Tag Archives: feminism

Playground, Battleground

You come here to play and hurt. 

But I have to bear your stares

and all the things that you do to safeguard the false masculine honour that you have created for yourself,

to taint the false feminine honour that you have painted for me.

You hate it. You hate it when I jump and run.

As if it isn’t the ground but your being that I’m stepping on and trampling.

I play with the inflated ball of your ego, it seems,

because tennis balls aren’t meant to hurt “strong boys” like you-

are they, now?

 

How I wish your ogling, hooting existence would diminish just as you aim to do to mine!

Though the thorns that you have strewn in my way, make my feet bleed;

with my blood-soaked feet, 

I will keep walking ahead.

And I will stain your perfect pavements,

the centres of your mafia of oglers.

My bloody foot-prints will tell the story of my struggle and your cruelty.

But remember:

My story is your stain, not mine.

I will not cower in shame.

 

Rather,

I will gather

all the hurt caused by your cat-calling, gawping existence,

encase it in stones that I will throw at you

with the same hands which you called weak,

as I stood alone and unarmed in the arena,

while you hid within your palace of privilege, along with your herd of gangsters.

Hunh. And you call me fragile?

 

Remember:

Your fragile, smirking, irking being 

can bring me no shame.

Hidden behind windshields, zooming past me in cars, you honk your filthy horns.

But my honour thrives as I walk across the malicious path of thorns.

 

Above all, remember:

You have already lost.

I am destined to win.

And this

is where I begin.

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The Unseen Vision

I wrote this poem a year ago, for each and everyone of you whose worth has been underestimated.

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You have been reduced to mere puppetry,

You’ve been told that you’re a subordinate,

That your life is sheer flattery,

For the superiors who decide your fate.

 

You’ve been told that you’re a burden,

That you are a desire-fulfilling machine,

That people will always shun

you; because that’s what you’ve always been.

 

You’re told that you’ve been worthless,

And so, you’ll always be,

You’re told that you’re utterly useless,

So you begin to see how they see.

 

They tell you: “You’re a servant,”

You agree and suppress yourself,

They tell you: “You’re impertinent

if you dare express yourself.”

 

You’re told: you are too weak and too mild.

In this world you’re either human,

Or a creature worthless and wild,

Which you’re told, the world calls ‘woman’.

But, O Woman!

You are higher than the highest tower,

You’re a slave to none but your Lord!

You are the prettiest flower,

And you are the strongest sword.

 

O Woman! You are so much more.

O Woman! You are ambition.

The skies are where you soar.

Your dreams will reach fruition.

 

Just hold on and believe.

Your cover is your weapon and shield,

And through your wounds you will retrieve,

Your position in the battlefield.

 

You are not an object to be used,

Or a toy for amusement and play.

Yes, you are hurt and bruised,

But heal yourself and say,

 

Say that you aspire.

Tel them, deep in your heart,

There’s been a sparking, flaming fire,

That will burn the dark apart.

 

O Woman! Speak up! Tell them!

That you don’t need to be a man,

To become the change that YOU can helm.

Show them that you can!

 

O Woman! You are you.

Isn’t that enough for pride?

O Woman! You’re such a beautiful hue.

Stay you, and beyond the seas, you shall glide.