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plat Nov 2018
Hey you
Mr. Beelzebub
Only the buzzing keeping you company
Don't give up
Because no one understands you
But come along with me
And show them whats wrong with me
Hey you
Mr. Yahweh
Your cries will not be heard tonight
For today
The fallen have given up their plight

Look inside you
No one understands you
But I do
Today is the day that mountains fall
Forever in the history books we will be
Pick up the phone and answer your call
So come along and show them whats wrong with me
This is not anti-God, or pro-Satan, but quite the opposite really, it's about the ones who are oppressed and fallen, and made to be fake demons, going against the ones who in arrogance and ignorance make themselves think they're a god in the world. Thank you for sharing you time with me I hope you enjoyed and got something from this poem.
Nicole Oct 2018
As I picture myself in the future
Through years of HRT
Small glimmers of excitement
Reflect off the walls of my heart
I rarely feel excitement these days
So this instance is important
I picture ****** hair and muscles
A deepened voice ands flat chest
The physical changes excite me
It's the social ones that scare me
I cannot imagine having male privilege
I cannot imagine not feeling objectified
I cannot imagine being read as a man
I was raised in a position of oppression
I am constantly stared at and made into
Nothing more than the prospect of my genitals
And yet,
One day,
It will no longer be that way
I'll just look like a basic white boy
And they'll have no idea
Except that I will not stay silent
I will not hide in the shadows
I am transmasculine and nonbinary
And I refuse to remain invisible
Slam dunk crash
Loud sound, a thunder dome
Intense clapping; it's time
Michael Jordan, save us.

Janus, my ****
In my pants oopsies
Micheal Jordan, slams and dunks.
Rude-awakened, bare, I plunged
the mine for errors—yelled revisions
up the shaft, felt echoes drift.
Stifled gold-myths for anchors: pig-iron
chained to answers. Asked "which way?"
and felt novel paths fade to gray,
gut-checked at gates Now Boarding,
urgency-alive, departure day.  

For-Shame walks hard his two-block beat:
the love against his feet, the bleach
behind his eyes. The toll is lucid blood:
much thinner, quick-twitch coded,
primed to run. Canaries, fathoms down,
sing longing to the mask
that votes for trade—sweeps laurel off
the heads of state, befouls the learners'
****-grounds. What truth might Satan

still confound? Denounced and parceled,
grifters spend our last resort
up paper-trails that track too short—
force every sense through that
accursed mask.
To breathe, perchance, to ask.
Ronin Sep 2018
Crawling through this chaos in my mind with my plan
No one to confide in with my heart in my hand
I've been deadened by my pain
Have no more lessons for my brain
My time and life is counting down
Whilst I'm sat in this waiting game
Done with looping round in circles, in games for me to lose
Time to straighten to my purpose, to spring from this noose
A lousy pen as my firearm
As if the ink will create a spark
I've heard and seen the future that's written on my palms
And good god with all my heart, I will not stand by it
I think you're misinformed
I don't care if you're psychic
I refuse to serve that storm
I'll rewrite what can not be unwritten
Escape the cobra's clutch alive despite being bitten
Concuct an antidote from the venom of this prison
No matter how long I do my time, grappling on decisions
I forbid this captive's life to be lead by submission
Wack I know :P Would like to start writing and get better at poetry but have little idea of how to or where to start
Sarah Sep 2018
My sweet boy
I recall your first step
First word
Your Smiles and cries
The excitement in which you viewed a fly
Such a precious little thing you were
And now you're dead
Laid on a pavement, shot in the head
Eyes wide open, staring at the sky
Perhaps for one last time, you're searching for that fly.
Roseanna Aug 2018
Angels are withered,
Battered, like you.
Thrown to the dogs of society
Wings ripped anew.

Humans are punished
loved by few
Thrown to the dogs of society
Heads fixed askew.

Demons are tired
Spat out and chewed
Thrown to the dogs of society
Welcomed as crew.


Not meant to be political,
Except maybe a bit,
We are all  just people
And life is tough ****.
Trying out something new and risky! lets see the reaction.
Still a bitter poem, apparently that's my style?
I promise i'm ok,
Kinda.
MicMag Aug 2018
Oppressing the people
Deaf to their cries
STOP! SLOW DOWN!
GIVE US MORE!

Time marches on
As indifferent to what
Lies ahead
As what came before
Time rules us all
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