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Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
.https://tinyurl.com/yd8kxt9s: and this was at a time when i actually cared what girls thought... as any chubby kid prior to the age mid 16... cared so much... like any boy... then the backfire... so i thought: well... i know of a girl that won't back down, Sophia... and she certainly didn't teach me to regurgitate logic like a sophist might... new experience... and? ever since? so date with Jack was ever the same... i really used to care what girls thought... but... eh... these days? i care whether the bottom of the bottle looks like a telescope, or a mirage of a kaleidoscope... guess all the shame went out the window... selfish... selfish... hmm... then i guess all the monks are paying dues for that kind of existential hostage heist of - otherwise unwanted enlarged *****-loads of heart, mind, hope... my kind of poker... but thank god i don't that the sort of egoism of a ***** donor, like i'm some prime material for cloning... phew!

i listen to these commentary videos on politics,
and then... i reach a saturation
point... oi! Joe! Joe! where you goin'?
to the jazz club? me come with...
   i've had enough... i get enough news
when i visit my grandparents with my
grandmother watching more
news than her age-restricted bracket
of Mexican or Turkish telenovelas...
does my nuts in!
   i'd rather watch a ******* telenovela
than the corporate news...
at least i'd be watching someone akin
to tuba büyüküstün
   (**** me, they went wild on
the diacritical marks there... didn't
they? do they match up to
the scalpel of syllables within the word?) -
hey! granny! put that **** back on,
she's showing a healthy cut of
thighs and the upper legs,
cut, right, above the knee!
    i too miss the internet...
like it was... in 2007 through to
2000 &... 17?
      well sure as **** no **** Sherlock
it wasn't 2016...
           i appreciate the work
of the counter-media...
   but after a while...
  i get bloated...
   too much information...
       and nothing of the sort i can
speak to people about within
or outside age bracket within this
restricted space...
   so i fill up the tank, realizing
it all ends with: oh, right...
the same ******* tomorrow?
    and then i desperately try to find new
music... musing over a sudoku puzzle...
taking another painkiller swig of
bourbon saying to myself:
isn't this, just the most bountiful night
filled with the oddest beauties
encapsulated most by the shadow
on the face of the moon?
      as ever, my number one motto:
stay low, steer the undercurrent -
         seek no exposure...
               enjoy the drinking,
but esp. enjoy the music...
                     but **** me...
   i miss 2004... or was it 2005?
whichever year it was...
i remember having a race with this
guy on a Tour de France type of bike...
and i was mulling this thick-tier
mountain bike from
Bałtów to Ostrowiec Św. -
   but i still remember my 50+km leisure
route...
   there are only two ways to lose
weight without having problems
of excess skin hanging like punctured
fat balloons...
  cycling... or swimming...
   nope... you go to the gym to lose
that weight? you'll be in need of
plastic surgery...
              **** the diet...
coffee is not coffee if you don't drink it
with either full-fat milk or cream...
i've seen what a coffee with skimmed
milk looks like...
looked at a receptionist's cuppa in
the local g.p. surgery...
  diluted mud-water...
                 same argument with low
fat yogurt: instant diabetes -
you, need, fat...
                    you can't fake fat with
excess sugars...
  plus... the texture?
        orangutan snot probably tastes
better...
      no... gym is a bad idea
for losing weight...
had a "friend" (fwend) who thought
it was worthwhile...
guess now he can test what
a tattoo looks like in old age...
   skin as elastic as a ******* parachute...
running? bad for the knees...
plus? 50+km on a bike?
think of the scenery!
                 - and you require but only
afternoon session when the heat's off...
roughly 2 hours...
sure... after the weight is gone...
**** that gym membership...
   but?
           not prior...
              you lose weight by concentrating
on a calorie equilibrium
with either your legs...
or your torso...
but let's face it...
i didn't swim much...
   so basically your legs... on a bicycle...
what was that route i loved so much...
ah...
the 754...
       through various names country
roads... heading back on Iłżecka
  (a road's name borrowed from
the town of Iłża - en route to Warsaw -
a medieval road -
now passed on route no. 9) -
more fun than pretending to
be a tourist in central London...
  bicycle... late afternoon...
the road...
                 and the endless
fried pine patches of forest...
there's nothing about home as
the perfumes of the land...
however grotesque -
which does include farm animal
manure...
  but **** me...
   Paris perfumeries can hide,
shy... from their poignant scents...
farm animal manure
and hay...
   but later afternoon pine...
and the wheat fields...
and the grass...
               come to think of it...
i never realized that i cycled into
a completely different county...
           like me going from Essex
through to Kent...
               fun as ****...
plus i sometimes stopped at this
old woman's hut...
           and bought some goat's milk.
Lanox  Jul 2015
I Am the Asterisk
Lanox Jul 2015
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

