I wore pants to church

I remember the days
when I had to wear a skirt to pray
those jumpers my dismay
but I wore them to school anyway.
I remember the days
confused by what I saw
not even four foot tall
not sold on what I was taught
one day I just woke up
saw it for what it was
and said I’d had enough.
I remember the day
I wore pants to pray
the nuns stopped me in my tracks
but I never once looked back
told them to call my parents
my mother on their side-the merits
of properly dressed females
but my father stood by my details
told him of my discomfort
that I refused injustice
that I would pray in pants
and he told them again my stance.
I remember the days
that I knelt down to pray
God on my shoulder always leading the way.
I remember the days-
Catholic memories
of standing up to nuns
and living comfortably.
I remember the days
only a little girl at play
when I changed the system
never needing permission
just God’s little vixen.

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What’s my line?

Black and white
so elegant
the women from
the 50s set
a narrative we soon
forget.
Erase the ones
who got ahead
sell a victims tale
instead.
Create a system
that has fed
on the empowered
females success.
Erase them from
the narrative
for we must sell
the damsels bit.
Turn the split tales
into kids
and never speak of
how we lived
that life’s oppression
that’s all there is.

Victimhood

I don’t need your victimhood
I don’t need your help
I have waged my own way
while you played with yourself.
Parade about equality
when all you want is
everything;
the power, the man, the wedding ring-
life that’s fair to femininity-
while you destroy
the enemy?
I don’t need your victims tale
I don’t need your progress
I have waged a war in kind
to end the world you promised
protest all you want
but never do define
you are exactly
the very stereotypes
you mime.
Broken little girls
all you do is whine-
imagine all the trauma,
nightmares are your bribe,
scream until you’re crying
then say it’s all their fault
but never actually fight for change
just hold another woman’s march.

MGTOW

Here we are now
and there they go
the women now pay
for what they sowed
reaping loneliness
and dying alone.
Crying into pillows
wondering
where’d the men go
got your “empowerment”
but still you go to bed solo.
What’d you expect to happen
while you blasted all intentions?
Turned nice guys into rapist
and romance to assault
but still you want the wedding gown
yes you want it all.
Yet, the abused often wake up
and our boys they’ve had enough
what’s left for you to sift through
when the men have called your bluff?

I’ve known women who rape

I’ve known women
that rape
take what isn’t theirs
but they are safe.
I’ve known women
that rape
grab without consent
they only take.
I’ve known women
that rape
getting what they want
through hate
using slurs like
faggot
to negate
the very no
said to nullify the game.
I’ve known women
that rape
persist until the subject
is ashamed
gives up his cock to save
his manhood
or any other reason
you’ll say it won’t matter
just the same.
I’ve known women
that rape
tear down men
that they rape
then tell them that
it’s okay
every guy always
wants it anyway.

I see the light!

Have you heard about this?
The woke misogynist
apparently a man just presenting
as a feminist.
Wears a pussy hat
while marching with the chicks
just a wolf in sheep’s clothing
not a product of the rhetoric.
Has read more feminist literature
than a pioneer riot girl,
than an academic scholar,
than the writer and the author-
understands the mission statement
can repeat it-
no hesitation.
Basically the poster child
of the movement
in denial-
no more blood-too infantile
this should show the truth
through guile
woken up, but still on fire-
female feminist: the ‘woke’ pariah-
akin to ‘woke’ misogynist,
where do you think they learnt that rhetoric?

Educate me

Tell me what a female is;
a compilation of unhinged,
a figure made of porcelain-
with
colored vary tones of skin,
a body dressed in red ribbons,
a creature of no consequence.

Tell me what a female is-
I’ve been dying to be let in
to the secrets of my slit-
unknowing is like oxygen!
My lungs are desperate
to breathe again.

Tell me what a female is!
I’ve lived decades so ignorant,
as to my own narrative-
caught up in the experiences.
Guess that’s wrong due to your existence
being a woman is just some lipstick?

Upon second thought,
I think it’s just you
how ’bout
define yourself
not my poon.

Dysmorphia

You know
once
I thought I was a boy:
too big, too tall, not feminine enough.

Looking like my brother
not a single sign of mother.
I’m a little girl but confused about my cover
I have the body-but maybe I don’t?
I think I’ll bleed-but maybe I won’t?

I’m a little girl
my body barely grown
can you fucking tell me;
what story do I own?
What the fuck is female
when dysmorphia is home?
What the fuck is my tale
when anxiety has grown?

You tell me what is female
tell me what to do
if it’s not about my vagina
surely it’s my everyday pursuits?

Yet, I don’t know my face
can’t visualize my body
my mind a mental wreck
plagued by symptoms-mind is foggy.

You know,
I use to think
I was a boy
a girl it seemed to me was void
of everything my body meant;
too big, too tall, too masculine,
but then you see
I found the truth within-
genders just the outside skin-present the way that feels the best
it’s biology that dictates sex.
Tell me what it is to be a female;
lipstick, nice hair, and seashells?

Nature and nurture
the real deal
a concept that saved my life-
so surreal,
despite the lies that have been told-
just females,
my body, my own, so unreal

I am a female.
A mix of masculine feminine freedom
owner of a cunt and reason.
Dsymorphia undone
through treatment.

Female

Tell me what it means to be a female;
sunsets, hair nets, and twiddle.
Living on the silk and needle
telling of the nights most lethal.
Tell me how it feels to be a female;
remind me what it’s not to live with heels on-
that it’s not the tits or
even
the blood,
nor is it about the vision of the yum-yum.
Tell me what it’s like to be a female
who defines the truth between a split-tail?
All these lipsticks lies
and rouge wails-
this their alibi-
the world’s scared, but
still they will define what’s fair
all along she’s theirs-but who cares?
Tell me what it means to be a female;
cotton candy limes and details,
female tears are lies and evils,
they define our lives,
but we will
defend their rights
until we fail.

A day without a womyn

You wanna know how to plan a boycott?

You just boycott.

Don’t shop.

Call off work.

Take the shot. If you get fired you’ll do so happily-at least that’s how it used to be.

No one’s how they use to be
we don’t know the price of free-
privileged, ignorant, children of fiends.

This world is made up of steroid sheep
hiding under wolves clothing,
scared into silence, into yells-
screaming until their voices have failed.

You clearly don’t know how to boycott.

All these words without forethought.

Where’s the impact of this protest?

Call off work, or just support it. Don’t skip class or do, the choice is up to you.

Don’t actually boycott stores or ask that they close their doors-they have bills and dreams of course.

Who the fuck thought this was brilliant?

Oh yeah a killer convict!
Who lied to the government
is leading the Womyn’s movement
a day with no real truth, eh?

You wanna know how to boycott?

You actually have to boycott, no money, no work, no big talk.

Just actions and prices and consequences-if you stand together with one single message
but none of these females are integrating
bitch eat bitch
just constant hating.

You think that women stand together?
Come on ladies you know a lot better-always competing with one another
this forced unity
just bullshit uncovered.

You wanna know how to boycott?
Don’t follow ignorance and forced thought.
Don’t splinter out the center
for this big endeavour
you must come together.
Don’t forget the focus
if you truly own this you’ll bleed just to sow it
liberty devoted
justice frees the soul if
you actually work towards it.