rapeculture

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Rape Culture I was raped. He took it all away. And what could Athena do? I do not blame her. She gave me power.
He Held My Hand By:Bella White He held my hand today! For no particular reason But, he didn’t hold it in a nice fashion.  
All I want is to be free. free of the demons that haunt my nights Laughing in glee as my eyes droop down. His face fades into place like the cheshire cat.
I’m not okay. I’m sitting on the bathroom tiles, Crying, Screaming, Hurting. The blade glides merrily across my arm, Slice
Dear Mr. John, I see you in the corner a stalking predator that looks more like a prey. You clutch your fists to refrain what your hands wish to say. Your eyes entangled with how my curvy hips seem to sway.
America, the brave? More like America the Slave. Founded on the oppression Of millions, and millions. Our ideals of freedom are only for those
Ofcourse America is in good shape... great shape even. I saw him in a hoodie taking a jog one day..he was 6 ft, dark male... um looking suspicious though, so I made
Why cant you just teach me teach me how to walk the city streets without wondering if i will make it home teach me that i can wear that black leather skirt with that red V-neck with out
He claims to commit crimes, of only the teenage kind. "It was just lust", he wanted to feel up her bust.   How innocent, how mature, he wanted to take his supposed date behind a dumpster.
Is to be stared at             Leered at                         Eyebrows waggled at                                     Cat-called                                                 Belittled
whistle my entire existence is contingent upon
I have a few things left that I need to let go. The scar tissue tells the story that I haven't told. I didn't know it was human trafficking. Picked us up dropped us off, motivated us to sell their magazine's.
The culture believes if sh
Changes don’t happen overnight;  but if they did, think of it this way: dusk is the beginning of the bad stuff. The darkness sets in slowly, and then all at once,
There was a conversation that never happened Not even a deleted scene More like a storyboard Lost An idea cut from the first draft    And you are costarring
This is a rape poem but i am male impossible you say fuck you i trusted this man he was my friend a few years older we played hide and seek with the rest of our friends
A scarlet dress for blood spilt ripped blouse for flesh marred. Ladders in the stockings, a rung for every blow landed.   Scuffed shoes from hard kicks bruise gorged eyes permanently closed  
NO she said does no mean yes? we know you know better than that you did what you did because you wanted to it wasn't her fault you can't blame the way she dressed the way she talked 
Long pale faces split with wicked grins, Dark sunken spaces where the eyes should have been. Strong careless hands stealing life from beneath tattered cotton,
Is there anything but The harsh reality of today's world To look forward to? Children dream of The freedom of adulthood While adults yearn for The ignorant bliss Of childhood.  
They whistle and howl Am I just a piece of meat? Faster, wolves devour   Note to Reader: I am a woman. I expect to able to walk down the street and not fear for my safety. I am a woman.
John Dominique once said, “You cannot kill truth. You cannot kill justice.
There were lights, and music, and drinks, and people were swaying and laughing. I'm sure it was late and  the drinks made your insides feel warm and you did not expect anything more than a party.
  I saw this image of this young girl who was laying on the floor, I had to look closer and I saw she didn't have no clothes on, I judged at first I can admit, like what the hell is this?
You only see them laugh But in silence they pray, Please god, Don't let me be the girl, That this happens to today, You'll joke about her pain, Hashtag Jadapose, Pretend it's a game,
Because when I was a small girl, my daddy,
When I was in third grade, My dad got me confused with my brother and called me “son,”
I still feel their hands when I sleep Often times I wake with a leap My breath constricted in a silent plea While my hands scramble for my lover to hold me   I hear too many jokes about someone being raped
Man Found Guilty of Drugging a
A bone shivering day in February, I stay at a friend's house with a few of my friends.  My friend's parents happen to have a friend over.  He's nice enough, and he drinks for hours on end. 
You know what makes me tick? Rape culture in society. Women (and men) are forced to live in anxiety and it makes me sick.   I hate living in a world where the first question 
I hear that boys will be boys that we condone rape that our father figures allow it that we objectify our women we turn a blind eye because we think its cool
Stop! No means no. "But she changed her mind." "She was asking for it."
My response to the group piece "Rape Poem to End All Rape Poems" by Rutgers University   At the College Slam Poetry Competition there was a group piece titled: “A Rape Poem to End All Rape Poems”
When I was five years old,I heard that boys stood when they peed.Angry and jealous,I dragged my princess panties down to my ankles,Held my skirt above my belly button,
Admonished for daydreaming
You make me ill, With your kind words And not so secret stares.   I feel your gaze on my body. It touches my face, my arms, and my chest. We both know you aren’t hunting for my heart.  
a rush comes with anger with the aftertaste of Shame naive to the notion     that it could happen to me
Shatter worthy like a glass of milkCrack into each part of usefulPin little bits of memory into the toughest parts of that meat.Spread dignityMalleable melted butterWon’t fight youJust fulfilling duty
I am a real piece of work And that much about me will never change I’ll change the world with words The same way you changed me You made me a worrier Excuse me
  Dreaming is what got me here. I used to dream that all the power would be in my hands, but here I am pressed against the ceiling this cement ceiling.  You fed me words  that made me hunger,
The patriarchy Self-congratulatory of its own bias. The working women Polishing her glass ceiling weeps for potential. The conservatives attack her choice as murder But her life counts too.
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