"cosplay" poems
In Anaheim the ultimate celebration begins,
People traveling from all over with fat grins
Luke, Leia, 3PO, R2
Autographs, merchandise, cosplay too.
Tattoos, nerd dating, panels and games
Sea of Slave Leias and other costumed dames
Everything you’ve ever wanted and more
This is the place you’re looking for
Fly solo, or come with family and friends
Party like a Jedi until the festivities end
From Lost to Disney, thank you JJ
Star Wars is back in a big bad way
Fans rejoice, happiness deep as a Sarlacc pit
There’s been an awakening, can you feel it?
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC
I'm considered to be nerdy
Awkward, not flirty.
They call me gay,
Because I Cosplay.
I must be a dork
Because Zelda's my lord,
And she's way cooler than any sport.
Could someone love me?
That couldn't be.
I watch too much anime,
And BBC.
I praise The doctor and Spock.
Even Sherlock.
Cause in my opinion
They're better than jocks.
Being nerdy is quite fun,
But you make me sound dumb.
We're accepting and caring
But please stop staring.
Am I making this boring?
Don't start snoring..
Just give me a chance.
I'll make it last.
We could play Skyrim or league.
Wait, don't leave!
I can be cool,
Just like you!
I can calculate big numbers in my head,
Or make a fortress out of my bed
I can be an ork, elf, or spy.
Just as long as it's allowed by the die.
I can cast spells online.
Don't worry, you'll be fine!
I can role play to the extreme!!!
That's right, I call it d&d.;
I'm proud to be a geek.
Yes, we're very neet!
We know our facts!
We're anime maniacs.
I'm good at mtg!
It takes skill to be like me.
I'm cool I tell you!
I'm grand.
But at the same time,
You don't make me feel great.
I'm a loser,
A dork
No, I don't like baseball, football, or hockey
I can't bench and I don't lift.
But I go to some pretty intense parties...
On Xbox.
My heart is bigger than my head..
No, not literally.
I'd bring you a rose
And write you a poem
You'd be my Rory.
This isn't the end of the story.
I'd love you more than
video games, Star Wars, and D&D.;
In the end,
You're always my MVP.
You don't have to lie,
I know you'll decline..
but my feelings won't change.
They'll always be the same.
Maybe I'd be cool..
If I were with you.
But that'll never be
Because you fail to see OTP.
Then again,
It's all good in the end
Because..
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Manga costs less
Than dinner for two.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
And the fish swim in the lake
and do not even own clothing.
– Ezra Pound
How would they style themselves for the net,
the little fishes of the lake?
Not robes of purity, Ezra,
but sequins cut from trash,
brands bright as lures,
fashioned to catch the eye, a glint of sun.
Would the big ones strap on knockoff fins
to flex in shark cosplay near the shore,
snapping reels in the reeds,
captioned #greatwhitevibes #apexpredator?
Would carp veil themselves in algae,
funeral couture,
posting stories of their grief in green?
Would they admire the fishery tags:
industrial piercings they can’t remove,
or the hook-slit scars from catch-and-release,
each one a verified badge,
proof they were trending once, briefly,
before sinking out of frame?
Would they tilt to the water’s glass,
checking which gill looks slimmer,
tails arched like influencers at golden hour,
the shimmer hiding shame,
the shame we taught them to wear?
Sep 14, 2025
Sep 14, 2025 at 2:34 PM UTC
.
*asks the one in the $9 Craigslist chair,
legs crossed like a philosopher
mid-way through a YouTube binge
on dark matter
and dopamine fasting.*
He thinks it’s profound.
It’s not.
It’s a shrug in a trench coat.
A crisis dressed up in code.
An old fear wearing digital cologne.
If this is a simulation—
***what the **** are we simulating?***
Heartbreak?
Minimum wage despair?
The number of times I check my phone
hoping it’s her?
Is it
a stress test for gods,
a beta for consciousness,
a joke?
Because if someone coded this—
they should be fired.
