human trafficking
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I submitted across the river
To save my life.
I submitted across the border
To get to a better life.
I submitted to trust
The One Unseen
She lies on the bed,
Or rather,
The filthy, old mattress.
There is no civilized word that can be used to describe it.
Little Angel
Her name
Means little angel.
It is a fitting name,
Though she does not know
She was not even old enough to know
The first time she was sold.
Men would come;
Men would go. She could only come;
She could never go.
She always did what she was told,
They Come
They come in the dawn. They come in the night.
They come in the dark.
They come in the light.
They come in the Morning,
And afternoon.
They come in the evening,
all i could think about
when he pushed his way inside of me
was his enchanting stories of a better life
Taken: A Spoken Word
Streetlights
Hood up
Head down
One foot in front of the other
Silence
Power was not what I gained
Rather what I used
Knowledge was what I used
And also gained
POETRY was a time machine
I wrote of the anguish of a slave
To say he or she was not important
Houston, Texas is the sex trafficking capital of the United States.
The average age of female victims that are first captured is 12-14 years old
Boom! Crash! Snap.
"We can't protect the fallen.
We can't relieve the screeching
Even if we try."
Trembling and weak
America the Great,
America the Free,
Right?
If we’re so great,
Why am I scared
Of the shackles of student loans?
Red lipstick. Red nails. Red dress. Pearl necklace. Perfectly still; and deafeningly silent. What a beautiful sticky mess.
2016 a year with eyes wide open
To a world, where things are cloaked, covered, and unspoken.
This year, full of fear, where humans are bought and sold like meat
Whose eyes of compassion, we'll never see.
Awareness is a word in which we tend to agree, something that inspires us to set the lost people free. We listen to the presentations, see the kids suffering from malnutrition, the hunger in their eyes, the bloated bellies.
Pass the threshold without an invitation
Strip yourself of identity
Inhale your poison and swallow your potion
Later, wipe this too from your memory
Get comfortable, the siren speaks,
One by one they pass by
Looking down upon the girl that sells herself
There eyes yell disgusting words and hatred
They don't even try to look into her dull blue eyes
A thump. Then a scream.
"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING"
I wanna go home.
Help stop human trafficking. Bring them back home.
This is for the women with the broken bones
With the shattered heart and tattered clothes
This is for the women with silent voices
Who made tough choices that were seen as pointless
Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock
Those sounds like the arms of the clock, but in reality those are the gears in my brain,
Trying to work their way around the problems I see
Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock
Nothing is slowing down.
What would I change?
Change comes in many forms
Physically and mentally.
You change the color of your hair to fit your personality.
But what about permanent changes,
the ones we never get back?
I hear your stories and feel your pain as if it were my own.
An anger and passion feel my bones as i figure out
How? What? What can i do to help you?
No, I haven't seen the streets nor have i taken that high
Beauty fades;
it's inevitable.
Our bodies are our shells
like eggs they crack, they decay.
But the inside is what nourishes us,
mixes together with other human ingredients
Day after day in this room, all I am, all I know is to their slave.
Day after day, I see the others, young and old, male and female, all locked away.
She had hopes and dreams.
She had family.
She had friends.
One vulnerable moment,
and it changed her life forever.
Next thing she knew,
she was somewhere, someplace,
surrounded by strangers.
Her eyes,Melting away,Into sadness,Into decay,People who,Describe her look,May say she's undecided,But not a crook,When she rises early in the morning,She makes no sound,
When A woman lays down and gives her innocence to a man it's described as beautiful
When A man takes advantage of the privelage it's often usual
Being A good father to your child is unusual
I sit here letting out silent pleas
With the blood that I bleed.
I cut myself, once again,
Hoping that it will cause my heart to bend
Bend yet not break
But in the end, I can barely keep myself awake.
I am broken.
My skin, my soul, my heart, my mind.
I am broken.
I am wounded.
My heart has been stabbed and
Is bleeding out of silence
Crying hoping someone would see….
But they don’t.
I look in the mirror and what do I see? The beautiful girl God created me to be. But just wait a second, it wasn’t always that way. Rewind 16 years, and that’s not what I would say. As just a little girl, I grew up in a crazy world. My parent
She's beautiful
Full of life, just amazing as she can be.
She doesn't even notices me,
or knows that she will beg to be free.
I quickly think of a plan to capture her.
Then Sale her like rare Mink fur.
she struggles from the hardwood like a creamy stalliondrowning in a raging surf. her limbs
the appendages of a white crab spider sprawl bent,slender supple bones. her eyes
Sometimes I dream
That I will see them again
My momma
My poppa
But when I wake
All I can see is darkness
I do not breathe in air
This is pure musk that fills my lungs
Rusty bricks painted by graffiti.
Lit neon flickered—
Quick Draw! ATM Inside!
Steam rose out of street grates
as if it were ghostly fingers come to carry sinners below.
The sign posted—
She's forgotten where she came from and who loved her,
Those fairy tales and bedtime stories she can no longer recall.
Only strangers that smother her in stinky sweat and hot breath
She sits upon dirty sheets
Sheets that smell like sweat and dust
Lewd lust swims in the air like flies
The boss’s voice rings from outside
What would I do?
Only if you wanted me to,
I would chase down the Sun for you, spending my lasting days chasing a setting Sun.
For why would I wrangle in the moon?
What would I do?
Only if you wanted me to,
I would chase down the Sun for you, spending my lasting days chasing a setting Sun.
For why would I wrangle in the moon?
Gentle words, soothing and caring,
Filling the holes with stones.
They don't fit right, but they stop
the heartache, the sadness, the lonliness
(poems go here) Thousands of people taken and killed every day
Tortured in every kind of way
Forced to do things that no human should be forced to do
Without being given simple freedoms wouldn’t you hate that too
We stood.
We stood in the streets,
On the courthouse steps,
In the park,
By the church.
We stood.
Taken from familiarity
All comforts stripped away
Just like her soul
Exposed to all, disrobed
In the most unceremonious
Of ways
What would you do if I told you; there are 27 million slaves worldwide?
How would you respond if I told you; there are more slaves now, than when Lincoln was alive?
Now they’re not all black, and they’re usually not men,
In the night
they seek young girls for their amusement
sometimes
they hunt with bait
dripping with honey
sweet words
nice calls
pretty gifts
they crave injustice
like its a bigmac
The day came when
the Sun did not shine,
the Rain would not fall,
and the Wind refused to blow.
The Planets wept
but ignored were the tears of these celestial bodies.
