Long Sexism Poems
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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
Eleven years since we first met
Not an ounce of regret
We met online and chatted for a while
Everyday you made me smile
There was a big elephant in the room
A big lie I had to assume
Every excuse not to meet me in person
You either weren’t serious or weren’t certain
I am 5 years your junior, was this it
Unsure if I was too immature to commit
Or you had someone else keeping you warm
No way was I going to enter that storm
I wasn’t there to play game
I was your first choice not just a name
So I went silent for a month or two
Walking away from something so true
Two months of loneliness and pain
Being enveloped by the cold and rain
Depression grabbing and tugging from every angle
My head full of shame and mangle
As time passes the fog in the mind clears
I thought about her day after day shedding tears
Was my reasoning everything as it seems
Did I blow what could of been a dream
A text is what it took, an apology
Maybe it was meant to be, just biology
Two lost souls searching for destiny
Just sharing feelings no money
The truth finally came out about the excuses
A job, their disfunction, their abuses
The took adverse of her good nature
She didn’t realise she was far greater
They were due a legal inspection
They were negligent and needed protection
She worked all hours to save their skin
Put her life on hold so they could win
If only they treated with decency after that
Promoted then sent in to combat
Sexism and discrimination ran rampant
All they could offer was harassment
She finally decided to meet me one weekend
Both of us knew there was no need to pretend
It was love from the very beginning
Spent the weekend dating and grinning
Every second so precious and so much fun
We knew our real lives had begun
The weekend was soon over
Something we should go again moreover
The following weekend was when I was back
Realising I want to stay there and not pack
I feel deeply for my love
Knew that she was the one and needed a shove
One incident at work was all it took
For me to move in and and be on the hook
All it took was twenty one days
No need again to part ways
So to you my love
I will always put your wants and needs above
You and I are forever soulmates
And I will love and respect you, it was always fate
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.
Wrecked, but still,
The quiet eminence of distrust buries itself deep inside of each one of us,
Whispering hatred in foreign tongue,
Until it becomes loud enough,
Not for us to hear,
No,
But for us to forget,
To assume that the voices were always there,
And of course I’m not suggesting,
That perhaps there is something wrong with our government,
Because horrible masked men have always been in charge,
Right?,
And I’m no Anne Frank,
But Hell,
I think I’m alive,
And I still remember that ten year old me knew it was wrong to be a Nazi,
Or a communist,
Or a confederate,
But who am I kidding?,
Ten year old me was so foolishly naive,
Not to understand that perhaps,
These stories weren’t a fictional dystopia from a land far far away,
But a poison painted over the stakes that hold white men up upon the cross,
A secret society of, “Sic Semper Tyrannis!”
And each stripe and star isn’t a symbol of freedom,
Because freedom is a sick, twisted joke,
And I’ve grown tired of waiting for the punchline,
But perhaps we are the comedy,
Bred into a world that wears racism, sexism, and murder like precious jewels,
And I guess, what I’m trying to say,
Is I’m tired,
And people are dying,
Trying to survive,
Dying to try,
Trying to die,
But foolish, prideful,
Masked men need to feel alive,
And perhaps the only way,
Is to take a life,
And now I must ask,
When will it be mine?
LGBT and the loud minority
women want their rights
and the blacks equality
some do get upset
believe conspiracy
protests and petitions
all over my TV
thoughtless hypocrites
contradict consistently
religion sees its boundaries
shrink with every century
politicians lie
most empathetically
they all point at the white man
hindsight and history
and he must put it right now
he caused their misery
is it right to blame the white
if the white's a man like me
no cause I have to fight
which comes in unity
paraded in such light
our "superiority"
as white men take their life
they do it to be free
The weight placed on their shoulders
by each community
for acts they had no role in
the species history
He'll never be the victim
called racist cause sexism
yet white men made to listen
have help they need now missing
an isolated existence
in society's "accused" prison
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.
