Best Sexism Poems
Angel?
Demon?
Faerie?
Witch?
Random labels
None apply.
We are all changelings
Pure and simple
Or complicated and unpure
Depending upon the mood, the moment, and our momentous events.
Divorce, death, cancer, car wrecks, they all take a toll on us.
Changing us completely in one second.
Giving us a perspective we never had before.
Showing us that our opinions are not the same now.
Sometimes switching to the opposite side in one second.
When we become the needy, we stop bad-mouthing the freeloaders.
When we realize how close we are to homeless, we maybe develop a little more empathy for them.
There are life-changing events happening every day.
We may go into some of them kicking and screaming,
But we still
Go into them
Changelings that we are.
Angel? Demon? Faerie? Crone? We’d best leave labels well and good alone.
There are those in our society
who scream about fighting bigotry,
claim that we hate people with dark skin,
when you fired for insulting them,
claim that our women fear for their lives,
when the female sex is lionized,
claim that no one cares about the poor,
but nowhere else do the poor have more.
They keep having to go redefine
what bigotry must be in their minds
to find a new foe for them to ‘fight,’
...Or find excuses to smear the right,
when in truth on us they do project
their own prejudice, which we reject,
and in their gaslighting they won’t see
the types of remaining bigotry.
These days if you hate folks with skin pale
nobody gets up to gnash and wail,
no one declares you’re on the warn track
the way they would do if you were black.
In fact, degenerate leftists hordes
instead cry out that we should see more!
That their skin color makes them a blight,
they should apologize for being white?!
That an arbitrary fact of birth
is what should determine your self-worth?
That if you look one way you should bear
guilt forever, and endless despair
for sins of generations long gone?
That you’re responsible for their wrong?
That you alone pay for slavery,
when it was done by all societies,
be it black, brown, red, or yellow shade,
but it’s only one tint that must pay?
When you can shut down discussion hale
by screaming shrilly,”You’re a white male!”
When your claim pale folks are ‘born racist,’
and should not be allowed to persist?
When folks like I note the hypocrisy
the powers then try to silence me,
anti-white racists, the truth is plain,
allow this bigotry to remain...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
(Cinderella is the protagonist of the 1697 fairytale by Charles Perrault. The whimsical tale is later told in 1812 by the Grimm brothers.)
“Why, if it isn’t my dear Cinderella,
That twinkle in your eyes, still bright as your ballroom days,
In your smile I still see the sweetness of Nutella,
And in your glow some golden summer rays.”
“How do you do, old friend?
My schedule has been quite busy,
The chores of a princess seem to have no end,
Should I say of a prince’s wife, who often returns tipsy.”
“I must ask, with all due respect,
Why let a man who but found a slipper
Behave in a manner so incorrect,
Out all night favoring a stripper?”
“Oh, dear, you must know,
The man’s delight is but for a show”
“Cinderella, holder of a sunrise’s beauty,
Tell me why you refuse to see,
Why you remain so carelessly happy,
Treated with no sense of dignity?”
“I have reached my happily ever after,
And I do still get my daily dose of laughter.”
“I hope that someday soon,
You will fulfill your own fate,
You will sing your own proud tune,
And leave this pitiful pig of a date.”
Disgusting spiders
What's worse? Homophobia!
Racism and hate
No, I'm not saying sorry
For standing up for me
And I'm done being worried
For saying what I need
If you can't handle the truth, then
You can leave 'cause I'm not movin'
'Cause we're fighting this battle
And refuse to be losin'
You ask, Can I relax?
Can I ignore it and move on?
But I'm telling you, "No,"
I won't tolerate these wrongs
You tried to say that I'm not tough
You don't know what this life's about
Told me I wasn't smart enough
Before you even heard me out
I bring the fire, I bring the flames
Now I bet you won't forget my name
'Cause boy, you know I'll never chill
When you're the one who starts the game
No, no, don't tell me to chill
'Cause boy, you know I'll never chill
When you're the one who starts the game
It's not that we're impatient
It's just been too many years
No, nothing's been complacent
But we still live in fear
But our future's looking brighter
'Cause you know that we are fighters
You try to break our bonds, but
They only get tighter
You ask, can I relax?
Can I ignore it and move on?
