Shame!
Look at your body.
Shame!
Look at your skin.
Shame!
Look at your achievements.
Shame!
Look deep within.
Shame.
It was brought upon us!
Shame.
All in one that we don’t need!
Shame.
I don’t want to be this!
Shame,
Impressed itself on your mind.
It’s a shame,
The relatability of something so vague.
But shame
is on us…
Shame,
It makes us all bleed.
Shame…
All shame is blind.
Shame…
It’s a shame, you’re ashamed.
I’d never want to be a celebrity.
People insult them, curse them.
They either hate their style
or love it way too much.
They hate them for their spirits
or love the way they touch.
They are “rarely soulful”,
they are solely art.
Objects to admire.
Objects to destruct.
Celebs are not the artists,
they are public trash-
sold and assembled;
the reader talks about.
They’re no longer people,
as people should be loved.
They can be admired
before they fall apart.
Before anyone reads this „poem“ (if anyone reads it at all), I’d like to mention the reason why I wrote this. It is because I’ve read something that in a way belittled women, and it made me feel really unappreciated. It made me remember all the times my words weren’t heard and weren’t taken seriously. I’ve remembered how much I’ve cared about my looks and how people perceived me. Something just snapped in my head and yet again I’ve found myself wanting to give up trying (whatever I am trying at the moment). But I do really want to be a no-one, in a way that I want people to see my qualities and not my gender. I want my looks to become see through and I want to accomplish something in my life. I really want to find motivation in myself and focus on the things I can do, even when people „diss“ me because of my gender. Most of all, I do not want to be a damsel in distress nor depend on anyone but myself. That’s how I plan to be happy.
–
A nobody.
–
I’d rather be a no-one than a woman,
In a forest defined by norms and sticks.
Black and white lines that beg to be bought
Bargain and plead, reduced to a bar code.
–
Faceless, amorphous,
But still a pure echo and a voice to be heard:
I am a nobody, so hear my roar.
I belong to nobody, no-one at all.
–
Only nobody can have me
And I will hold that person dear.
Qualities, sincerity
Values won’t disappear.
–
I’ve waited so long
To discover who I am.
Here comes the truth:
I am nobody… and that is all that I am.
1
ruke su moja violina.
my hands are my violin.
usklađeno ih mičem.
their movements are harmonised.
svaki trzaj ima svoj uzorak.
each twitch has its own imprint.
svaki trzaj ostavlja melakonični prizvuk.
each twitch leaves a melancholic undertone.
tragovi su posvuda…
traces are everywhere…
u usiljenim osmjesima.
within forced smiles.
pokušavam ostvariti njihovu realnost.
i’m trying to actualise their reality.
u toplim su riječima i utjehama?
are they to be found in kind words and consolations?
čak i mozak počinje raditi mehanički.
even the brain is starting to work mechanically.
čak i umjetnost ima svoju funkciju .
even art has its purpose.
tehnika je postala mojom utjehom.
technic became my consolation.
ruke su moja violina,
hands are my violin,
a instrumenti se njeguju.
and instruments should be nurtured.
i sav sjaj ostaje na vještini, vanjštini.
all the shine remains on the surface
da se prolaznici dive izložbama.
so that passers-by can look
da vide prošlost na tebi.
that exibition can become your personal history
kako si plesao do tada i tad pred njima.
the way you danced till then and there
svi znaju sve o tebi.
everyone knows all about you.
prave se…
and pretends…
kao da te znaju bolje od vlastite majke.
as if they know you better than your mother.
ti lutaš među osmijesima.
and you’re wandering around those smiles.
ne znaš koja faca je iskrena.
not knowing whose face the honest one is.
"Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?" - E. A. Poe 