Poetry was her best lover
like no other
he loved her
without restraint
She could be herself
and explore,
discovering
secret pleasures and fantasies
Naked above the covers
he let her lie
exposed
as he slowly caressed her imagination
making her flow
with the sweet essence of her soul
In waves of delirium
flying free
he let her be
unfettered
unashamed
unworried of how to please
or how to tease
just simply to be
a woman in a prelude
to ecstacy
Poetry was her best lover
her escape from reality
in clandestine intimacy
he ravished her mind
again and again
for all he wanted
was for her to come
to experience
to taste
every pleasure
he had to offer
Her insatiable appetite
he fed
with firm truths
that burst forth wisdom
He fed her desire
to reach supremacy
He never betrayed
or delayed
in pleasing her
in giving her just what she wanted
in different ways and forms
his creativity, endless
Poetry was her best lover
the only time in her day
when she had her way
and could be free
to be the woman she was mean to be
sensual and sultry, sexy and savory
not having to hide
behind the guise
the veil of culture
or religion
or misconstrued sexism
or alibis
being demure
and “sterile”
when she was fertile
laden with passion
Poetry was her best lover
he adored her
for who she was
and he gave and gave
at times
leading her in submission to his will
taming her
training her
to live in the confines
of his rules
For perfection to be reached
she had to follow his lead
to the pinnacle of pleasure
where all was in rhythmic union and rhyme
the sublime
tasted and lived
then to descend
to warm after glow
basking in the satisfaction
of a fruitful union
for beauty has been conceived
waiting for delivery
a poem child
Yes, Poetry was her best lover
and she
came looking for him
begging him
to take her
again and again and again
to transport her to heaven from hell
to wet her lips with the taste
of eternity...
Poetry was her best lover
and she
had no need of another
to help her discover
her own entity….
None other
But her best lover
Poetry....
Eileen Manassian
This is a repost of a poem I wrote some time ago. I felt the urge to repost it. I'm passionate about poetry.
I Am A Fortress Now
I am covered in a pretty skin, not letting anyone else
hurt me, cowering, but acting big and bold,
like I think I am all that,
to push you away, so
you cannot do any more damage.
I am wearing my tinsel, and my
gold, to conceal the parts that have been
injured and killed by those who like to hurt feelings,
and especially go after the sensitive ones who cry.
My wall is brick, and my mortar is firm; you cannot
get me, because I have split into many selves, and they
are all standing guard at the gate, ready to clobber you
before you can chip even one slice away from our fortress.
We are mighty, not always in touch with each other, but
most having my back. The back you will never see, as
I do not trust you enough to turn while you are there.
You are ignorance, unkindness, racism, meanness, and sexism.
You successfully kept me in the dungeon, captive, helpless
once upon a time, but I am a fortress now; a we, not a mere me.
Take your best shot, but know that there are tiny missiles
pointed in your direction, and they will no longer take it
in a pretty way.
You will be the one slaughtered and crucified. No one
will come to resurrect you, because you have hurt too many.
One of my sisters believes I chose to be *****.
Did you remind her
you had no more choice about chasing guys
than she did?
Yes.
But her favorite televangelist
says I must be mistaken,
or just lying,
because who wouldn't choose to be hated
by all the hetero homophobes
like televangelists,
and evangelical radio heads,
right?
That makes no sense.
She can't really believe
you would choose to belong
to any repressed and humiliated minority,
especially during early onset of puberty,
when every girl and boy in any culture
is terrified of becoming different,
or special,
or weeded out of the clickety-clak pack.
Well, as she sees it,
she is in a LoseLose double-bind.
Either I chose to be *****, and am thereby demented,
or God graces all forms of WinWin sexual expression,
which would be contrary to her homophobic enculturation,
so it is easier to believe I am nuts
to choose perversely
than to consider herself nuts
not to choose more graciously,
especially with regard to God's creative capacity for love,
rather than simplistic judgments
which look and smell and sound like patriarchal sexism
more than radical compassion of God's healthy pleasure
of regenerative love among all gendered children,
red and yellow,
black and white,
gay and straight
and shades of grey transgendered,
each is precious in our polyamorous
Gaian Hypothesis sight.
What about your other sister?
Oh, she agrees.
With what, or whom?
She agrees we're all nuts.
Nuts
not to choose healthy love
over pathological hate
and fear
and anger
and greed,
craving to keep all the hot men
for one's own privileged clan.
socialism communism fascism despotism
buddhism catholicism hinduism zoroastrianism
territorialism colonialism imperialism expansionism
positivism relativism behaviorism existentialism
adventurism escapism negativism nihilism
puritanism fanaticism extremism terrorism
sexism chauvinism ultra-nationalism jingoism
hedonism epicureanism ~ stoicism asceticism
patriotism heroism altruism idealism
activism idealism individualism exceptionalism
atheism deism monotheism paganism
optimism pessimism cynicism romanticism
atheism secularism humanism utopianism
hypnotism mysticism exorcism surrealism
~ and what if there were a schism in each and every 'ism!'