piles and piles

of dead fetises.



of children,

sacrifice of blood


Planned Parenthood

witch coven of blasphemy,



crushed skulls,

battered brains,


piles of little arms;

a wasteland of death







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Death Before Life

Entering the clinic,

under the impression

that it will be quick and easy


Just like any other routine physical,

hoping it will be painless,

just wanting to get it over with


To be free of the responsibility of another

life, which has not yet been born;

to deny a name that has not yet been given



Author's Notes/Comments: 

"The giving and taking of life will always be altering the future"- Chuck Schuldiner

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Left With 8 Children By A Husband




I've never had

an abortion, but then

again I've never been

left by a husband

when I was pregnant

with 8 children.

I've never been totally broke.

I've never known I had

a life-risking pregnancy.

I have no right to interfere

between any woman and

her decisions.

saiom shriver

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By jfarrell



As a man,

I don’t carry the baby for 9 months;

So what possible right could I have

To offer any view on abortion?


“even rape victims should not be allowed abortions”

This, from a leading politician;

Sometimes, like amputation, abortion is necessary,

I should certainly have been aborted.


The woman has all the responsibility,

So the choice should be hers;

Men, please stop being so bloody arrogant,

Especially if you’re a politician.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

jacob reece-mogg, what a warm, loving, caring person

View suicideslug's Full Portfolio

Abortion and What it Means to Me to be Pro Choice

by Jeph Johnson


The so-called "Pro-Life" movement evokes very strong passions. I know for I used to be one of the picketers. And I can attest, I did indeed rally from a place of "blinding intensity."


Two things made me eventually take pause:


The first was the pregnant picketer who stood next to me smoking her cigarette while decrying women making (what I knew deep inside were) more responsible choices.


The second was seeing people (mostly men) escorting women in to the clinics to avoid being yelled at, blockaded or shamed. First I questioned these people's motives. They weren't doing it "for God", so why'd they do it?


Still I felt this picketing was what God needed me to do. My "calling", if you will. A calling that became uglier and uglier with each woman I scorned.


Over the long process of deprogramming myself from Christian salvation (I call it "waking up") I grew to loathe who I was. I had reasoned (without the aid of scripture, so I thought) that abortion was "murder." Like "sin" a very harsh, overzealous and frankly unnecessary word.


Finally after realizing death is often a necessity in order for some to more fully live (and that not all mistakes needed to be called "sin"), did I come to realize the importance of being pro-choice and simultaneously abandoning Christianity!


Even now I won't say I am 100% pro-choice, because deep inside I always have an opinion as to what is best for others, but my goal is to not let that show--unless asked. And even then, do so in a very sensitive way. In some situations I've had to stop myself from being too "pro-abortion"; I've had to stop myself from allowing my opinions to influence another's reasoning (and ultimate "choices") that belong solely to her.


Much like freedom of speech, where you need to approve of a person's right to say stuff you may disagree with, being pro-choice means being supportive of a woman's choice regarding her reproductive rights, regardless of whether you approve of the decision she is making. 


[Please do not comment on this if you are going to attempt to change my mind back to being "pro-life".  I do encourage you to post your own arguments, however, on your own status update and if you want my replies, just hotlink me.  This update was made to clarify to others the reasons why I hold the beliefs I do]


Author's Notes/Comments: 


View daddyo's Full Portfolio

A Baby's Heart-Wrenching Scream

Something happened to me and it was extreme.

As I was aborting a baby, it let out a loud scream.

The scream was heart-wrenching and it was chilling.

It was terrifying and I certainly didn't like the feeling.

There were no ifs, ands, or maybes.

I decided to stop aborting babies.

I can still hear that baby's horrible scream.

I would give anything if it was only a dream.

It was an experience that I truly deplore.

I decided then and there not to abort babies anymore.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is based on a true story.

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If I was an animal , I would d be a broken phoenix,

Reaching the top, dancing with the fuzzy clouds,

To show you, the pain fuelling my weak breathings,

Broken wings, anyone would be able to follow the trail,

Of ashes burning under the sun and crossing oceans,

Because the child in me never say stop,

Water or fire, are my elements,

The disguise of my pleasure ,

And if he has to listen a lies,

I forgot my address, my mobile and my emails,

I would rather take the blame,

And leave ashes , amnesia over the Atlantic,

I can see the titanic but your name never show,

I guess, you must have been in third classes,

Never stop me to reach for the stars,

I would be the filth and whisky,

Woman delirious to the prospect of freedom,

Dress lifting in the salty air,

Mans stumbling through big ideology of a new land,

And even the sea, would not crash my feeble wings,

Because in life you have to battle to win,

The rain will my mistress and the sun my prince,

My failure so to speak but this is the kid,

The phoenix died long ago,

On a summer day when dreams was allowed,

So please let me dreams a little while,

But if you stay and reach for the stars,

And talk to the tree and your little fluffy friend,

He would tell you the same thing, jumping from one tree,

To the next one, running away, to hollow space,

The shadow on the morning dew grass,

While you sip your coffee,

When I spend the night to cook a feast,

Because I never accept what could be the true,

And your words rest silence,

The trail of his ashes have already disintegrating,

Over the cold water, do you realise you pay the price,

When the sequin shall stop shine,

And glitter on your eyes melting,

is not so bad,

Because I know in my next life,

I be an animal, I shall be a squirrel,

Jumping from dead branches and defecated trees,

But under the rain or tornado,

I would never stop to dream, cos this is all we have…

You can claim the opposite in your throbbing,

When the phoenix reborn from his ashes,

And I see your regrets behind the windows,

I would take all my strength and head straight to the glass,’

Like a silly child I am! Cos in disguise, I am a Bengal tiger,

The ones who keep turning in circle in India,

And the shatter of the glass would be your jewel’s?

