Rape
198 creative works found
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This woman is a victim of a seemingly never ending war in southern congo. She has suffered sexual violence (rape) so severe it has rendered her incontinent. She now exists purely as a result of a courageous charity called Heal Africa, and indeed her own inner strength and faith. I asked her if I could take her portrait and she stood up (which must have been painful), straightened her back and stared straight down the lens. No stopping to straighten her scarf, no preening, no fear. Just an honesty so raw, so uninhibited and so rare, I caught my breath and thought I’d never breath again. I was totally overpowered by her intensity. After I took the shot and showed it to her she smiled and thanked me. It still gives me a shiver to look at it now. HEAL Africa calendar available now!!! CLICK HERE. /
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This painting was created with interior house paint on canvas / H26” x W50” / Black Matte Gallery Frame / 2007 / 1800.00 “Faceless,” is dedicated to all the woman and girls who suffer injustices all over the world, and remain faceless to world. Although I created this image in 2007, and had titled it “Girls,” I didn’t fully realize what it meant until just this week. In the news, a husband kills his wife, by placing a plastic bag over her head, hangs her, and flees with the three children after countless please for help to local authorities. A father is convicted of keeping his daughter locked up as a sex slave for 24 years. Daughter now 42. Many females are enslaved, murdered, raped, tortured all over the world, and many more will remain faceless to us. Stop, think, and listen.
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A picture I took a long time ago.
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www.willpursell.com
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“If the dream is a translation of waking life, waking life is also a translation of the dream.” / ~ Rene Magritte
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Taken near Oakham, Rutland. / Like massive bugs marching through the landscape, combine harvesters busily graze many crops – this time, it is oilseed rape which is being devoured, acre on acre, field on field, providing an ever changing landscape.
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Oilseed rape field in full bloom on the outskirts of malvern, Worcestershire, England.
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Photo taken some years ago on the Lincolnshire Wolds. In the UK, this crop is known as oilseed rape, though it does have other names elsewhere in the world.
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Glorious sun rays bursting across a field in Oxford.
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Taken on Wednesday 4th June 2008. West Lothian, Scotland. Experiment using External Flash to light the Yellow Rape Seed Flowers. BEST VIEWED LARGE
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Statue by Jean de Boulogne (Giambologna) / Piazza della Signoria / Florence / Italy. More information…
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Digital recreation of a silkscreen print from the show at Fort Gondo in St.Louis.
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Main scene cropped from The smiling monster This drawing is about a confusing situation of rape by a seemingly good guy, who had no clue it was rape… / The victim is scarred for life, as all victims of sex abuse are. Violent rape by a stranger is more traumatic in one way, but when you are raped by someone you trusted, the damage can be even greater, at times. It’s NOT A PENCIL DRAWING – it’s a pointillistic INK drawing, like all my other drawings.
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A Single Lonely Tear
by InfinityRainA Single Lonely Tear / By Rain / Sometimes when I am lying in bed, the darkness enveloping me tightly, too tightly, the lonelin…
A Single Lonely Tear / By Rain / Sometimes when I am lying in bed, the darkness enveloping me tightly, too tightly, the loneliness setting in, I drift off to sleep, a single lonely tear cascading slowly down my cheek, caressing my skin like an old lovers touch…I feel the Sandman taking me by my hand and drawing me deeper and deeper into his web of tangled truths and forgotten realities. As my eyelids flutter and my mind lets go of its last traces of the here and now, I feel at peace for a moment. I want so badly to hold on to that feeling. I know that if I stay right where I am I can still get out to safety… but the sandman can be cruel and twisted, he drags and he pulls, he always keeps me moving ever downward into the darkness. Suddenly he is gone and I am left alone in darkness so deep and sinister it comes towards me with unseen hands. I try to stay calm but the hair on the back of my neck stands up, I feel a shiver in my spine that won’t go away, eyes watching me, I want to fight the need to turn around and see what is there, maybe if I stay calm I will make it through the night without them finding me. Just stand still, breath quietly…oh no!! I can hear my heart beating so loudly, they will surely hear it too. The voices of a thousand tortured souls waif past me growing more persistent, they come from all directions…I reach out in my sleep, hoping to find comfort, someone wake me please…All I get is a cold sheet beneath my quivering fingertips…the air grows heavier, getting hard to breath, darkness closing in, I am trapped…PLEASE won’t someone wake me, why is there no one that can hear my pleas for help? Why am I alone in my terror?? Then the waiting is over, they have arrived, they come forward in the darkness, taunting, teasing…laughing at me. They try to surround me but I break into a run. I know they will chase me and yes they will catch me but I have to fight this time, no matter the consequences I must fight…I swear to myself they will not take me alive this time, if they must have me it will be a shell. They run so much faster than I can, it feels like I am running through thick murky water, my feet will not rise and fall fast enough. Maybe I can lose them if I turn a corner and hide somewhere, maybe they won’t hear my heart beating out of my chest, maybe they won’t hear my mind screaming for mercy…. they may just pass on by…perhaps this time they will leave without taking my dignity, my pride…my world as I wanted it to be! Shhh I can hear them, they are coming this way now, their footsteps have slowed down. Are they confused? Have they lost me? Or…maybe they are taunting me like a cat after a mouse. NO NO NO NO NO PLEASE NO!!!!! I scream. They found me, they smell like they’ve been rolling around at the brewery, oh that awful smell, I feel rough hands on my arms forcing me down, hear horrible words spat in my face like an animal. My head hits the pavement hard I can feel it swelling already…someone please wake me up; I can’t do this again, not another night of hell. Why am I alone? Why can’t anyone hear my pleas for help? I try to resist, I try to fight, there are so many…they are so strong. I just want to go home, please can’t someone see what is going on, won’t they stop it? Can’t they see what they say about me is not true? As I smell the oils and the trash in the alley I feel my clothing being removed very roughly, they can’t wait to get started…to kill the little girl that wasn’t ready to grow up like this. They laugh and talk about who will go first…Warmth between my legs, something hard pressing against me. Oh God help me it hurts so badly… My eyes open…I am shaking, my body is covered in sweat but my skin is cold. I can still smell them, I am back in my room…alone. And a single lonely tear cascades slowly down my cheek, caressing my skin like an old lovers touch…cold and unfeeling!! Everything in life happens for a reason, even something as senseless, hurtful and terrifying as this.
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When the winter passes by, what a lift I get when the rape fields glow from the ground to the sky in the late spring. This was taken in early may. Its hated by most local people as its blamed for the hay fever and was not a crop of old.
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Rapeseed field in rural Austria
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Birth Pangs
by lianneI held her hands this fragile child about / to be a mother, twelve years old - / so delicate, a waif really, tiny bones and too small frame…
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May 2008 Sandwich, Kent, England The oil seed rape is still out in abundance at this time of year and stands out from a fair distance
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See version 1 for more details
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The Cleansing Sea (raw language warning)
by Anne van AlkemadeThe wind carried a voice from the scrub around the car park. The beast was enraged by the loss of its prey and by its boiling testostero…
The first chapter in yet another unfinished novel. Perhaps, when I clean my plate, this will be next.
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Crack
by Jo O'BrienNSFW
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Abandoned
by Jo O'BrienI woke upon a still cold night, and shivered in my silent room. Between my tears and quivering, I heard a door click closed afar. The dre…
I had nightmares all of last night and needed to get them out of my system / Writing is a good method of purging
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