Poetry Competition Ends 22nd February 2025 7:15pm
Poem of the Month - February 2025
Hail Insane Virgin
The virgin on stage, perfection and criteria,
attentive look, judge with mystery, blurred.
Extremely minimal details reveal sincerity,
but always with a dry, hard touch of evil.
Imperfections and false pretenses, makeup,
the black invades, the white keeps skin grey
so the virgin can go on searching for pleasure
for its own parts, obscure and needy, humidities.
They pray, oh, they prey... catch and fly away,
Harpy wings, no feathers, only plain old sins.
They slay, slowly, so meticulously draining
one victim after the other, no mercy, desdain.
The virgin believes its bowels are filled up
with all the vanities of the holy trinity bonfire.
Whiping the sinners as if they want more
of their sacred touch of virginity mental illness.
attentive look, judge with mystery, blurred.
Extremely minimal details reveal sincerity,
but always with a dry, hard touch of evil.
Imperfections and false pretenses, makeup,
the black invades, the white keeps skin grey
so the virgin can go on searching for pleasure
for its own parts, obscure and needy, humidities.
They pray, oh, they prey... catch and fly away,
Harpy wings, no feathers, only plain old sins.
They slay, slowly, so meticulously draining
one victim after the other, no mercy, desdain.
The virgin believes its bowels are filled up
with all the vanities of the holy trinity bonfire.
Whiping the sinners as if they want more
of their sacred touch of virginity mental illness.
Written by PAR
(PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
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Teehee!
When you see people unhappy,
Because you didn't fall for their tricks.
And laugh nonstop,
Because their faces are hilarious.
When you see them moping around,
Because they don't realize what you did.
You stared that gun down,
And turned it back at those kids.
When people see you happy,
For killing all those pricks,
Will they finally appreciate,
This suspenseful drama skit?
I'm the class act,
Distracting you from all the shit.
Tormenting all the teachers,
Because they're always a bitch.
I don't empathize these sorry idiots,
When I rob them of all their happiness.
I like to see people unhappy,
When they fall for my magic tricks.
I laugh nonstop.
Because it's hilarious.
Because you didn't fall for their tricks.
And laugh nonstop,
Because their faces are hilarious.
When you see them moping around,
Because they don't realize what you did.
You stared that gun down,
And turned it back at those kids.
When people see you happy,
For killing all those pricks,
Will they finally appreciate,
This suspenseful drama skit?
I'm the class act,
Distracting you from all the shit.
Tormenting all the teachers,
Because they're always a bitch.
I don't empathize these sorry idiots,
When I rob them of all their happiness.
I like to see people unhappy,
When they fall for my magic tricks.
I laugh nonstop.
Because it's hilarious.
Written by AfterSexDilemma
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the Tao
Horton got it right
We are a mere speck
Of a speck
Of a speck, et cetera
We can’t begin to fathom
Why we can’t fathom
What we can’t fathom
A million miles up there
Does not even begin
To touch the surface
Of the surface
The sun and the moon
Barely (in)significant
In its course
No comparison, immeasurable
There are no boundary lines
It does not break nor bend
There is no pre-emptive design
There is no end
You have no answers
There is no end
We are a mere speck
Of a speck
Of a speck, et cetera
We can’t begin to fathom
Why we can’t fathom
What we can’t fathom
A million miles up there
Does not even begin
To touch the surface
Of the surface
The sun and the moon
Barely (in)significant
In its course
No comparison, immeasurable
There are no boundary lines
It does not break nor bend
There is no pre-emptive design
There is no end
You have no answers
There is no end
Written by moon_bather
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Like I Was Never Touched
There are things I don’t say.
Things I press down so deep,
they never had a voice—
only suffering,
only pain.
My body was never mine, not really.
Hands took it before I even knew how to feel.
Before I could understand the perversion,
before I understood the way a soul can fracture
and still keep moving.
I have been taken so many times,
I stopped believing there was anything left to keep.
I have been seen, but never known.
Touched, but never held.
Wanted so intensely, but never loved.
And yet—you.
You, you look at me like I am innocent,
your patient hands,
your voice that doesn’t demand, doesn’t take.
You, who touches me like I am something whole,
like I am something that can still be pure.
How?
How do you see past all the damage,
past the nights I spent trying to disappear,
past the ghosts I still taste in my mouth?
How do you kiss me
like I have never been kissed before?
How do you make me feel untouched,
when I have been touched so much I thought I had vanished?
I swore innocence was something you can’t get back.
I swore love could never feel clean again.
I swore I would never let anyone see me naked
and believe I was more than a body.
And yet—you.
You, holding me like something precious.
You, making me new without erasing what I’ve been.
You, whispering my name
like it isn’t heavy with history,
like it isn’t stained.
With you, I don’t feel ruined.
I don’t feel used.
I don’t feel like I have to apologize
for all the hands that came before yours.
With you, I feel like a girl who has never been touched.
Like a girl who is touching love for the first time.
Like a girl who can finally – finally -
feel like a Virgin.
Things I press down so deep,
they never had a voice—
only suffering,
only pain.
My body was never mine, not really.
Hands took it before I even knew how to feel.
Before I could understand the perversion,
before I understood the way a soul can fracture
and still keep moving.
I have been taken so many times,
I stopped believing there was anything left to keep.
I have been seen, but never known.
Touched, but never held.
Wanted so intensely, but never loved.
And yet—you.
You, you look at me like I am innocent,
your patient hands,
your voice that doesn’t demand, doesn’t take.
You, who touches me like I am something whole,
like I am something that can still be pure.
How?
How do you see past all the damage,
past the nights I spent trying to disappear,
past the ghosts I still taste in my mouth?
How do you kiss me
like I have never been kissed before?
How do you make me feel untouched,
when I have been touched so much I thought I had vanished?
I swore innocence was something you can’t get back.
I swore love could never feel clean again.
I swore I would never let anyone see me naked
and believe I was more than a body.
And yet—you.
You, holding me like something precious.
You, making me new without erasing what I’ve been.
You, whispering my name
like it isn’t heavy with history,
like it isn’t stained.
With you, I don’t feel ruined.
I don’t feel used.
I don’t feel like I have to apologize
for all the hands that came before yours.
With you, I feel like a girl who has never been touched.
Like a girl who is touching love for the first time.
Like a girl who can finally – finally -
feel like a Virgin.
Written by KristinaX
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