This is...

This is the me...

who has lived a lifetime
danced on air
given at the drop of a dime
stood all that she could bear
dreamed of different worlds
always one to care
like an oysters pearl
obscure and rare
eyes speak of pain
despite the bright glare
who enjoys the rain
who can take a dare
the childlike me
the innocent me
the inner me
the me that hides in shadows
who fades to black
whenever things get shallow
and her spirit lacks
his guidance
his touch
his hand
to guide her back
to the world she wants to leave
his wishes
his dreams
his destiny planned
this is the me...
the me that Jesus would love,
on any given day...from heaven above
the me...he created, for you.

In Honor of SAAM...

Written on Friday, April 11, 2008 in honor of Sexual Assault Awareness Month (SAAM), a cause about which my best new friend Xavier Pierre (Zay) is quite passionately active and vocal. He has inspired so many of those I know and love to share their voice on this issue that I wanted to let my voice be heard as well. Little do we know what we are truly starting when we start anything at all...nice going Zay!

ENTITLED?

From where does it come?
That sense of being entitled to me you possess.
I am not yours.
I am mine.
I belong to me.

With total authority you enter me.
Your lack of consideration for what’s good for me never ceases to astound.
It’s all about you.
It’s not about me.
It’s your world.

Without permission you overwhelm.
You take all you want though none of what you take is yours.
I am here, but not.
I wish me away.
I am here.

Suddenly you come; then go.
Leaving me to try to separate myself from what you leave behind.
In your wake -- a shell.
In the darkness -- devastation.
Inside -- nothing.

Forever has lasted so long.
Surprised to discover forever is not the same as always; forever has finally ended.
Always is my new beginning.
Always has restored me.
Always I will be.

I am not yours.
I am mine.
I belong to me.

© Sharon J. All Rights Reserved 2008

Monsters

The sun is going down now
And I'm starting to be afraid
It always comes at night
Even when I've obeyed

There's nowhere for me to turn
It says I can't tell anyone
I feel so all alone
There's nowhere for me to run

I don't want to go to school
I don't want to play with friends
Mom is so impatient with me
Why can't she make this end

The monster is so ugly
So big, so very strong
It won't let me cry
It stays with me so long

It always comes at night
Maybe I'm just dreaming
Maybe it's just nightmares
But somehow I'm always bleeding

I want to run away from here
And never ever come back
Sarah has a monster too
Only hers is black

We'll run away together
From the monsters that are bad
We'll go where they can't get us
The monsters that are Dad

Eph 6:4

©SojournerG 2008 All rights reserved

Blessings to you BD for hosting such a forum and to you Zay, for bringing awareness to this tragic problem. "Even so, come Lord Jesus" Rev 22:20

We Flowed Poetically in DC while celebrating BD, vol 1:

This is just a sample of the images that have been shared with me. Thanx 4 all your good vibes & well wishes. Enjoy!

Thank You BD2Write Readers & Contributors

We, the executive team of BD2Write, cannot thank our readers and contributors enough for the amazing place that your interaction has turned this blog into.

Thank You to the contributors who use this as a forum to draw our attention to worthy causes. We are humbled - as we never knew that our simple concept would touch so many to share so deeply.

The interaction here IS poetic and greatly honors this Poetry Month.

Tell Me How You Do It

Who looks back at you when you stare into the mirror?

Do you recognize evil or are you just numb to your own horror?

How can you take innocence and twist it, crush it, spoil it?

What makes you think a child can be your personal human toilet?

How do you take your own precious daughter’s virginity,

Then tell her mother (your wife,) “There are 2 sides to every story”?

How do you (with a straight face,) tell your child Daddy loves her

When you know damn well all you want to do is fuck her?

How do you stalk her, harass her, and lie in wait

Using money, lies, and promises as bait?

How do you walk down the street and feel no shame

When you're fucking your own daughter, like it’s a game?

How do you sleep at night knowing that her belly aches,

Her body is sore and her little heart breaks?

Don't you think it's sick to deflower your own daughter?

Tell me, how do you do it? How do you call yourself a father?

I wrote that poem last year for SAAM. There are absolutely no words to express how privileged I feel to be loved as strongly, trusted as completely, let in as deeply as how Ali loves me, trusts me and let’s me in. The photo above was taken on my first trip to Jamaica. While Ali and I were together I was very surprised to see her crying. I mean we were having the most wonderful time in the world and there she was crying. I asked what was wrong and without looking at me she just said in that soft voice of hers. “I know you’re not leaving until tomorrow, but I miss you already.”

Peace and Love,

Alizé (LoversA.blogspot.com)

Text and Photo: Copyright © 2008 Xavier Pierre Jr. All rights reserved.

Wrong Seduction...

We talk about rape...
In all it's pain, anger portrayed, devastation, pain...
However, one of the truest forms of rape,
Is the seduction of the young,
The tapping in to a young person's fears,
Needs,
Wants,
Anxieties,
Lack of Self-Worth,
Alienation,
Then offering,
Something,
Anything,
That is wrong but can feel good,
Creating, conflicting, confusing feelings,
In a Developing body that can betray,
If touched in a certain way,
Saying the words that can confuse,
Making them think they made a choice,
When it was a seductive voice,
Saying come let me show and,
Tell you what I can do for you,
Kiss it,
Make it better,
Never leave you,
Will take care of you,
Over and Over again,
Then walking away leaving,
The child open to the next seducer,
Seducer,
Wrung dry,
Until there is nothing left to seduce...
Except the empty shell,
Not knowing how it ended up in,
Hell...

angelia vernon menchan

the queen4-6-08

the queen

the queen i see

she thinks

she lives in a castle

with rich souls

royal men

as they bow their heads

kissiing her toes

without questioning her peers

oh the queen i dislike

she's a dumb gullible bitch

a innocent whore

only mens' property

and she doesn't care who she is

she just follow her momma's footsteps

on the street

where there's the ghetto in the night

working for money

stripping down naked

a place where there's nobody treated her like a queen

only in fairy tales

and dreams

just bunch of ol' sick men

woke her up

raping her

beating her

while she cried out

on a violent storm

hating herself...

hating this world

that cause her so much

agony

she's no qeen after all

she's just a depressin

who lived in the street corners

watching the time goes by.....

~

©2008 Kai C.

for SAAM

it's about a woman who doesn't know where she is, thinking someone can only help her on a silver platter in the strrreets. but no , sexual violents came hitting her right at the heart....and she had lost all self-esteem.

it makes her even bitter!