Or worshipped.
Or sued.
Where’s the patch notes,
the exit key,
the server room in the sky?
Where’s the moment it glitches
and someone finally says,
“Oops, our bad—
you weren’t meant to feel
all of that.”
You talk about the veil of illusion
but you still cry in parking lots.
You still ghost your therapist.
You still love people
who don’t text back.
You bleed,
you ache,
you spiral—
whether you’re made of atoms
*or ******* pixels.*
Your god wears headphones.
Your sacred text is a Stack Overflow thread.
Your heaven is a loading screen.
Your hell is just
Monday.
You pray in 1080p
to a silent DevOps deity
who hasn’t pushed an update
since the Bronze Age.
This isn’t philosophy.
It’s cosplay for cowards.
It’s a way to sound deep
without touching dirt.
Without risking faith.
Without changing anything.
Because if it’s a sim,
you don’t have to care.
If it’s a sim,
you don’t have to try.
You can just sit there,
scrolling.
Wondering if the fire
is ray-traced.
But here, the only questions that matter:
Does it hurt?
Do you love?
Can you lose?
Because if the answer is yes—
you’re in it.
Whatever it is.
Simulation or not.
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 5:12 AM UTC
Star Wars, X-Men
CoD, Pacific Rim
Lego brick, Ranger Rick
Graphic novel, the Tick
World War history
Model cars, chemistry
Nerf gun, Comicon
Myth Buster Byron
Extra credit, Cosplay
Risk, Chess, Anime
Billy Nye, ask why
You're the one, don't deny
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 12:53 AM UTC
If you get it, you lost it.
I am here
(On this platform it is evident for your reading now)
I express myself
(Heads scratching, wondering what and how?)
I share pieces of me
(A defragmented glimpse of an experience deemed ‘worthwhile')
Callous, sensuality?
(Or a traitor in sheep cosplay?)
A dead-end hi-way?
Or this pawn from yesterday?
Here, your final say
This family we never asked
Amontillado without it's cask
Dry and cheery
Heart’s are bleary
We own this laborious task
My sins are scrollable, thumbed in haste,
Wrapped in ribbons of curated taste.
A gallery of masks, all timed just right,
My shadow dances in the ring light.
What of shame when shame gets likes?
What of thought when thought’s in spikes?
I weep in drafts, but post a grin—
The world won’t wait for the shape I’m in.
So brand the bruise, then sell the hue:
A wellness tip in sponsored blue.
This self I host in feedback’s cage—
A pet, a post, a digital page.
I bare my soul (or just its shell).
You’ll never know. I sell it well.
I logged on seeking something undefined,
A tether, maybe—some reciprocal ache.
But all I found were mirrors misaligned,
Each smile too wide, each word opaque.
The comments pile like leaves, not read.
Applause from ghosts, replies from ghosts.
I feed the feed, it feeds instead—
A hunger that consumes its hosts.
I draft a truth. I dress it twice.
Add polish. Then delete.
I write in blood, convert to nice,
Make trauma fit a beat.
No lesson left. No higher shelf.
Just one more version of myself.
Jun 10, 2025
Jun 10, 2025 at 10:16 PM UTC
the whole uni-world-verse is a work of art
painted, sculpted, written, strummed, yelled, whispered, spoken, hummed,
watched, read, walked, met, clutched, felt, thought, fraught, shot, healed,
sealed, revealed, eaten, clapped, drummed, hugged, kissed, loved, hated, caressed,
sexed, hit, held, slit, melded, tripped, tasted, clothed, wasted, hurt, emaciated,
bounded, re-created, infinite, hallucinated, framed, contained, insane, profane,
profound, no-sound, throned, starved, crowned,
and could the hues and colors of experience be expressed
I would have worked this art to show and speak to no one
but as the same, no none
and yes some
to a sandwich multitude and the star-gaze vigil
from the back, to the front, in the middle.
all big, all mid, all little
and silent as a God watching young girls play fiddle.
