deepundergroundpoetry.com
Untitled.
The only sex I had even known was intimate, passionate, a desire mutual of both.
But when eliminated, what is sex? Is it even sex? And why is it that the lust of one, can drive a human to forcefully commit such a gallant act habitually shared between two.
Amid an undignified duty and a conceptual blur, victims of lusts education can dare to rebel the divisions adhered, apiece we disregard and merely conform to three acts, love, sex and rape.
It’s funny how the concepts of words become so much clearer when the definition is all you so badly crave.
Because I never really knew the meaning of no until that night I was enslaved...
No was a plead, a hope.
No was me contemplating if life was genuinely worth more hanging from a rope.
No was his ignorance, his incentive, his oscillating breath.
No was his body trembling as he turned and left.
What is sex?
Because I can’t stand the thought of his wondering hands, or the fact that I was weak to his dispassionate demand.
The more my body’s fight anticipated, the more my strength disintegrated.
I can’t accept how my screams shrieked of silence and my eyes tears clustered in such violence.
I loathe how he paralysed my best efforts, and daily reminders haunt my ethics.
That name is an all too familiar burden to my lips, another mournful syllable to append my memories list.
I swear I’ll never curse in that artificial nights vain, because my sadistic words meaninglessly convey no apparent shame.
He forced his way into my life, because of it at night it’s sleep I sacrifice, and the happy times I’ve had hide under the sheets, just like they way I’m tried for relief.
Why do we always remember the bad over the good, happiness is momentary and misunderstood?
And why do people keep reminding me what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
Because I know that doesn't kill you physically eats you from the inside out.
What doesn't kill you physically, slowly disintegrates your mentality.
What doesn't kill you physically, draws your emotions to their darkest moments.
What doesn't kill you physically, in the end does.
LOVE, SEX OR RAPE, in the end your body will still shake.
But when eliminated, what is sex? Is it even sex? And why is it that the lust of one, can drive a human to forcefully commit such a gallant act habitually shared between two.
Amid an undignified duty and a conceptual blur, victims of lusts education can dare to rebel the divisions adhered, apiece we disregard and merely conform to three acts, love, sex and rape.
It’s funny how the concepts of words become so much clearer when the definition is all you so badly crave.
Because I never really knew the meaning of no until that night I was enslaved...
No was a plead, a hope.
No was me contemplating if life was genuinely worth more hanging from a rope.
No was his ignorance, his incentive, his oscillating breath.
No was his body trembling as he turned and left.
What is sex?
Because I can’t stand the thought of his wondering hands, or the fact that I was weak to his dispassionate demand.
The more my body’s fight anticipated, the more my strength disintegrated.
I can’t accept how my screams shrieked of silence and my eyes tears clustered in such violence.
I loathe how he paralysed my best efforts, and daily reminders haunt my ethics.
That name is an all too familiar burden to my lips, another mournful syllable to append my memories list.
I swear I’ll never curse in that artificial nights vain, because my sadistic words meaninglessly convey no apparent shame.
He forced his way into my life, because of it at night it’s sleep I sacrifice, and the happy times I’ve had hide under the sheets, just like they way I’m tried for relief.
Why do we always remember the bad over the good, happiness is momentary and misunderstood?
And why do people keep reminding me what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
Because I know that doesn't kill you physically eats you from the inside out.
What doesn't kill you physically, slowly disintegrates your mentality.
What doesn't kill you physically, draws your emotions to their darkest moments.
What doesn't kill you physically, in the end does.
LOVE, SEX OR RAPE, in the end your body will still shake.
Published 25th Jan 2013
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26th Jan 2013 3:18am
26th Jan 2013 1:06pm
Thank you for the feedback :)
This was the first, and only slam poem I ever wrote.
This was the first, and only slam poem I ever wrote.
27th Jan 2013 4:16am
I like this a lot good read, there's a truth to it and it conveys well.
I really quite liked the end too, that little voice in your head never does have many qualms about dragging you back through the mud.
And I especially like the last line, feels angry then trails off sadly.
I really quite liked the end too, that little voice in your head never does have many qualms about dragging you back through the mud.
And I especially like the last line, feels angry then trails off sadly.
27th Jan 2013 4:35am