But I'm telling you, "No,"
I won't tolerate these wrongs
You say, "Show me your body, babe"
But then tell me it's not allowed
You tell me I should hesitate
If I don't agree with the crowd
I bring the fire, I bring the flames
Now I bet you won't forget my name
'Cause boy, you know I'll never chill
When you're the one who starts the game
No, no, don't tell me to chill
'Cause boy you know I'll never chill
When you're the one who starts the game
If you had to live like this, yeah
Swear you'd understand our wish, yeah
Until we make it stop
Can't you at least let us talk
'Cause these feelings won't go nowhere
Can't be frontin' like I don't care
I'll die here on this hill, oh
And I'll never, ever, chill, no
If you say, "Tone it down a notch"
I'll make a point of being loud
It ain't enough to sit and watch
I'm standing strong and standing proud
I bring the fire, I bring the flames
Now I bet you won't forget my name
'Cause boy, you know I'll never chill
When you're the one who starts the game
No, no, don't tell me to chill
'Cause boy, you know I'll never chill
When you're the one who starts the game
No, no, don't tell me to chill
'Cause boy, you know I'll never chill
When you're the one who starts the game
Powerful words,
Truthful words,
Honest words,
Brave words;
This is exactly what the Doctor orders,
For a nation, who's trying to fight the horrors
Of blatant racism,
Unfairness, injustice,
Nepotism and sexism.
A man of Peace,
Without controversies,
Is not a genuine activist.
The truth is being tolled; there is no reason to apologize,
‘Cause you're exercising your God-given rights.
The sickness, the maladies,
Which America has been suffering
For over five centuries,
Need to be healed as you're reading
My honest feelings.
This is painful, this is long overdue.
My brave People are tired of fighting
The ills and the stigmas of our societies.
This is hurtful, this is way overdue.
The Truth hurts, thank God Almighty;
"Another One" is unafraid to tell the Truth,
"This One" is dissecting the false myth,
And the backward ideologies, thank God Almighty!
The prisons are populated by innumerable innocents,
The Police and their cronies randomly humiliate
Our parents, siblings and cousins.
We have every reason to be mad and irate.
A more just and fair system needs to be in place now.
The Brother is using strong medicine right now:
Powerful words,
Truthful words,
Honest words,
Brave words,
To save America,
The beautiful diva,
Who stands for: "Justice, Freedom,
Liberty and Happiness for All."
We should denounce Uncle Tom
And his monkeys. Brothers, who walk tall
Like you and our President,
Are rare and almost nonexistent.
The Truth will always set free:
The men of Justice, the men of integrity,
The men of Peace, the men of honesty;
The Brothers and Sisters who will tirelessly
Fight racism, the twin-brother of slavery.
P.S. This poem is dedicated to all my brothers and sisters.
Copyright © February 19 2009, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Sexism
Growing up we’ve always thought people were born with a disgusted look on their faces
Because that’s how they have always looked at us
Boxes
check 1 check other
People don’t know we hid between people like we do
They don’t swich and twitched activitly make decisions of which
Which part of us do we have to change to fit in today
Which aspect of are personality will a fend the least and blend the most
And work and succeed and bury the lead like a switchboard of traits that decide are fate
And were always wrong
Always worst than the boys
Always asking them to stop
And people point are way
Like the scarecrow
Like tornados blowing us which ever way the wind blows
Well we don’t want to play games today
Us girls are prepping for the final
Just like any footballer dose
The box is empty
And glaring and daring for us to choose one
Well were an expert at being ignored
Are whole life we have been preparing
And were an expert at it now
we can just to turn away From a nasty comment
In a second
Because where there is roots there is power
But all we are is topsoil
Are blood is like water and oil refusing to stick
Are old comments that have been sat in the back of are heads
That camera that locks all comments in a flash
Saved for when we cant last
That comment that sparked a fire inside us
That all fit in a box that can be carried from one side to the other
Of are heads
But that’s not a kind of question people ask
So many line in the sand
And so many cants and cans
We see both worlds
So why cant you?
And we skip and jump and dance
And still fall in between
We belong in the spaces between
Check all that may apply
After we are all the same
Some people hate because they do not know how to love.
I feel sorry for them; I wonder if they were ever loved.
But can I help them? No.
They have to figure out love for themselves.
It is easy to recognize these non-lovers.
Their sentences begin this way
I hate ….
I hate ….
I hate …..
I am not talking just three sentences, I am talking about
a passel of sentences; they hate all’s too.
I hate all
I hate all
I hate all
My neighbor told me that she hates all liberals.
I asked her if she has ever met one.
She said, “I hope not”.
I am the most liberal liberal I know.
I did not bother her with this.
What would be the point?
The least racist person is a racist
The least fascist person is a fascist
The least criminal is a murderer
The least sinner is a big sinner.
The least lawbreaker is a criminal
The least murderer is an animal
The least bad guy is a con artist
The least racist guy is a big racist.
Hell is full of bad guys
Heaven has none
Ask the Priest or a Nun
We are tired of hearing lies.
Lies no longer fly
Words are painful
And indeed powerful
Brave soldiers never die.
Human dignity is not for sale
Pride and respect are not on sale
Love is beautiful and universal
And Peace is never controversial.
Politicians should be role models
Blow the horns and ring the bells
The least racist guy is a big racist
The least fascist dude is a big fascist.