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
The bridge character
is essential to the narrative,
it's just not HER narrative.
And later,
as if because the readers
have asked for more,
as if something about her
caught their imagination,
prompting fresh fan questions,
she features again
and the panels frame
more detail,
more of her back story,
her motivation
and perhaps we learn
her true name.
In a few years time
it may be that
a reader develops into a writer,
or perhaps an editor,
and a story is commissioned
telling HER history
with colour,
with space
and we see, at last,
her scars
and at last we see
the essential essence
of how she came to be.
And we identify
with HER.
But one night
when we look back
when we read again
that first appearance,
we realise that there remains
some unexplained detail,
a few missing pieces of her jigsaw
and as we put the final touches
to our too tight cosplay,
we wait, with hope
for her OWN title
that just might reveal
her full narrative.
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 2:02 PM UTC
sometimes
i bump into the thought
that i don’t really care
about anything
not school
not being pretty
or healthy, or better.
when you wipe off
the good girl cosplay
the soft peach blush
and the freckles
and the lip gloss
the straight a’s
and the sweet potatoes
and the self-discipline
you will find a wild thing
dancing around
in her underwear
drinking iced coffee
for lunch and
doing nothing but
writing and reading
and abandoning any
semblance of sanity
completely consumed
by all the things
i shouldn’t be.
and when i have
destroyed everything
around me
with my negligence
and delusion
when the decent ones
have seen themselves out
when there is nothing
left inside of me
there will always be poetry.
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 2:48 PM UTC
Cosplay Human
the art or practice of wearing costumes to portray characters from fiction, especially from manga, animation, and science fiction; a skit featuring these costumed characters
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
this cosplay of human we so oft effect,
movie projection of shaped variations,
semi-firm but mostly pliant,
bone not-so-hard-as-we-believe,
draped in skins of tissue pre-perforated,
we are forms that can last a century,
yet shrivel back to fetus in days,
for lack of simple water...
think human and know simultaneous,
billions of earth persona and
billions of cells in each
*by for of -
the people,*
each masked, each outfitted
in uniforms of differentiating gaps
more alike, all unique,
masses of differences of constructs same,
this cosplay is a preeminent miracle...
all of us
nakedly similar,
all naturally defiant of time,
all defeated by time, naturally...
this skit we play routinely,
costumed in a manner similar,
yet different, to distinguish ourselves,
and mark as group members
pretending to
vive la différence!
what import all this, pretty words
that tell us what we know instinctively?
just this...
I see you
perhaps you see me
changing my costume
not by choice,
still do not wear a
masque
my cells my words,
no cosplay,
my humanity on parade,
my file open to inspection
dare you visit the beginning,
when passion drove me,
the early version,
when I was not circumspect,
and my poems
were passion plays,
verifiable truths
and cosplay was not
part of my vocabulary
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
Aging Poetry Well (proving the valor of writing poetry)
no more write, post, establish
to your immediate satisfaction,
what you are
what you think
is an amazing piece of
just you,
plus+comprehending
the world needs it, you,
ASAP!