The tears rolling please “did you realised it too late?”

But I knew your gentle hands would pick me up,

And burn your flesh, as I would turn again to vestiges,

There is so much time a phoenix can reborn…

But it does means it does not hurt,

When you’re burning dreamless fingers,

Crawls outside the world to let the wind steals my glory tune,

Flew upon the dust I become for you.

And don’t feel so sorry for me,

Just pick the phone by the end of the day,

When the shadow falls I guess all shall have vanish,

Broken glasses, a single feather left on the kitchen table,

Don’t give up the sweet whisper, barely listening,

Will mourn to your ears but I guess it is more easy,

Seating and watch the squirrel,

Ageing but still appealing do circus acts,

Because the dust might have by then disappear crossing the ocean,

To rest and stardust, maybe the omen

Staining your folly nights,

Kid has no shame to show their last remaining moan,

Falling upon the sea,

The morning shall rise with his gospel,

To whisper, “sweet angel your lost!”

Dreams are so rare but I can see your faith hidden,

The same old lullaby holding hands with the same hopelessness,

the pill, hard to swallow to shoot me, while I was flying to you,

Because crazy peoples do crazy things,

And next time, if you see a bird surfing the ocean,

Remember, this is the gosth of your future….


Author's Notes/Comments: 

how many time i have been reborn?









gazing past the moon and stars


 my eyelid begins to close


as i reflect back to where my soul was left,


in the bottom of that dumpster,


among the kitchen drainage and waste


of slimy, rancid and maggot ridden rubbish,


swept away from a darkened, smokey room,


laden with guilt-stricken, human auric toxicity,


a mother lying spread eagle 


upon a bare and blood-stained wooden table


from the local goodwill store,


clad with nothing but a worn and well used sheet,


a metal hanger tearing the walls


of her vaginal vault,


i am erased in a moment she took to


her grave,


and remain a secret


that never died.


guardando oltre la luna e le stelle


  la mia palpebra comincia a chiudersi


Mentre rifletto di nuovo a dove la mia anima è stato lasciato,


sul fondo di quel cassonetto,


Tra il drenaggio cucina e rifiuti


di viscido, rancido e larva spazzatura cavalcato,


spazzato via da una buia stanza fumosa,


carico di sensi di colpa al panico, tossicità aurico umano,


una madre che giace spread eagle


su un tavolo di legno nudo e insanguinato


dal negozio avviamento locale,


rivestito con nient'altro che un foglio logoro e ben utilizzati,


un gancio di metallo strappo i muri


della sua cupola vaginale,


sto cancellato in un attimo ha preso a


la sua tomba,


e di rimanere un segreto


che non è mai morto.


mirando más allá de la luna y las estrellas


  el párpado comienza a cerrarse


Al reflexionar de nuevo a donde mi alma se fue,


en el fondo de ese contenedor,


entre el drenaje de residuos de cocina y


de viscosa, rancio y gusanos basura montado,


barrido de un cuarto ahumado oscuro,


cargado con la culpa del pánico, toxicidad aura humana,


una madre que miente spread eagle


sobre una mesa de madera desnuda y manchada de sangre


de la tienda de fondos de comercio locales,


vestida con nada más que una hoja desgastada y bien utilizados,


un gancho de metal rasgando las paredes


de su cúpula vaginal,


estoy borrarse en un momento en que llevó a


su tumba,


y seguir siendo un secreto


que nunca murió.





 traduzione da Inglese a Italiano eSpagnolo da Google

Music by 'Live'

Foto de la web




11:17 PM 7/24/2013 ©







Author's Notes/Comments: 

Abortions of the past hopefully stay in the past.

Aborti del passato si spera rimanere nel passato.


The photo is not of my creation. I got it from the web. It fits perfectly.


Inspired by: http://www.postpoems.org/authors/ashes_twisted/poem/964071





Living a life im not proud of leading, yet I still remain here, never have I though about leaving. Support you I will, even though what I do doesnt show what I feel. I dont think we would make it, and I hate having to fake it. But this is what we made, what we created. There werent no mistakes, there was just some bad choices, thats why we must follow through with this, and not ignore quiet voices. We will fight together, because its what we chose, but there will be no fairy tale, there will be no prose. Decisions were made without considering, and life will be lived without ever remembering.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about lust, and pregnancy. But about commitment and hate. Take the message how you want it. It can have many meanings. Please comment with what you think.