I have a friend, a transgender woman.
Let’s call her Miss Portugal.
She looks more womanly than me, acts more appropriate to our gender.
Every time we walk together, people would look at her first.
She was more attractive.
I would be thinking, “I wonder if they know she is not a real woman.”

Yes, yes, this poem will be about acts or thoughts of discrimination.
Those coming from me.

We were once invited to a small party, I got there first, and men asked about her.
I answered them matter-of-factly, of where she was and that she would join us shortly.
But I was waiting for the punch line.
As though not believing that they could be interested in meeting her, for real,
knowing that she also has . . . you know.
What they have.

She had a long-time boyfriend she met back in college.
They are not together anymore, but they were together for many years,
since they were freshmen ’til they already had jobs after graduation.
He was as straight as any of my male friends could be,
part of the gang,
with as many antics and tricks up his sleeve as your average kolehiYOLO.
But it was love at first sight for him.
At the common bathroom of their boys' dorm.
He was confused as to why a girl was there.
They became one of those distinguishable couples around campus.
He could be seen riding his bike around school while she sat at the backseat.
Their love story is one I like to tell when I am at a certain level of intoxication and with a certain kind of company.
I would tell it with so much flair, you’d think it was one out of a romantic Korean telenovela.
It was that hard for me to believe that I was a firsthand witness to a real-life gay love story.

I have another friend, a transgender man.
Let’s call him Buttercup.
He is a writer, a brilliant one.
When the friendship was still new, when I had just found out he wrote, after reading some of his works,
there was that familiar envy,
if not for the words he got to first,
then the dark but rich experiences I may never have.
I found myself consoling my half-inspired, half-humbled ego
with the fact that he had more suffering.
As though I knew that just by simply being so,
he was already at a disadvantage by default.

He used to be overweight.
I used to think the, well, heavy transgender men I see intentionally gained weight to lose their curves.
Then BC decided to go on a diet.
I was confused for a moment.
Then finally science came to rescue my logic back and reminded me about the heart stuff.
How dumb of me to have been more concerned of how people like him should appear that I could easily have overlooked my friend’s need to have a healthier lifestyle.
Then his no-rice diet worked.
He began to look better.
I think he felt even better.
There was the envy again.
But I was too lazy to follow his advice,
to follow suit,
so I, again, consoled myself with the thought that he was not considered a woman anyway.
Women become envious when other women lose weight only when they’re straight.
Even beautiful lesbians aren’t a real source of insecurities.
You could be dating the likes of Brandon Boyd, they’d not be able to care less.
Although it is possible the same cannot be said of your boyfriend regarding your two beautiful lesbian friends.

BC had a girlfriend, who was also a friend, still is.
There was a time when we shared a flat.
One time, my Christian preacher of a mother visited.
I introduced BC and his girlfriend as cousins.
I wasn’t ashamed of them.
I just wanted to spare myself from a barrage of questions my mother would have surely aimed at me had I told the truth.
Here I was, perhaps the most open-minded friend they have,
yet just to avoid an uncomfortable conversation,
I was able to easily shove their identities into hiding from the very people closest to me.
I did both sides a form of disrespect.

If I were to draw conclusions, I would begin with,
So shallow people give shallow judgments.
Therefore it would seem the depths I’ve tried to dive into through these years of “freethinking” instead only caused my own prejudice to sink deeper.
Only to become more difficult to recognize.
And here I was trying to “educate” this particular sort of people spewing off ignorant nonsense when I myself am still lacking,
although not in tolerance,
as most of us now are so quick to use as a defense that our treatment of the lesbians, gays, bisexuals, transexuals, transgenders, transvestites, queers, the questioning, the intersexual, the pansexual, the asexual is satisfactory,
but certainly in the acceptance that what they are are, what you are,
is as natural as what I am,
what we are.