needy for the
cosplay contemporaneous sharing,
curse of our
instantaneous time
from now on
deep down, gonna let it
casket age,
let memory
of the intensity
rust sufficiently to
get some time~plied
rusted accurate actualized
perspective
maybe trash it,
maybe tinker and
spot-check edit,
but if it is going
to stand
time testing,
let it pass a
first Herculean
examination of
fire and forget,
returning later
to collect it,
the wounded
that,
refusing to die,
thus proving proof,
the valor of
red badged courage of
writing poetry
is it worthy long after
the internal commotion
has passed,
just like
an ordinary
but very first
"I love you"
forming and reforming
then blurted in
a wunderkind awkwardness,
that can't be
taken back,
well, *** and all that
put me aside,
could be weeks,
months,
researching
the thing I love most,
waiting for the day I
need it worse,
a lot less,
so I can
do it better
maybe even go back
look up them
odd old folks,
written in
longing ago high passion,
and come at them
differently
or wistfully,
not
and like me,
age
for better
or
for worse
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
I used to think I was different
special
weird
but I'm not
I read and paint
I sew and write poetry
I look after little kids
and I love
I'm a gay 15 year old with a girlfriend
I watch anime and read fanfic
I roleplay and cosplay
but so do my friends I am just like them
I'm not different
I am a cookie cutter
just like everybody else
and after telling myself I was weird for 15 years
its hard to be normal
I don't know what to do
I want to be different
but I'm not
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 2:58 PM UTC
protesting *****
down w/ this &
that; neo-Nazis
marching waving
weird geek flags
worshiping white
people from space;
Pride Marches
celebrating golden
underwear &
too much lipstick;
macho *****
******* yelling it
out; Slutwalking
through downtown
challenging **** &
mysogyny dressed
as ugly Barbies;
gender color trans
light a joint & sit
on the grass smoking
lovely, got my kpop,
got my g/bf; Toni,
Tony, Antoinette,
Anthony; neo-Nazis
rushing headlong
back into the dustbin
of history; prostitutes
pretend to be fembots;
acting like brainless
machines unless smart
as Jeopardy contestants;
****** cosplay fetish,
no cash, no crime; no
crime, no cops; no war
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 11:27 AM UTC
Silent little boy
With those piercing blue eyes
Gorgeous and vibrant
As if I'm staring at the sky's
Dark brown locks
Curly and now dyed black
For a cosplay of kaneki ken
Now that was a throw back
Tall and lanky
Like most of my friends
The new student of the year
Fresh from New Zealand
Though you're longing to go home
As this place isint really your style
Homesickness I would call it
You've been feeling it for awhile
And to a girl you caught feelings
One that used you as a past time
While the other was genuine
Until she changed her mind
Silent around most people
But we have some good conversation
Sheep go meow I say with a smirk
You're a problem you say
While laughing at your declaration
You don't drink carbonated drinks
As you hate the bubbly fuzz
Its quite strange I think
Cause everybody else kinda does
And you're a good kid I reckon
Though you need to voice yourself more
As you dont allow people to know you
And so they think you a bore
But I know there's something more
Then the silence and those stares
As you can laugh and smile with me
I can feel that you truly care
But I won't fault you for your choices
Cause you may not want people around
But at least for another year
You're stuck on Australian ground
So make the most of your stay my boy
Have fun and open up a little
As you've done with me
that way everybody can see
That you're a good kid
Just a tad anti social
Thats why I call you
Silent E
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
I'll be the Harley Quinn
To your Joker gender bend
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 10:34 PM UTC
the first time was more my fault
than anything else, but
it was his fault too.
i wouldn't have had to act like that
if he wasn't a liar.
but it ruined things for me
because now i don't trust people
and i don't think i will
the second time was split 50/50
i fell for a person who was what i thought was good
but she really wasn't. and she led me on
and possibly to get me off her case,
she hung out with people who cosplay better than me
and then she said:
"i could be there for you like an older sister might be to a younger sister"
so i cut her out and she cut me out
and i tried to get over her and the butterflies left and were replaced
but an empty feeling, but they came back
when she ran up to me and hugged me after we mutually hadn't talked
for maybe 2 months or so
and now i really don't trust people
the third time was entirely my fault
because he was friendly
and warm and a welcome face in a crowd of those
who were entirely too unforgiving.
but it was just that: being friendly
and i am a stupid little girl who thought that
his attempts at recruiting me for the drama club
and the fact that off the bat,
even when he knew people in the class,
he asked me to be his partner
were signs of interest
but i guess not because who would want me?
especially when there were people his age.
i let myself get my hopes up
sky high
and theyre crumbling to the ground.
and to think that i was starting to get better
at having faith in myself;
feeling better about myself;
trusting people
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC
Halloween is the one day a year all the people with stigmas against Cosplay drop it and Cosplay also.
