move.
How symbolic.

Details | Jacquie Davis Poem

Everything Nothing

You wonder
If this state of being
Has brought me
All these sudden gains.

You wonder if my
Battle is pretend
And my willingness
To fight is really in vain.
That I’m vain.

A little miss MunchHausen
With her soaplike
Drama hand
Stuck to her forehead
Lying in bed
With everyone
Catering to her
Needs
Saying:
“Are you okay, miss Scarlett?”
Type of
Vain.

This sickness has cost me almost everything.
This sickness is costing me almost everything.
This state of being is costing me everything.
And your words are empty and nothing.

But they hurt.
And they burn.
And they try to cross
Bridges to burn them too.
They slice,
And they scar.
They are forming
Letters
On my forearm.
They break
And not bend
They take the pieces
And throw them away
So they can not mend.
They drown
Lungs filled with water
They strip me titles
Lover, woman,
Writer, friend,
Sister, daughter.
They suffocate
And they cut open
Take my heart
Thrown on the floor
And leave it to the …
Vultures.

Maybe you are vultures.
Waiting for me to break and die
And pick on my bones.
“See, I told you so.”

Or would you believe me then?
That this is not a game?
I want my titles, and not forget
Who it is that I am,
And would you believe me then,
If I die?

Your words are empty. They mean nothing.
But I lie here alone and I lost everything.
I wanted to be something more and I lost everything.
I want to feel sands between my toes and I lost everything.
I just want to walk, and stand, and laugh,
And talk and do everything. I lost everything.
But not your words. Your empty words.
They have come and gone and they mean nothing.
I sometimes kinda wish that you meant nothing
Too. But it is okay that you do.

Even if it hurts,
And you do.
Maybe I did not lose my ability to feel pain.
Maybe that is my…
Not…
Everything.

Details | Jacquie Davis Poem

How To

If you told us how to wear
Our smile, our dress, our fear,
Our stories or our hair
If you blamed us for your fists
Or if you blames us for your stare
You have overstayed your welcome