LGBTTTQQIPAS
Ignatius Hosiana Jun 2016
When the sour rains come, you'll remember the shelter in my heart
yet when the hot sun shines, you'll recall the shed in my soul
When the road is endless, you'll remember your miles I walked
in the silent night, you'll miss the moments we talked
When the creepy rhythm of the night starts to scare
You'll recall the moments I was right there
and when the brightly burning moon and the stars light the cold night
You'll crave a walk through the illumination but fright
Won't let you risk venturing into the enchanting warm rays
You'll miss our romantic walks during the good old days.
When the storms come with their fatal thunderbolts
You'll make for the safety under your adrenaline vaults
You'll wish I was by your chilly desolate bedside
presenting my masculine chest for your innocence to hide
You'll miss the magical touch of my wet lips
Whilst your heartbreaks and blood red emotion drips
When flowers in your tended gardens bloom they'll but fruit gloom
For their sweet scent will reconstruct my presence in the empty room
When my favourite classics and RnBs play on the radio
You'll remember dancing to some of them during our cardio
And when the telenovela we watched together
Comes on you'll wish you'd never said never
you'll want me to come home, you'll miss my golden smile,
look through the pane in pain hoping I'll appear along the isle
our memories will be the gravity pulling you to remorse
tears'll spring from costly decisions you'll want to reverse
you'll throw pillows and gnaw your teeth while missing us
when all you're throwing away will return like an ancestral curse
You'll try to find us in liquor but we won't be under those bottles
no amount of ***** will manage to drown the pain within
you'll let so many other lads into your knickers but that too won't pay
sleep under showers, even that won't wash the mire of where you've been
and then you'll dial my number and I'll anxiously pick up
only to listen to silence on the other end for you'll lack what to say
I'll try to get the words out of you but sobbing you'll hung up
And being the one for you, the one destiny charmed like a hub
I'll run out the door and jump into a nearby cab
to come and welcome the prodigal back to my heart
for I know there's no life when we're even just a second apart
in about an hour I'll be by your door, a happy soul under teary eyes
knocking with a big box full of pardon before you apologise
that's how much I love you... even if you doubt I deserve you
and when the time comes, you'll realise my passion is true
unknown  Jan 2016
cant
unknown Jan 2016
we cant be.
we cant be
because i cant be
its just me
dont u know that every time we're together i get nervous
because....
because.
you see i can never really articulate what i feel about you
i feel like what we have isnt real
i can never be my real self when im with you
i guess its cuz i never feel enough
we will not be the greatest story
or that sappy romcom telenovela with better looking actors playing our lives
but we will be a great lesson
to those who have felt like they werent enough for that certain someone
because they've been rejected a couple of times
hold your chin up.
its hard i know
to feel like you will never be enough
im still trying myself
the climb is hard and im gonna fall a couple of times
but its okay
i let you ruin me
i let your words that stung my heart coarse through the veins of my body and ruin every part of my being
im a mess now
and whos the bigger blame?
is it you
or is it me
doesnt really matter because
we cant be.
we cant be
because i cant be
Ignatius Hosiana Mar 2016
Last night was hard for everyone, for all of us
The moon noticed your obvious absence and lit bright trying to trace you from every corner of  the universe
the stars were sad and they tried so hard to blink back their tears
even the nimbus clouds detected the heartbreaking melancholy
and tried to blanket them from the chilling cold of solitude
but the twinkling stars still struggled to peep through
the blanket cast between them and your absence
like little children afraid of the dark until the clouds gave up
for even they ,no matter how strong they pretended to be
the weight of despondence got the better of them
and they subsequently expressed their pain in burdened tears of rain
the roof tried to hold the tears from my unconscious sight
but my ears sadly caught the pattering sobs
darkness whispered some advise but my ears were too sad to hear
and my brain numbed by the scintillating thoughts about you
I tried to kick out the emptiness through listening to the radio
but my fingers were too frozen and weak to turn the ****
so I gave up and just sat quietly inside the net listening to a silence
whose eloquence was labyrinthine and discombobulating
because weaved within mosquitoes did their best to sing me a lullaby
but in anger I violently swatted as many and as many did die
it still was hell hot with my limpid Heart ice cold
yet I still hoped against all odds you would appear
I waited for you like Santa waiting for Christmas,
like anxious Jews waiting for the coming Messiah,
like the Mediterranean sea patiently waits for waters of the Nile,
like a Groom waits for his Bride as she walks across the isle,
I waited for you like a lass waiting for a Telenovela...
or a staunch catholic waiting for a positive eventuality to his Novena,
I waited like the minute hand waits for the second hand of the clock
like the dull pulse of the heart waits to happen after the loud one...
I waited for you like an insomniac waiting for sleep,
sadly sleep never came... so I gave up to wait for the next day
like the invisible sun through a night knowing in the dawn my voice
might reach you like beautiful rays and whisper
to the far that is near how I wish you were here
in a message right into your small pretty ears
I missed you like a baby misses its mother,desperately and in tears
unnamed  May 2019
Pretty
unnamed May 2019
Ever since I was a little girl, I had always wanted to be pretty. To be a beautiful princess, a tall and irresistible super model, the gorgeous actress of a telenovela, or the weather girl that always looks fantastic, even though that's not really the purpose of her job.
Laughing, dreaming, and playing silly games. All that to grow up in a society where they DEMAND YOU to be pretty because if you aren't, you'll never be good enough. In a society where you are judged by your looks and not by your skills, where you are treated as a ****** object.
I didn't mean that when I said I wanted to be pretty!
Being catcalled, sexually and psychologically  harassed, **** attempts... and the list continues.
Everytime, going out with fear, dressing as covered as possible, crossing to the other side of the street and being forced to be extremely prejudiced with people, because you never know if you are going to be the next victim.
I DON'T WANNA BE PRETTY ANYMORE.
I wanna be smart, capable, kind, loving, respectful, honest, funny, creative, generous, strong, loyal, determined, humble...
But above all, I wanna be
RESPECTED FOR WHO I AM.
I'm not a poet or a writer. Just a really tired person. Sorry if I ****.
Cailey Duluoz Oct 2010
Trying to get through
This endless pile of papers,
I brew another *** of coffee,
Smoke another cigarette,
Think I might be dying (for good measure)
And close the door.