Copyright © January 2018 Logerie Hébert, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
To Him, No One is a Rank Stranger
No one is a rank stranger
hiding behind dark threats.
No one is a rank stranger
concealing their cruel epithets.
Recognizing an identity
that is unique-ly theirs.
Acknowledging an identity
and a desire they wish to share.
Finding a common experience
is the treasure he seeks to be found.
Finding a common experience
is as wonderous
glorious and marvelous
as any diamond discovered underground.
Becoming part of the family
by finding a way to care,
is being part of a family
with trust and love and laughter shared.
He is building bridges
starting on common ground,
digging for diamonds like a miner,
finding love where none thought could be found.
To him no one is a rank stranger,
Ignoring what sets us apart.
He’s finding value in the person,
seeing God’s image in every heart.
by Martin Braun
12/08/18
Dedicated to my mom who influenced me, and my friend Audrey who inspired me.
We’re manufactured girls,
designed to be beautiful and pointless.
Everything we tell you has to be true,
we feel we can open up to you.
We’re decorated and prepared for sacrifice.
We can touch your tender isolation
and reinforce your inadequate truths.
We can mirror your internal struggles
and help you shape your damnation.
You’ve caressed our powerless distress
a thousand times, with sleep's dark hands.
Don’t feel your destroying something beautiful
You know, when privately accessible
in the darkness of your man cave
our soft, immediate shapes
excuse extraordinary behavior.
That’s all we want.
.
.
A song for this:
Genesis. by RAYE
i was good,
though i was born with mens eyes
crawling on my skin like ants,
following me through the grocery store.
i was good, i was 5 the first time
i was told to close my legs,
sitting on the couch the same
way as my brothers,
told not to "distract" my brothers,
it wasn't ladylike
to be a child.
i was good,
i was 8 when i decided i hated skirts
and dresses,
and legs,
mostly mine,
mostly the way i felt naked in them-
dresses, skirts, legs,
and my own skin.
i had to be modest,
for it was a greater sin to be
a temptress than tempted-
i was 11 scratching at my skin
as if i could peel off the oil
of their ex-ray vision,
i covered up to leave something
to the imagination,
i covered up because they
wanted something to imagine.
at 12 i was good
and they started calling me a young woman,
my body grew to attract
different men,
i had the hips of a woman
and the knobby knees of a child,
i was 14 when the first boy confessed,
breath shaky with nervousness
holding me,
breathing me in like he was starving,
like i was something to be consumed.
surrounded by boys and men alike
both making promises and eating me alive
with the same mouths,
and then i was 16
and one boy took it too far
and didn't let me say no.
LET me say no,
because
i was only 4 when
the illusion of control was first shattered,
and i knew
i only chose what to do with my body
because that day,
a man was generous enough
to decide i could.
i was 18 when i first chose to sexualize myself-
i finally gave them what they begged for,
and the day they could no longer take it from me,
when i stood in my own skin
and met their eyes they could
no longer rape me with,
i was used up,
i was no longer good.
Shirley is a professional generalizer of people.
Rapidly slinging out stereotypes.
All blacks….
All Kansans….
All men…
All Irish….
All Asians…
All city dwellers….
All children….
All whites….
All teachers….
All Ukrainians….
All firemen….
All thieves….
All women…
She blames everyone in Portland for bad weather.
She says all Danish bake muffins in the morning
Her generalizations have alienated most of her co-workers
Her bosses use her to shorten people’s lunch breaks
A baby was born with carotene skin and left
on a Senator’s doorstep in Washington.
This neonate’s pigment was reddish orange,
bright too, unusually garish.
How will we label it? The lawmakers fretted
when the Senator took it to the Capitol Building
to try and find it a home.
It is not black, not white, not caramel, not pink, not yellow.
It is not an albino, it is carrot-colored.
How will it pay taxes? A Senator married to an I.R.S.
agent wondered. “It will not be able to fill out a W-2 properly.”
What will we label it? The senators all worried, crowding around for a look.
“How about you label her baby?” a visiting four-year-old child suggested.
Red squirrels, fluffy tails, clamoring up a tree.
Chattering with their cousins, in a group of sixty-three.
Gray squirrels, brown glittering eyes, to almost black.
Staying to themselves, in four hollow tree stumps in the back.
Making fun, laughing at, poking fun at each other.
Just because they are a different color?
One albino squirrel, seen easily at night.
Hiding her peach fur, staying completely out of sight.
Mother owl watches them run around willy nilly.
Thinking how crazy they are for acting oh so silly.
All the same species, she thinks, they should be all together.
They stay up in the tree, chattering loudly, no matter what the weather.
In groups of red or gray or brown, standing haughtily away from other colors.
Is it not a shame they do not treat their entire species like sisters and brothers?