30 Poems: Day Twelve



I am a card-carrying feminist. Have been since the age of 11. I shudder whenever I hear a young (or older!) woman declare “Feminism has gone too far”. While women are still 85% of the world’s poor, 85% of the world’s illiterate, own 1% of the world’s worth (don’t quote me on the stats…you get the picture), and while women are still subjected to patriarchal dictatorships where their bodies are owned by the state and by specific men, feminism has not gone anywhere far enough.

Today is for Amina Tyler.

My prayers are with you, sister.

P.S. The breasts above are mine.


My breasts are many things.

My breasts hold many things.

You leer at my décolletage,

yet berate me for immodesty when I feed my baby.

You search for photos of them on the net

yet start a riot when I post my own photo.

You speak sadly of breast cancer

yet ban a picture of a scarred and tattooed woman.

You want them minimized when large

yet want them siliconed when small.

You want them out of sight

yet you want them on your face.

My breasts are many things,

but they are not a flag-pole to your double-standard.

My breasts hold many things,

but they do not hold your honour.




3 thoughts on “30 Poems: Day Twelve

  1. I admire breasts, look here and there.
    Some are on display, some are hidden away.
    An innocent peak as we talk causes me to think.
    I try to resist but your hard nipples need to be sucked, perhaps even a titty fuck.
    A pervert am I that YOU were responsible for my erection?
    It’s not my fault, i apologise for any insult.
    Let them hang out, let them be free.
    Take off your bra and I will light a cigar.
    Ask a lesbian nun about feminism

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