"bisexuality" poems
If you are a girl and you are bisexual,
you're really just a ****
If you are a boy and you are bisexual,
you're really just gay.
Bisexuality isn't a real thing,
it's a phase. You're confused.
All girls are secretly bi.
You're just more honest about it.
Bisexuals like everyone,
they don't know how to have real relationships.
Bisexuals are looking for attention,
They're dramatic,
They're confused,
They're *****
Idiots
Sinners
Immature.
Wrong.
Bisexuals are people.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 12:01 AM UTC
Slipping stocking on silky smooth legs.
Wanting and yearning to turn people's heads.
Dressing up nice in a posh frock.
Knowing people will judge, people will mock.
Applying makeup like a pro,
But needing to keep the status quo.
Styling a wig to look like a girl.
Feeling the butterflies, head in a whirl.
Looking deep at the eyes reflected in the mirror.
Where is the man? can just see a glimmer.
Feeling for a moment that he does belong.
Takes a deep breath, tries to stay strong.
Feeling comfortable within his own skin.
Just slightly visible, hair growth on his chin.
He will not venture out as he's branded a freak.
But really he's normal, maybe a bit weak.
For if he goes out people think he is guy.
He's just like me and you at the end of the day.
Some think he's bisexuality, it's really unfair.
He's just heterosexual with a little more flare.
All he's ever wanted, is to be accepted.
In this current decade still is rejected.
If you gave him a chance you'd see he's real nice.
His heart is so warm, not cold as ice.
He loves with his heart, is caring and tender.
Look deep within, he is only transgender.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 5:21 PM UTC
Whatever happened to bisexuality? You either choose one or the other. Well, **** you. I exist. Feminicity and masculinity are partners in crime. I guess I'm two in one. I'm not better than you, but I'm sure better than most. In the end though, I love you. Even if the hate builds up, I ******* love you.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 3:33 AM UTC
it took me years
for me to face my fears
to realize that it is okay
to be bisexual
it took you a second
to spit out words of blame
now all I hear is,
the ringing of "wrong"
and the beat of "stupid"
a string of sharp knives
come right at my heart
I'm starting to cry
and ask myself why
is it so wrong to be me?
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
bleached
beneath
a 10 kilowatt
moon
anticipating
geometry
the smell
of soap
that same
instant
calling into
question
bisexuality
without flesh
or
the vibration
of blood
10.7k
As a bisexual, I fear
Few will want you to be proud.
They will bend your ear
Saying things to you out loud
That would be better left
Totally, embarrassingly unsaid
Instead of rattling around
Inside the cathedral of your head.
Too many try to make it
Seem like a kind of venal crime
To want to make love with
Someone of your own kind
And maybe with the same
Gender with which you were born.
To some it is very biblical
And subjects you to public scorn.
Finding someone ****
With the same plumbing as you
It not only delightful
It can be a dream come true.
It feels correctly natural
And works like the other way
Even though people scorn
And use words like *** and ‘gay’
Or ****** and even taco
Whatever that might end up meaning.
The important thing to me
Bisexuality is so powerfully appealing.
So, those who dislike me
And feel so righteously zealous
That bisexuality is wrong
Are very possibly just jealous.
Or maybe just uptight
Living by someone’s else’s rules;
Not what they’ve learned
And therefore are bigoted fools.
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 10:57 PM UTC
No place for me at my house.
Yelling, expectations and failures take what should be mine.
I will never be good enough
And so I have been pushed to the side.
No place for me in your heart.
I ripped open my chest for you to see mine beating rhythmically,
And you pushed me away.
I have had to pack my bags and look elsewhere.
No place for me in my mind.
Thoughts of who I have become make me want to crumble.
I cannot think about myself for too long,
Or I will not survive.
I have a tiny one-room apartment in hope for the future.
No place for me in my church.
I have hidden my bisexuality from them,
Because it is not exactly smiled upon
In the conservative community.
No place for me in my town.
All these ******* look the same
With their money and clothes
And the fact that they couldn't care less.
And do not get me started on their Republican morals.
Will their be a place for me?
In the ripples and folds of time?
Can I ever find a place where I can stay for a while
And be accepted?
I guess that's why they build hotels.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
Today, in Bisexuality-"Pick a sided!"
Why should we? We have the right to-
"Shut up!"
BLOCKED
Today, in Bisexuality-"Men can't be Bisexual!"
Yes, they can be, and-
****
BLOCKED
Today, in Bisexuality- "Top 17 List of Gay Celebs!"
