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Anya Sep 2018
Just a color
Is it really?

In preschool it was fine
I liked what I liked
No one cared

In elementary school
It became
Yet, ironically
This made most of the girls
Like me
Stay away from it

And instead,
It became cool for a guy
To like it

In highschool
Girls don’t care
Guys don’t care
People like what they want

Is that really how it is?

Somewhere, under the surface
Amongst sparkly pink nails
And dresses

It’s not a color anymore
But a symbol
Andrew Jul 2018
There's a contentious subsection
Of the homosexual community
That go in a different direction
Hoping to find social immunity
The word masculine
Is the mask they're in
To live life saccharine
Wearing a plastic grin
From the sensation
Of over-compensation
Actuating placation
To differentiate
From the effeminate
They say they're separate
But really they're just desperate
To be accepted
By their own dejectors
To not be rejected
They become defectors

To avoid ridicule
They stack their deck with nothing but physicality
Their mind minuscule
The albatross on their neck is a lack of personality
To please those that compare them to *******
Internalizing their homophobia
An infernal mighty cornucopia
Creating an over abundance of rules
One must follow to be a proper male
But we should jump out of the pool
If being miserable is what that entails

The more genuine version we see
The happier we all should be
Then we might all be free
But if I were to show glee
Someone might call me a ******
And I don't think I could hack it
When the rest of society backs it
With an approval that is tacit
So I convince myself I'm avoiding identity politics
Using total discretion
To make no impression
But my friends and family would know that's not what I'm doing
So why not tell them?
I haw and I hem
Because the underlying ghostly shame
Is the true nature of this social game
When you have the fame of the flame
You're told to get in a lane of the same

Erase my ******* sin
With the title masculine
There are practical reasons to hide it
But how much time will be bided?
Will my life be derided
Until the evil are delighted?
nish Jul 2018
character development is truly amazing
every point of view, is constantly changing
and i have this habit; immensely annoying
of falling in love, with love

suddenly, i notice what she doesn't see (yet)
together we ridiculed him
too short, not my type
i've know him my whole life!
but suddenly
his shoulders; are they broader?
and that voice, its much deeper
stance gotten wider, masculine
more attractive.

this is unquestionably unacceptable
emotional whiplash
how did his eyes get more golden
its just how the sun hits them
we never saw it like this before
a whole new perspective
this isn't healthy

he's defensive, possessive
hard headed and difficult
he looks at her differently
how does she not see it?
how did i not see it??
its more tender and caring
dare i say loving

character development
the bane of my existence.
just a silly poem about how much I love shipping characters. This was inspired by my re-watching of "Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood". The scene where Winry and Ed are arguing in her room. Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading :)
Prakhar Khare Jan 2018
Why would I discuss ****
If Masculine **** is fine
Society don't give it a shape
Mental design get in line

I know this phenomenon
Coz it happened to me
Well now it's a foregon
It wasn't simple as it feel

A girl molested a boy
But boy appeared as pervert
It was like battle of Troy
In which boy was compared with dirt

He can't have a police complain
He can't have any trial
The law doesn't recognise it
Oh dead fish stuck in brail

Police arrested that boy
Subjecting crimes that are not done
Girl acquired fake support from
Feminist people in a bun

This was the end
Of a Real Story
Unknown cases and
Candle march glory..
Dani Dec 2017
Not quite white
Not quite latino
Not quite anything

Too dark to be white
Too light to be latino
Too mixed to be anything

Not quite that language
Not quite that accent
Not quite anything

Too feminine for this
Too masculine for that
Too mixed to be anything

Not quite this thing
Not quite that thing
Not quite anything
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 *** 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 ***,
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,
'*** 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 *** 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 '*** 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.
K Balachandran Apr 2017
You are cyclic like
the change of seasons
in your reinvention;
robust is your passion,
a mountain brook
that embraces hills
plains, fields and ravines
without any restriction.

Instantly you would imbibe
any message, air, wind or water
sends through flashes of intimations,
nature's child you are, a woman
in sync with the moon in your veins
and the sun that seeks you from my *****.

I only follow the music your heart strings play
that in my psyche resonates, every moment,
it makes easy navigation in this planet my right.

You and I  move through the waves rowing
shoulder to shoulder, singing spiritedly barcaroles.
The feminine in me is under your tender care,
I let my masculine self be in communion with yours,
all merging in harmoniously, resulting in  only ONE.
To the Half man-half woman  in you, with love..
DannyBoyJ Feb 2016
Smoky air, fedora and billboards,
testosterone-fuelled dreams.
the purest of all male forms in its finest
yet darkest days.
Who run the world? Men.
The sweat pouring off of the masculine brow
that controls what we are prohibited.
The lights of Morris Minors flooding the
The watchful eye that sits upon the ashes.
They’re in charge. Them, and only them.
A red right-hand to those anti-them.
They will tear you apart
if you decide against pledging allegiance.
Or you’ll end up in the sand.
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