Hear me #2

youthful abstraction


scraped rust from my tongue

older than before I was born for nothin

score the initiations of death

my gaming sport

rough and blunt points

for taken the hoes down

I’m not even tired yet

just getting started

gimme gimme


To call out my anger. To give voice to all sides in this massive and long holding violence so I can see touch be whole at least in myself. I’m not asking for some peaceful distancing. Some mental balancing. Somewhere in there lies compassion…somewhere. I will find this flower

© J.H. White

Hear me


You cannot return

to defile

the birthing of intimacy

within you.


My body is not a graffiti wall

absorbing the mark

of your disconnect.


The lack of boundaries you impose

will never dissuade the love

that takes us continually back to itself

as it births us anew.


Hear me


I am you.

But in this act

of willful indifference






 this seed, so stung

 germinating without sun

 grown from biting roots

 ungrounded in pain

 birthing emptiness

  returns to earth as dust

 as dust

 as dust


One Billion Rising

This poem was written for everyone who has been sexually abused….men, women and children. It is also for the abusers…those who clothe their own sorrow in indifference.

It is not a poem of exclusion. It is statement of strength and a prayer for the return to a sense of self and connection.

All aspects of sexual abuse come from the same seed. A seed that needs to lay fallow, bleach in the sun, and return to the earth as dust.



photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/henrygrey/1202156133/”>henry grey</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;