Oscars And Mozzarella; Sauce-y; Sexism & Women

Oscars and Mozzarella

Do you even know what you’ve got?
I stay up late in bed, praying I’ll get shot, because this life is dull – Incredible
That I haven’t yet took my spot, and have you ever lain awake
Remembering every mi-stake you have made
Well if so, you are me, incredibly, I am filled with all this:

Angst. Existing in a life of lies, I’ve come to realize
My grin was a manufactured guise to
Quell my ever-present frown
Discovered the internal peace created when I made my
Body a sketchpad, scraping away all imperfections
Skin cell by skin cell until all that remained was a red sea

My skin is a costume
I rip its fibers ‘til I find something beautiful
But I’m an onion; layer upon layer of cloak and deception shredded,
Skin tears; beauty’s vacant here
I break the basin entitled my body and smile as burgundy trails mark pathways
Up to my wrist’s passageway, because
Snipping salty skin with scissors brought satisfaction
And loving myself is too hard of an action, I’ve

Been in this abusive relationship for a decade
Slingshotting obscenities at self, thought
Escape was through 10 prescription bottles
Or a belt tied two times too tight around my neck
I beat me so you wouldn’t have to

Ending life left me with indecision because who
Am I to dismiss my
Existence when life’s school bell hadn’t yet rung
Caressed by words hate and cynic,
I was an oxymoron to the person I portrayed
My smile didn’t tell truth
Truth lay beneath my clothes in deep hues of purple and blues
Hands began slowly slipping into private corridors because
If love couldn’t find me, lust took its place
Yet happiness stayed unattainable so
I stuck with the refuge in my mind

Plagued by the speckled past of childhood’s snapping
Of daddy’s belts against my hide and momma’s cool slap;
Prisoner by my thoughts thus compelling institutions
To lock me up; when I said I was crazy, I meant it

When I said I was happy, I was kidding
Someone once said, “Every birthday is the reminder of a
Failed suicide attempt.” Wrong. Each birthday’s the remembrance of
Pretending I could survive a broken year without falling through the cracks, and
Fear had paralyzed my taking of action because you
Never know how self-homicide will impact your ticket to heaven

Praying to meet my maker early, hoping I
Shan’t be shunned like name’s Judas, will you still love me God?
Enough to bring me to your palace and I used to
Find home within my non-conformist ways or when
I’d dance in front of mirrors, teasing fantasy reflections with
Gazes and hip sways
But now I dwell in a house, homeless
With vodka my incentive to make me live with good purpose
And I’m a hypocrite

Conveying I’m content when that’s
Only when a can lid has spent an hour or three
Drawing depictions of smiley faces on my thighs
But I keep frown hidden, so no one’s tempted to search for my
Cuts and bruises. You can’t inflict me pain
Because I’m already used to it


You remind me
Of dripping, hot desire
Sizzling deep
In the underbelly, awaiting
Delectable release into
My passion-molded

The way you
Slide down my ready
Allowing your taste
To penetrate each and
Every taste bud

Ooh! I need you
Inside me
Right here, Right now!
In a pit too deep
For man to see

Can I say about You?
When my mind
Wanders to you
My brain cells commence
To doing the salsa
Switch! – To merengue
Switch! – To the tango
Switch! – To horizontal
Mambo, yo!

You got my cells
In a trance
Around your every
Thought, they
Just dance

Is this…
Lies and
Tells me that
I love you
But no I just
Need your
Sticky sweet

White-hot fire
Churned with seeping
Your heady scent’s so
Good, God
Too elated that
You’re mine!

Too bad I always
Gotta pay the price
Nick and Tony peg
You at about $2.25
Though to me you
Are priceless

Readily sell my
Soul and last dollar
Bills to you,

I sigh contently
Cradling you,
Breathe in your
Sweet aroma
And let your juices
Flow down my

Quenching my
Hunger, making me
Curl my toes
I moan in
Satisfaction, and close
My eyes
Until the crust
Only lays

My lust becomes
Until next allowance day

Sexism & Women
Fashioned from Gwendolyn Brooks’s line: “I bid be firm till I return from hell”

He said I
Was misogynistic. Allowing a bid
Placed on my ovaries, perchance estrogen be
born. ‘Cause testosterone be more firm
in confidence (yes?). That is till
a young estrogen beauty severs a couple heart strings; I
stick to biased notions. Refuse to return
to feminist feelings ‘cause fabled daughter won’t get as many rights as injustices from
horny, chauvinistic bastards. Leaving fabled son to overthrow life’s sexist hell…

Nykemah Warren, Age 16, Grade 11, The High School of Fashion Industries, Gold Key

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