Bisexual Celebs have been listed as gay or lesbian. If you could, please-
"We said what we said!"
BLOCKED
Today, in Bisexuality- **** gay marriage! You, people, are gross!"
Then, avert your eyes. And, it's called same-sex marriage for a reason. I'm Bisexual and when you don't acknowledge that you erase-
**** you!"
BLOCKED
Today, in Bisexuality- "Y'all say Y'all like girls, but always marry men. It's so stupid!"
Did you ever stop to think it's because Queer women isolate and shun us? Did you ever stop to think most of us are fearful of coming out because we have to deal with Biphobia and always defending-
**** you *****
BLOCKED
Today, in Bisexuality- "Bisexuality isn't real!"
But, but, but, it's called LGBTQ because the B stands for-
"You are just confused and experimenting!"
But, I'm the B in LGBTQ and-
"Go **** yourself!"
BLOCKED
UNPLUG. RECHARGE. RESET.
I feel the cold. I'm forced in the void.
We don't have a voice. We are being destroyed.
Abused. Battered. Shunned. Lost.
You ignore our needs, and our lives are the cost.
No funding. No help. No representation.
We are the ******* children of a silent nation.
We ask for help and organizations wait for our week.
We aren't asking for much. It's Visibility we seek.
Using your voice is free. Make noise on your platform every day and night.
We aren't going away. For Visibility, we fight!
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 2:05 AM UTC
Purple has always been my favorite color.
Mixed with Red, the color of passion,
And Blue, the color of dreams.
Ever since I was a child, I’ve loved purple.
“Dark purple” I would add, “With sparkles”
I had to specify, and toss in a cute giggle.
I was so young then. So innocent and naïve
I didn’t know that purple could symbolize something
Something like peoples’ rights.
That was back in the days when “gay” was just a word
Often appearing in Christmas songs
I always knew it to mean, “happy.”
So, when I heard that two men were gay
I was happy, because that must mean that
They’re happy.
When I got older, I learned that happy as those men may be
Others weren’t happy for them.
People weren’t happy that these men were gay.
I never saw anything wrong with it.
I was not gay, but I was supportive.
I didn’t care what other people liked.
Then the term, “bisexual” came up
And that blew my mind.
People could like men and women?
No! I was straight! Of course I was.
I didn’t like women, but I didn’t care if you did
I liked men. That was that.
And then there came the fatal attraction
Nearing me towards bisexuality,
And I embraced it.
All of the sudden, I liked men and women.
Without even realizing that it was in me,
I realized I liked them.
My mother was shocked, but supportive.
My father was the same.
My brother still doesn’t know.
My friends were all excited for me.
Some were confused.
Even a year after realizing it, some couldn’t tell.
Some thought I was joking. Some still do.
But nope, I was not.
I was bisexual.
I grew up Catholic, and I knew
That God loved all his children,
And every creature great and small.
And I believe this;
If God made me, wouldn’t he want me to be happy
With whoever I want?
If Heaven is that cold,
Then maybe I want to be cradled
In the warm fires of Hell.
If God is our father
Satan is our Uncle
Our gay uncle apparently.
Man. Woman. I just don’t care,
So long as they love me for me
And I love them for them,
I couldn’t be happier.
One day I will find someone, but I don’t know
If it will be a male or female.
But it will be someone.
And I will always wave the purple flag proud.
Free and happy.
Oct 21, 2010
Oct 21, 2010 at 3:24 PM UTC
No agreeability.
Force herself right into me.
See how she hides everything.
Oh but yet she can't accept
My bisexuality.
No, honestly.
Why am I still pondering?
Why am I still wondering?
Why the **** am I sitting here
Worried about what my momma thinks?
Seriously.
I don't worship Deities.
She said I did recently
Why do I even care when
She can't read me decently?
It's not fair.
I know what I feel there.
I talk to Him, I'm not scared.
I don't need to be treated
Like I'm spiritually impaired.
The last time
I've committed no ******* crime
I'm not replica of your design
This body I walk in,
This body is mine.
And despite of your words that burn
I will keep loving my life.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
I was encaged.
at the filligree age of 13
I told my childhood friend I had fallen
for the way freckles fell like sawdust on her teacup skin
and
the way her lips blushed around a cigarette that always burned too
close to the filter
In that town, with bleeding jaw
town like funeral bells
all were straight until proven otherwise.
in that town
ALL WERE SAFE UNTIL PROVEN OTHERWISE.
