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Literature Text
-check her out, she's a nine for sure
-no, no, no, she's a seven at best
-and that chick next to her is a four at best
we live in a society that values above all
something as simple as what you’re born with
a pleasant face and
a body shaped by years of self-loathing
and body parts cut out of glossy magazines
self-loathing taught to us
to hate what we see in the mirror
by the same system that taught them
to break women down to their looks
and rate those looks
just because you see beauty
does not mean that beauty lies within
it is worth far more to be resilient
not because you are not beautiful
but because you need to know
you are worth more than a rating they give you
because you are you
and that's beautiful
-no, no, no, she's a seven at best
-and that chick next to her is a four at best
we live in a society that values above all
something as simple as what you’re born with
a pleasant face and
a body shaped by years of self-loathing
and body parts cut out of glossy magazines
self-loathing taught to us
to hate what we see in the mirror
by the same system that taught them
to break women down to their looks
and rate those looks
just because you see beauty
does not mean that beauty lies within
it is worth far more to be resilient
not because you are not beautiful
but because you need to know
you are worth more than a rating they give you
because you are you
and that's beautiful
Literature
offerings from the day
a gift: despair & sunlight
loving me wrong
climax compels a risk
be it love, an ache,
teeth transforming,
the extinct alone
the isle path hatches into
toying labyrinth into
electric current into
hedgerow growing roses
finally still
I am wrong (a gift)
repentance tastes like shame to the tangled
a little magic outspread
cry doubt on a disgusting moon
my body holds a tempest
my mouth holds a century
Literature
Secrets
Smiles are not meant for everyone. They weren't meant to be displayed for everyone else to see. Only for those who are special enough to find a way to see that smile. If a smile were an ordinary thing for anyone to see on any person in the world, then wouldn't that mean that every one of us would constantly be smiling? But we're not. Where's the fun in that? The light airy feeling of being able to get someone to crack a smile on a usually solemn face.
A smile is like a secret between friends.
Literature
Marigolds are Edible
Marigolds are edible. Good in salads, too. You taught me that. I didn’t think you were the kind of person to know that, but you did. Then again, I didn’t think you were much of a salad person, either, but you make the best salads. Not just tasty, but pleasing to the eye as well. Maybe it’s because of the marigolds.
I miss your salad. I miss the orange stains on the cutting board. I miss picking up little pieces of marigold leaves off the kitchen floor. I miss the sight of you walking in with a fistful of blossoms.
I try not to think about the fact that I may never eat marigolds with you again. Sometimes, though, I can̵
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100 theme challenge
40- rates
No more women against women breaking down, from now on we build up other women. That goes for men too.
We are more than the sum of our parts.
Love you all
40- rates
No more women against women breaking down, from now on we build up other women. That goes for men too.
We are more than the sum of our parts.
Love you all
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Comments10
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There's this sports bar near my house where all the waitresses are showing 50% of their breasts in their uniforms. I absolutely hate going there, because the mere concept disgusts me. As a man, I'm supposed to go "hur hur, boobies" and ogle my waitress like a pole dancer? On that note, it also infuriates me that male sports fans are stereotyped as only caring about female athletes for their bodies. Sadly, I understand WHY the stereotype exists, but places like the sports bar I mentioned only serve to make it look like all male sports fans don't have much of a thought process towards women beyond "hur hur, boobies".
Sorry for that little soapbox session. It's just what came to my mind upon reading your poem.
Sorry for that little soapbox session. It's just what came to my mind upon reading your poem.