Skip to main content

Of Misogyny and Whatever | Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu



POEM 170: OF MISOGYNY AND WHATEVER

In the world of man, the other has no say,
It's an ancient ritual, she bears the blame.
Wasn't Eden immaculate before she splashed the stain?
So he stands saint like a paradox of pain!

From faith, to fear, to what she should
She's made to believe to be God's afterthought.
They point her to man-made Talmud
and smear history on her face like sooth to clay pot.

Is she destined to live in denial of her existence?
Why lock her in a cage of your own pretense?
Why tongue-cheeky powwow
and knot your front tails into a bow?

She's a being equal!
Not licked up from the ground of God's afterthought!

She's a soul equal!
Not a stain on your bloated ego!

She's equal!
Not a blight in your dim eyes!

She's equal!
Not a threat to your clay throne!

She's equal!
...let that sink, man. 
😂

#365DaysOfPoetry
#Pengician
#SSA

Click HERE to Download SSA mobile app for Android Phones and get instant access to poems, writing tools and Poemify courses.

Enjoyed reading? Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Doris' Torment - A Villanelle Of The Rose | Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 298: DORIS' TORMENT - A VILLANELLE OF THE ROSE Doris couldn't stop thinking about the rose It was just so black and mellow But she could never forget the hose That morning, Doris was shocked by the pose She had to calm herself with a marshmallow Doris couldn't stop thinking about the rose Later, Doris was spooked by a prose She tried to focus on a fellow But she could never forget the hose Alex tried to distract her with a transpose Said it was time to start thinking about a martello Doris couldn't stop thinking about the rose Doris took action like an expose The rose was like a toxic jello But she could never forget the hose Doris nosedived like a tricky chose Her mind became dangerously yellow Doris couldn't stop thinking about the rose But she could never forget the hose ------- This is a type of poetry known as Villanelle. ------- #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Please leave a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!
6 comments
Read more

The Curve And Colors Of Hate | Uwen Precious Ogban

The Curve And Colors Of Hate When the evening news had broken Father spoke with a tone of pain and anger “Nigeria is a whore,” And my mother agreed Painting sensual scenes giving you pleasure of what looks like a garden that hides a landmine. And how trying to walk through it becomes slippery A journey asking for crimson libations, full of fractures and ‘Had I knowns’ while you looked over the fence for greener  pastures Her sighs spoke of a menu full of thrills but you are served double horrors She, Nigeria, abhors you later on when it relinquishes you of value, Truly, she is an old ‘Whore’ My Father picked it from there, “Nigeria gets hard as rock” Wants of men despised Sullen moods recorded in poems, speeches, and events, snubbed For as long as it makes sultry suplex’s on a comfortable ring – Nigeria is satisfied “Son, Nigeria is you, your mum and I” Guilty to a fault Pained by happenings that come with fire and brimstone Let loose from bellies that should hold  patriotis...
Post a Comment
Read more

Featured Article | Quicken Us, by Paul Albert

QUICKEN US So will not we go back from thee: quicken us, and we will call upon thy name. KJV Then will we not depart from you; revive us (give us life) and we will call upon Your name. Amp -  Psalms 80 vs. 18. Ever watched a movie where your favorite actor was beaten to a pulp? Beaten to the point where standing on both feet becomes a prayer point? But beyond the pain little sparks of adrenaline still moves through His vein, He doesn’t want to give up or rather He is Hell bent to be the last man standing. I am sure you’ve watched such. But wait. Focus on this…  How did that man who has had a beating of His lifetime overcome His greatest fears? Maybe He remembers countless number of people who would become slaves forever to a conquering enemy or how unpredictable their lives would certainly become or definitely the cry of the ones He loves most. Then a spark is ignited, a fire that actually never died starts flowing through his veins again. You can imagine the velocity of adren...
6 comments
Read more