In 1892
the word bisexual was first used for being sexually attracted to both
women and
men.
Bisexuality does not explain
falling in love with fire.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
Once I looked to the Bard for words profound;
ageless, his wisdom ran unabated.
Yet Hamlet is now ideologically unsound,
“the slings and arrows” historically Iocated.
I wept for the creature of Frankenstein,
spurned by his master, forced to roam the Earth.
But I’d been subjectively positioned in a paradigm
by Mary’s anxiety about childbirth.
I read Balzac, Hardy and Henry James
describing “worlds” which seemed quite sensible.
Now Eagleton’s exposed their bourgeois games
I find them morally reprehensible.
I dreamt of being Robinson Crusoe
or proud, fierce Hawkeye in his buckskins dressed,
but Fenimore and Defoe have to go,
they’re culturally encoded and empirically obsessed.
Inspired by Guinness, did James Joyce sit down
to see what magic flowed when he was ******
The stream of Ulysses floats Bloom-about-town
dreamthinkingnever : “I’mamodernist”.
I’d gladly give Woolf a Room of Her Own
and be one of the boys with Hemingway,
but sensitive guys leave their bulls alone
say de Beauvoir and Luce Irigaray.
No more fun with Wordsworth being daffodilly,
no simple pleasure reading Mickey Mouse;
Steamboat Willie can’t help but look silly
dissected by Foucault and Levi-Strauss.
The Bible shows intertextuality
says the two Jacques, Lacan and Derrida.
Judas, a construct of bisexuality?
The **** fixations of Herod are?
It’s got so bad I deconstruct a holiday brochure.
I can’t even **** without Roland Barthes and Ferdinand de Saussure.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
I live my life in extremes
Polar opposites attract in the center of my soul
And for some reason, living on opposite ends
Seems to be a fashion trend
I am not the "I made out with every girl in my college sorority
So now I'm bisexual" type of queer
Not to out-and-proud vomiting rainbows type of bisexuality
I am the bisexuality that gets erased
The eighth grade girl who, when she told her first boyfriend she was queer,
He told her she was over dramatic and crazy.
I am the bisexuality that gets oppressed
Because I am confined to the walls of a shrinking closet
Or is it expanding?
I have lost my sense of left or right
Up or down
Yes or no.
I am not your manic pixie dream girl type of bipolar
Not the girl who needs saving from her mental illness
Not drowning.
I am the bipolar disorder that becomes overwhelming
The depression that chains me to my bed in the morning
The hypomania that seems euphoric, but is never happy
The grey area, the lone horizon, the empty space in the middle
Seems like something I drive through over the speed limit
Every day of my life.
While my extremes do not look good on your favorite actress
They look beautiful on me.
Not an outfit I can strip down when it goes out of style
Not a channel I can change when it is not appealing anymore
But I will learn to love my fluctuations
My mood pendulum
My love pendulum
I am swinging from state to state
But at least I am flying
Instead of falling.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 11:59 PM UTC
Were we really that tight anyways?
So we texted every day of the summer
So we laughed together in math class
So we were both supposedly bi
Were we really that close in reality?
So we knew everything about each other
So we always thought about one another
So we "actually" missed going to school
But were we really Best friends?
And we held each other when we cried
And we smiled every time we passed in the halls
And we protected one another in times of need
But that was just for one year
And then it suddenly went out the window
No more texts
No more laughs through class
No more bisexuality to connect us
No more knowing everything
No more thoughts of the other
No more missing school
No more hugs as we cried
No more smiles
No more protection
It's gone, and the chain that's been twisted and bent last year
Finally snapped and so did our bond
It's utter ******** about what you're claiming I did to Chloe
But I'm stronger then that
Because that year when we were close, was a major mistake
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
Hot tempered
An unborn member
Fearful of joy
She is her own toy
Caged by society
Confused with bisexuality
Locked up in her own thoughts
She could of cried but her throat is clogged
All corners of her mind
Seem not to be kind
The monster haunting her
Is the sadness of a young girl who died in a massacre
May she be set on fire
She should of yelled louder
Her walls are getting tighter
Silence.
No more struggle
The pain is over
She wakes up to see her own daughter
Quiet and still
She remembers her strong will
*Beautiful she lays
Small and perfect
With eyes like her own
The creation worth living for
Her daughter so tiny
Asleep next to her
She knows there is no hiding
Only to face and deal with the struggles
For her delicate little child
The constant reminder of why she is alive*
They're always the same problems
And they may get worse
But she takes a deep breath in
Because she knows how much she's worth.