Funny how stigmas are dropped if there happens to be an established cultural holiday.
Can you say "subconscious cultural double standards"?
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 1:55 AM UTC
Knock Knock (Yet Not TickTock)
Maybe or Mightily. Where shall we start?
Feeding up with our own ego.
Fearless knight ready for a battle
Stand on your own! Is there a path
lead to solitude? Look down
where those dropped
Stars squeezed echo.
They all reunified at valley bottom.
Fearless knight dawn your Armor
Who will be prepared to a cosplay night
Angel or Devil? Hold on tight
True heart's desires
Fearless Knight.
Stand your ground.
Due time for battle.
Maybe, Mightily No fearless.
Together, not alone.
08/03/2021
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 9:04 PM UTC
Poverty,
The losing end of a lottery
Forced to sustain a thread bare society
Manufacture a rivalry
But first get 'em use to seeing it on TV
Cosplay as naturally
There goes the humanity
Can't find neighborly
No comradery
Acceptance the oddity
Just, "single file please" to the factory
Talk back and be privy
To the reality of free
Copy, paste, delete, recopy
The definition of insanity
The loss in every "VICTORY!"
Is plain to see
But the pillow mints are complimentary
Subdued easily
Simply
Like smoke to a bee
The screen hides the real you and me
Dec 29, 2024
Dec 29, 2024 at 3:54 PM UTC
my first binder came by air mail
from China or Japan
and i thought that it would fit
after having accidentally told my mother i was transgender
and needed something to hide my *******
the look on her face broke my heart
so i backpedaled and said it was for cosplay
my heart too broke that day
because i was afraid that she wouldn’t
love her son as much as she loved her daughter
and it went sour for a while
we yelled instead of talked
i over dosed and self harmed
instead of asking for help
and then i tried to **** myself
in a rather selfish manner
my little sister was right next door
and i didn’t care
because right then
i was packed and ready to go
but who ever resides up there
wouldn’t let me enter the pearly whites
or the burned and blackened coffin doors of hell
which ever would get the biggest laugh
because i assumed that my life was the **** of a joke
that i wouldn’t be told the punch line to
rob told me it was sara’s dad
the same person that kicked him out too
and i believe in that with all of my being
because it’s better than believing in nothing at all
back to my being transgender
which is all my poetry is about
that and cutting and over dosing and the promise of ***
still to be fulfilled
and how much i hate myself
i am a broken record
but i read somewhere to write what you know
and my sadness is all that i know
i accidentally became my depression
and lost myself along the way
i am transgender
which means i was given the gender that my reproductive organs expressed
i identified as a girl for the first sixteen years of my life
then tumblr and family told me what transgender means
and i found that it applied to me
at first i was scared
i didn’t tell my family first
though i did tell my uncle first when i came out as a lesbian
i told some friends first because facing the screen was easier
than facing my family
but it does get better
and you should stick around to see that it really does
because the sun always comes out tomorrow
whether you sleep with your curtains closed or not
the sun always comes out tomorrow
annie agrees with me
and we are going to lose more
and more brother and sisters
but we can stop this
just listen to us
love us
accept us
and for the love of god
don’t ask me what is in my pants
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
Pedophiles in Westminster
All nicely covered up
Now it's the royal family
Will it ever stop
The thin blue line is broken
It's more like dot to dot
Then insult to injury
They give one of them a gong!
We earned the right to wear blue serge
With blood sweat and tears
It isn't cosplay for us
The uniform is real.
You say crime is falling
Your figures aren't real!!
So lament the passing of Dixon of Dock Green
You sold out to the Joker
there's no laughing here.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 2:48 PM UTC
1.
Cartoon characters
Fantasies of Superstrength
Bullied mutations.
2.
Dog-leash for bear cubs
Ass-less chaps for Furries' dads
Parade in Folsom
3.
Cosplay to Conmen
Dungeon to Dragon masters
Robbers at the bank...
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 1:29 PM UTC