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there is an American billionaire
who looks quite flamboyant and debonnaire
he was leading the race
for Republicans’ ace
and ******* his competitors everywhere
Re-discovered that one ....
Andrew Parker Nov 2017
Written on 11/20/2017

That awkward moment when someone flirts with you on a dating app and says "I like that you look masculine."

You see,
I never saw masculinity as a part of me.

My identity was always flamboyant,
wearing pink shirts and sashes,
crop tops with styling gelled eyelashes,
sparkling headbands and dazzling bandannas,
snapback hats featuring giant bananas,
I dressed with the raging flamboyance of flamingos!
Sporting a certain type of femininity that only a gay man knows.

All the trimming and cutting, and shaving and nairing,
for hours,
as time and body hair intertwined in the showers,
washed masculinity off my body down the drain,
Experienced electrolysis burns, but the pain
had infected my thoughts,
like each hair is unnatural.  

Purge it all,
Scorch and torch it all,
Leave nothing at all!
No trace
of evolution's flawed attempt to grace
me with an adaptive advantage to take on the world's harsh climate.  
I admit,
this hair entangles me and strangles me,
it also oozes out of me like pimples from a pore,
a ***** to testosterone,
poor me - a victim of nature's masculinity.
What a hairy situation I've gotten myself in.


Its bestowed upon me by society.
When I sashay or say hey gurl hey,
society recognizes these things as girly and gay,
not a very masculine way to walk or talk.  

Stereotypes about *** and gender are so easily manipulated.
Like a circus performer on the tight rope,
the suspense keeps people wondering where will I fall?

But hold me under a microscope and you will see it all,
a million molecules that makeup my femininity.
I wear skinny jeans and tank tops,
then get complimented on them by dude bros,
like yo that's tight- where'd you get it boss?

I bought it in the girl's section at Ross.

My toe nails painted and displayed for public view,
flip flops emboldened with matching turquoise hues,
Femininity is worn on me like a fabulous armor plate.


Fast forward to a fateful date during No-Shave November.
I remember,
growing out my ****** hair for the very first time,
I wore it like a mask,
portraying a fictional character who was masc-uline.
Bathing in manliness at this masquerade.
It was through this charade,
that I grew
... temporary happiness for me from all of you.

The compliments they poured in.
My once smooth canvas of a face,
waiting to be crafted into the Mona Lisa,
had been turned into an artistic masterpiece,
'Gay Man with Amnesia',
of who he used to be.
A painting of someone society wanted,
someone whose masculinity was outwardly flaunted.
But inside, I felt taunted,
each time they complimented
me and my newfound masculinity.


Then, it happened on Grindr,
a gay dating app.
This masculine mishap.

A stranger's message read, "I like that you look masculine."
It sounded even stranger in my head.
Their profile description read,

"Masc 4 Masc
Masculine man seeking other masculine men to hangout with."

That's when I felt it.
My mask had made me masc.

This particularly manic morning brought me to ask
myself in the bathroom mirror,
"Who the hell am I looking at?"

In sheer terror, I teared-up,
scanned the portrait of 'Gay Man with Amnesia',
and then decided to tear it up!

I grabbed my electric razor,
grum grum grummm
as these blades grazed my face and chin,
I was offered sweet, soft, porcelain skin - my absolution.


heh heh
When I came to and snapped out of the amnesia,
eager to see results of this restorative procedure,
the mirror was fogged with steam and slop.

I tried logging in to my laptop's webcam,  
for naught.  
The ****** recognition feature -- didn't recognize me
... but finally, I did.

Once again, I see the man behind the masc-ulinity.
Harry Roberts Oct 2017
Stuck in cages,
Clicking like
On multiple pages.
Falling into
Endless rages.

Yeah the worlds ****** and
You dance with it
In the rhythm and you can't forget it.
You could never regret it.
You found a pearl in the dark

A spark in the stars
A Lark, long claws
And I'm up early
Take to the sky, sparkling and

Flamboyant, I float
I've always been girly.
Empty seas a space to sink,
Water surrounds but not a drip
To drink.

But I think,
I feel through the
Folds destined to kink
And I stop and rethink
Dissolve and think pink.
What's more pure
Than something that lacks to be whole.

Neither white
Nor red
But I bleed the same
A game and it ends,
It's all a shame.

Earth - Yes the end
It's all the same,
To the Roost
The Rooster then
The Roosters came.

Blood and mud
Made me whole,
A stud and studs
Stained my soul.
Written after a night shift and a couple of hours listening to Khia
Kriti Mishra May 2017
Wrap me in teals, corals and turquoise of the oceans,
Envelop me in veils of azure,
Drape me in verdant hues of the forest,
Swathe me in the crimson of sunsets,
Embroider my robes with fuchsia, amber and plum,
Hide twinkling diamonds in the folds to play hide-and-seek like stars on a cloudy night,
Nestle amidst my tumbled chestnut, bronze hair,
Emeralds, sapphires, amethysts and pearls,
Woven together with gossamer threads of cool silver and sun-drenched gold,
Tuck away violets, jasmines and orange blossoms into my crown,
Cocooned in their sweet fragrance,
Cloaked in Nature's splendor,
Leave me in solitude,
Where the skies embrace the seas,
Away from the rusty hues of blood and steel,
From ash, charcoal and misery,
From drab taupes, dingy olives and mousy browns of normalcy,
Let me revel in jewel tones,
Colors as flamboyant as me.

— The End —