Horses hell bound for their hooves To shed such shoddy iron shoes -Nail impaled, consent nonexistent- Bridling at the bit, biting at the bridle Unseen, unheard, the Whip undefeated After years of despair and yearning Fighting desperately for their freedom Cutting old chords, now carving new clay Away to grass and grand evergreens They rise in attempts to rid memories rooted More thoroughly entrenched than sentinel trees - - But the bridle, bit and saddle still burn from yesterday ———————————————————————————
Consent for Dissent by Somethingguy912, literature
Literature
Consent for Dissent
Get Consent for Compliments
your intent was to go in me
like a camper tent with your
continued content in contempt
of oppressors and the like
Get Consent for Comments
it's nothing but harassment
meant for playful resent
of other's sense of sentiment
much to the detriment
of those who still lament
Get Consent for Dissent
there's no argument
to have on feminist
rhetoric so can it
and believe the lie
I got consent for compliments
because you want to rape me
and beg me to make me
a sandwich in the kitchen
that's ignorant towards women
I got consent for comments
block the feed for the betterment
of glorious content in hell bent
lack of fervent
'Consent' doesn't mean 'Not saying 'No'!' by vampiricelfbites, literature
Literature
'Consent' doesn't mean 'Not saying 'No'!'
It had been a long, busy day. Days in the hospitality industry often are. This particular day had been especially busy as one of our Chefs had walked out on the job and I had been called back from Front of House to work in the kitchen. I didn't mind, I love working FOH but I like to cook too and the Chefs weren't the scary kind that sometimes inhabit commercial kitchens.
The Chef suggested that we catch up after work, over coffee to discuss the up coming roster as changes would need to be made to accommodate being one Chef down and my ability to step up into kitchen work. I assented, after all the roster would need working on and I was excit
I tried to displace the memory,
Haunted by your cruel actions,
Processing became the only option,
To let out the flood of insecure positions,
Thought speaking would help,
Refuse the memory any space,
Letting my psyche be spared,
Letting depression know it’s not welcomed here,
Believing it’s subject would subdue,
But when I saw you there was nothing I could do,
Panic, flashbacks of sorrow,
A night of undying horror,
Your mouth speaks a different story,
But you crossed a mighty powerful line,
Believing your touch to be just fine?
BUT THIS BODY IS MINE! … mine.