Long Sexism Poems

Long Sexism Poems. Below are the most popular long Sexism by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sexism poems by poem length and keyword.


The Bigotry That Remains, Part I

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.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member The Least Racist Person Is a Racist

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.
Form: Rhyme

Women's World Part 1

Apparently, we’re living in a women’s world. Yes, we’re way better off than we were fifty years ago, but that doesn’t mean that sexism is just gone. The people who believe that won’t even listen to me when I try to tell them that they’re wrong. Feminism means equality, not that women are better than men.

What I really don’t understand is how they can’t see the invisible line in the middle of the room. The girls stand on one side and the boys on the other.

When a girl speaks to the male teacher, he cuts her off before she can finish or automatically assumes that she’s just not right. When she tries to put up a fight and prove her point, he’s not even invested in the conversation. He’s still half listening to the recapitulation of the last rugby game on the other side of that line as if the girl just doesn’t deserve the same amount of attention or he just thinks that her problems aren’t important enough. After all, he’s got other more manly stuff to be worried about. She just has to wait her turn.

But she’s already waited her turn. She waited for sixty minutes in the last P.E class. She waited an hour but she still didn’t get a single pass. Nobody gave her the ball because girls can’t catch. It doesn’t seem like that much, it’s only an hour after all, but it’s an hour of her life thrown out the door and it makes her start thinking that little bit more.

If this is how things are at the age of sixteen what will happen when she starts trying to follow her dreams? Will they be crushed by an over-imposing fist looking for something on which to cling to its male dominance, reaching for the last shred of its so-called masculinity? Will they crumble to the ground in a pile of ashes and dust? Will the space in her head she has set aside for her passions and beliefs start to rust with the slicing words made by an iron knife that cut her confidence down to the bone? After all, it is known that a man deserves more due to his “lucky” genetics.

Premium Member A Nation of Cowards

(Dedicated to you, my Brothers and Sisters)

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.

Copyright@, Hebert Logerie ,Thursday, February 19, 2009,
All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Peace For Parenting

So what sane parent
would intentionally lead their family 
into internal
or external war,
right?

Well, apparently former political
and religious extremists,
neonazis,
Islamic fundamentalists,
Christian fundamentalists...

Oh, wait,
I'm not sure their Republican White Nationalist 
AntiDemocratic First Amendment,
kleptocratic and oligarchical Second Amendment
LeftBrain rabidly ballistic dominant
Anti-natural/spiritual nondualistic health intentions
are yet media-conscious enough,
yet, still, these fake-Christians among us
are visible as far too comfortable
with Mammon's military-industrial ballistic defense

So terrified of Sodom,
Parents for Terrorist Religious War
and Threat of FinalRapture Weapons
neglect to notice
their own naked butts 
delightedly backing toward beastly Gomorrah.

Anyway, with or without reformed Christian NeoFascists,
Parenting for Peace
is against militarism,
possibly for the usual costly inhumane and environmental
and economic reasons,
but also because,
as mental health-recovering parents,
and grandparents,
and future great grandparents,

They see military-corporate theft
and associates
like colonialism,
and missionary zealous patriarchalism,
and sanctuary apartheid racism,
and homophobia,
and sexism,
and anthropocentrism,
and xenophobia
as corporate public health hazards.

Rabidity,
like subclimates of health,
wears both an internal, mental, spiritual face,
and an external, physical, natural Earth EcoSpace;
codependently negative, pathological,
as transectorally positive, eco/theo-logical 
robust future health potential.


Premium Member If I Had the Bazookas To Tell Them How I Feel

If I was brave, 
I would tell them of my sadness and disappointment, 
and reluctance to know them 
Based on what little I know of them

 Based on what I have perceived as their bigotry
 and racism and sexism. 
And based on my own misplaced anger, 
and sense of right which might be totally wrong.

 Based on past experiences 
Where people who looked like them hurt me.
 I would ask them to come with me and meet a new culture,

 People who might think differently than them, and differently than me.
 People who may be basing their reactions to me
On mean actions of others whom I remind them of.
	Miscommunication is easy, empathy and openness is difficult.

If I had the guts, I would tell the, that we might dance differently, 
Sing differently, talk differently 
We might even react differently,

 But we are all people, which means we have hearts, and souls, and we want to love.
                                If I had the courage
                                                   I would tell them.

Written 8-07-18                           Entered: If I had the balls to tell them how I really felt Poetry Contest
                                                       Sponsor: Line Gauthier

Premium Member Labelling People

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.

Premium Member Is It Not a Shame

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?

Premium Member manufactured girls

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

My Johnson Has Gone Viral and Is Famous In My City

There’s a picture going around of a man who’s from our city 
he’s got his Johnson out and my gosh it is a biggie 
the girls have shared it with all the girls it’s gone viral so I’m told 
my mate said laughing at me with this picture he did hold 
the man in this photograph had his hands over his face 
to hide his true identity and forever go untraced 
but my mate said to me he knows exactly who it is 
after he had noticed things the other people missed 
he laughed and he said Trimmer mate I know that man is you 
I said how do you know it’s me the face is out of view 
the room that man is in has provided many clues 
your bag is on the floor with your work shirt and your shoes 
See the side next to the bed all of those items belong to you 
there’s your backi there’s your lighter and the rizla that you use 
and next to it your phone and that wallet like yours blue 
and though the face is blocked that is your hair poking through 
and that’s why I am more than sure your Johnson is on view 
I said bloody hell it is as well I remember when she took it 
if I took pics like that they’d lock me up and call me crooked 
you said before it’s gone viral but they don’t know who it is 
I said you tell em straight it’s Trim and he hasn’t got a misses 
and as I starred at this picture they shouted are you gay Trim 
my mate laughed out and shouted back the picture is of him 
you’d think I’d be embarrassed but I’m far beyond what’s average 
and as the girls were loving it things worked to my advantage 
I was filled with pride knowing my Johnson had gone viral 
and no man is embarrassed when he’s carrying an eyeful 
Why did I cover my face 
how glorious it is 
she didn’t ask permission 
lock men up for doing this 

Sexism ay, what women get away with,
lock men up in cages labelled as a pig
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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