melissaahowells

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The Petty Player Who Rarely Sleeps

I'd Like A Taste (The Wolf Said)

The Crow Is A Black Bird

When I Start to Bloom

I'd Like To Be Your Shirt (when you wake up in the morning)



All Beings Considered

Words Between Edward And Jane

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

After Wide Sargasso Sea ( For Those of You Readers Who Have Empathy For the First Mrs. Rochester.)

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

Wild and Unraveling

What Must Be

These Hands Exist July 4 2023 rei-edited 7/12/2023

I Am The Color Of Black

The Tide of Your Lies (2019-2023)

How I Wanted Your Pearls 6/24/2023 WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE

Love Wants What Love Wants re-edited 5/31/023

Winter's Been Too Long.... 4/18/2023 (LONGING)

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

At Night, As I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

And You Will Be Called Ashes As You Leave ( from a dream)

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

Someone Send Out A Search Party

THE FAN , AT NIGHT, GIVES GOOD ADVICE completely re-edited, an entirely different poem

What Is The Price For Your Touch? re-editied 5/31/2023

Where Is My Bed With The Pleasing Tree -Lined View(NOW REEDITED)

Oh What Fine Physics (Before Me ,Lies) re-edtited @4/17/2023

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

THE COMPANY THAT WE KEEP WITH THE ONE WITHIN

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the slave is freed


In my past,
I've been cheated
I have wanted to be truly valued
for who I am.
Not goaded for what I am not.

No longer point your bony fingers at me.
Or I will break them.
I will no longer be denied.
You are no longer my jailers.

I have been made mortally ill by
the sickness of thin privilege.
My Mother especially taught me self-hatred.

Your entitlement sentimentality
sickens me. But I frighten you.
You feel the need to deride me
because of your own fears.
You worry that you will become like me.
Because of this preoccupation,
you starve and enslave and drive yourself.
Only to find yourselves
enslaved to your body's daily needs.

Fat is the last bastion of true, mean prejudice.
It trumps all others.
Fat people tolerate more than you would ever know.
They are kinder to others who experience prejudice.
If you scoff or laugh at this,
you are lying to yourselves.

I have known true thinness and its trickery
for a full sixteen years of my life, maybe a few more.
They were filled with unease. I did not feel pleased.
There was no guarantee of happiness. There never is.
Thinness is a shriveling carrot of a magical cure.
You have always lied about this.

There is an odd phenomena experienced by the "newly thin."
When one loses weight, one suddenly gains more attention.
For me this was not positive. Disease and rape were thinness's
rewards. There are no directions taught on how to take care of
yourself when people see you differently.

I was never different enough. I was just myself.
But I'd like to make peace with my body. But there is more to
the problem...

There's the issue of maintenance,
and the worry of failing over and over again.
In this society everyone has an eating disorder.
Its a preoccupation. I would say more of an occupation.
Many women make a career out of it.
Men lie about it not mattering.

Weight loss is not a virtue.
Nor a free pass to success nor happiness.
Don't lie to me. Many have been laid waste by your lies.
Your judgments. Your prejudice. Your blunt ignorance.
No more. I think you should stop.

I feel spit upon. Yours is an idiocy I can no longer accept.
I will not turn the other cheek.
I belong in this universe. This is my time.

My new creed: (You cannot take my self-respect away from me.)
I will eat naturally in response to my hunger. I will enjoy
eating again. I will not punish myself. I will trust my
own judgment. I will throw away the stereotypes.
I will embrace myself and value me as a whole human being.
Not some amorphous blob.

I won't heed your blither-blatherings and insults.
Point your broken finger back at yourselves.

You are defeated
banished.

You are longer my jailers.

I will not be your slave.




Copyright July 30, 2014 All Rights Reserved By This Author
All ideas, stories, poetry expressed here is the legal property of
this author. Meloo/Melissa A Howells straight from her Tilt-a-World


If unfeeling feedback is made here,
I will consider perhaps you might be
a little unworthy of being a poet.
You see, a true poet has a heart
and hopefully, the good sense to use it
in situations where it matters.

I won't be censored/lectured.
If not, WE CAN CERTAINLY AGREE TO DISAGREE.
There is no merit is insisting on being right.

Remember the terms clause of poetry poems
re: harassment, bullying, negativity etc of a fellow
poet.










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