But all I can think about is you
Out there on the sofa
Under the yellow-and-white afghan
Shooting up and watching that old telenovela

So I give up.
And I grab us a couple of PBRs
And we lay there together,
Talking about your metaphysical journey.
I say something funny
And you go all red
And you hit me so hard
The wind all comes out of my chest.

I'm upstairs on the bed
Crying
And there's eyeliner down past my cheekbones.

And you come in
And you kiss my forehead
And I close my eyes
And I give in.

Waking up with your arm slung over my back
Incense on the table burning down to nothing
Like the remnants of my life,
I can't remember what made me love you.
- From Terms of Endearment
dlx Aug 2016
You can blame Love for what it did to you,
You can shame Love whatever you like,
You can hate it, or crush it, or just end up worthless because of Love.
But just remember that Love can't be wrong,
Love never hurt you back or slam your mouth when you ditch it,
Love just keep pursuing you by it's kindness and pureness blood,
There's no plan to fight you,
If Love did something wrong with you, or hurt you instead of making you happy, or doing unfair with you.
Just remember, that Love always right,
If Love did it wrong, it comes to you back,
What've you been with Love?
You feel empty, full of dullness, or useless,
That's okay it's Love..
Love isn't like what you see on tv, you would expect such as romance, or pathetic as telenovela
Just remember,
It's okay that's Love.

- dlx
victorine b  Aug 2018
Untitled
victorine b Aug 2018
"the end"
a phrase often used at the end
of a story, a movie, a telenovela, a book
i have always hated those words since I was little
to me, it meant that I had come to the end of something.
usually something I had enjoyed.
that there was nothing to look forward to after those two simple words were written or shown on the screen.
i hate that phrase.

— The End —