How much she means to someone
To know what it's like to be alone.
Well that is a feeling she will not let her baby girl know.
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 7:36 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
With audacious openness
Let me accept substantial lot of men folk
When it comes to efforts in love,
Most are misfortunate.
Every time they dare to built
Affiliative bonding for love
With beauties beheld
By their limited eyes
The invincible whirling spell
Of fortune’s fool
Beguile them forlornly
Down the social abyss of time,
I and my type not an exception to the club
Of the guys who swallowed misfortune
Like the dog of Theodore erotokorostos
Does to a piece of bone
In poetic obscurantism
Of the corruptible simple souls
Obtaining their pathetic lot from ***** and wine,
In the first trial I chanced on a neurotic peasant,
In the second trial I chanced on turn to be henpecked,
On the third trial I chanced on a beautiful paranoid,
My fourth trial chanced me a deadly stooge,
My fifth trial gave me the worst blow
As I forlornly chanced on the time’s public commoner,
My sixth trial makes me chicken
Had it not been poetic audacity
That makes me brave to chew in public
The lot of my misfortune as I recall
The bitter sweetness of chancing on
A beautiful epileptic kleptomaniac,
My tired trial in the waned efforts
Chanced me a lesbian with insignificant bisexuality,
O! I now tire off from misfortunes of love
With a last black chance on a neurotic money-maniac,
And this is the silent lot of men
In their usual efforts to fulfill their dreams of love.
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
She was stark naked
I could see her ****
And her boyfriend had
Quite the **** on him.
His meat should have
Made him quite proud
And the lady’s ****
For crying out loud
Were perky and prominent
And quite nice to see.
Both of them seemed
To be pointing at me.
And I seemed to be
Eagerly pointing back.
They both very obviously
Aware of that one fact.
She smiled openly
And the guy broadly winked.
I started asking myself
“Do you think? He did wink!”
So, I winked and smiled
And let them see my bone
And hoped this meant I
Would not be alone.
I hoped they’d invite me
To sit on their beach towel
To slather sunscreen on them
Like a human mortar trowel.
There are not many things
There are few better for me
Than hot mixed couples
Into some fun bisexuality.
I have games for both kinds
And genders of human beings
All based on the stimulus
Of what I’m feeling and seeing.
Generally a single man
Is not lucky at this scene
A common concept that I
Always found to be quite mean.
I understand about jealousy,
An emotion foreign to me
So, I usually keep my distance
And behave circumspectly.
But when I get the go-ahead
I never hesitate very long.
How could something this good
Be considered bad or wrong?
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
I was born with ovaries for a brain
And a cavity for thought
The predisposition
To put my hand down my pants
At the age of seven
But with a good berating
From my unconditionally loving mother
The putrid seed was recognized
Its stem ripped from my mind
Torn from my ********
Too late
Obviously
Too oblivious
To notice that the roots still tangled around me
Its vines growing up into my ******
The **** that encapsulated my mentality
So the birds and the bees were my friends
At the age of nine
And that cute boy across the playground
Was cuter when I envisioned him naked
Only a mere three years later
And my susceptibility
Ignited the sight of cybersex
The capital ***
Or more commonly known as ***********
But when my parents soon discovered
The poisonous vines of dependency
The toxic ivy of addiction
It was forced to an abrupt halt
Too late
Obviously
Too oblivious
To notice the compulsive ************
That kicked in with the involuntary lust
For a pillow to trust under my hips
Before the age of fourteen
Securing the hypersexuality
So that the hot girl in the hallway
Was hotter when I envisioned her naked
And hotter than the boy next to her
So the bisexuality
Tormented my already demented desires
By the age of sixteen
Simply because
I was born with ovaries for a brain
And a cavity for thought.
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 10:29 AM UTC
"Why don't you come home more often?"
"Why don't you bring that nice boy of yours over anymore?"
"Why don't we get to meet this friend that you talk about so much?"
You ask
So many
Questions.
And I just shut down
And you just get mad
Because I have nothing to say
That will please you.
Why don't I come home more often?
Because this place no longer feels like home.
Home is where you are accepted
Not judged.
Home is where you are safe
Not targeted.
Home is where you feel loved
And I don't feel loved here
Anymore.
Why do I no longer bring my boyfriend around?
Because he can smell plastic people
From a mile away
And he turned into a greyhound
The moment he caught wind of your ********
He isn't as courteous as I am
And I envy him greatly for that.
He won't paint his skin to match your plastic shine
Just to be called one of your own.
I wish I could do the same.
Why don't you get to meet my friend?
Because I'm in love with her.
And my bisexuality is the only thing I have left
That you cannot
Judge
Or
Taint
Or
****
You can be as homophobic as you want about my friend
Because he likes boys
And you can change the channel
When you see two girls kiss
But you can't see what's right in front of your face.
You created the very thing
You despise.
So I won't bring her over
Because my kiss is still on her lips
And my boyfriend holds my hand
Through it all
Because he knows
That I need this.
You made three perfect children.
All married.
One grandchild
One on the way.
Two girls and one boy
Living out your dreams.
A scientist and a nurse and an aspiring policeman.
But don't you forget
That you also made me.
Your little
Outgoing
Antisocial
Loving
Bitter
Bisexual
Baby.
The youngest of four.
The "oops" of the litter.
You made me.
But that doesn't mean you
Own me.
And that doesn't mean you
Define me.
And that doesn't mean you
Need to accept me.
Because I don't need your acceptance.
I don't need you at all.
So
"I won't be back home for awhile."
"Alright. We love you."
"If only."
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 3:01 AM UTC
Selective, elective, feigning acceptance
Nodding your head in that knowing way
“It’s just a phase” isn’t just a phrase
With every passing day your ignorance tests my patience
Forgiveness is a virtue
But you “forgiving” me for what I am
Doesn’t make you a better person than
those who hate, discriminate, separate us as wrong
Why can’t you wrap your head
Around what I’ve said
I like boys, I like girls
And yet even my own community hurls
Misinformation and false narration
LGBTQ
LGBTQ
Bisexuality is valid
We aren’t confused or indecisive
This shouldn’t be divisive
You dare to say
That we shouldn’t stay
Because we have the “choice” of being “normal?”
When did bisexuality become not gay enough
When did bisexuality become not gay enough
When did bisexuality become not gay enough
I don’t mean to be callous
But bisexuality is valid
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 1:47 PM UTC
You started as a girl
With wavy blonde hair, worn long (for religion)
And sea green eyes.
You always wore a skirt (also the religion)
And hated it, railed against it every day.
That girl didn't last long,
The quiet girl who wanted out.
You were still a girl after
With short blond hair and green eyes,
But now the skirts were gone
And so was the quiet.
You began to rebel,
But only in small ways.
Hair
And skirts
And secrets never told, except to me.
This girl became a leader,
Strong and proud, MY leader.
Next you were dangerous.
Hiding yourself with
Cuts and the cuts with
Long sleeves and harsh words.
I tried to help, hide, anything at all
But it was hard,
With parents snooping,
Checking my email,
They discovered
The cutting and
Everything else.
I was ordered to talk to you and
In doing so,
Smashed your trust in me.
You never forgave me for that,
The dangerous girl I knew.
Next you were hard and sharp
With dyed hair and
A slash for a smile,
And new-minted bisexuality.
I tried so hard to balance
On the edge of your affection
And my confusion,
To find a way to be "normal".
But why try?
Normal doesn't exist.
I couldn't do it, so I
Gave up and
Flirted back
At, you, the girl I loved.
Now you're a boy
And I worry for you.
Your mother won't speak to you
And your father ignores you
And I had to move
And there are too many things I worry about.
You can take care of yourself.
I know that much to be true.
After all, you cared for me
When I was younger,
And for that I thank you,
The boy you've now become.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
it took me almost two decades to realize
if i try to live by the standards of others
i(t)’ll never be enough.
leaving behind the agony of perception.
embracing this idea of ‘contradiction’
cuz really, nothing is more confusing than
having to hide this big a piece of yourself.
"i am not just bisexual
i am a lesbian
i am not just a lesbian
i am a bisexual lesbian.
i have had love for a woman
deeper than for any man.
i desire a woman to be my partner in life.
i love women.
i am a lesbian.
i have loved men.
i have sought love where it offered itself.
today i choose to choose a woman.
i love women.
i am a lesbian.
and too
i am bisexual
in my history
in my capacity
in my fantasies
in my abilities
in my love for beautiful people
regardless of gender.
i have the right
to claim my lesbianism
and my bisexuality
even if it confuses you."
it’s taken me too long;
too many years and forced feelings
to let myself be shoved back
into your neat, little boxes
of simple binarism.
there is nothing simple
about being a trans ****
Aug 22, 2020
Aug 22, 2020 at 1:13 AM UTC