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Sara Kellie Dec 2017
My name is Sara, a transgender chick
Wanted a *****, was given a ****
I hide it in knickers of satin and lace
before sitting down to make-up my face,
Next the prosthetics, I'm using two bits.
Stuck to my chest, they'll do as my ****
Now for my legs I'll put on false tan,
I wouldn't do this if I were a man
Alternative nights, a t-girl delights
to sit on her bed and pull on new tights.
I'll put on a dress, a cute one no less.
Then for my shoes, high heels I choose
A sandal style shoe as every girl knows
not only looks cute, they'll show painted toes
A bit of eyeliner, eyebrow definer,
lipstick and blush, I'm now looking lush.
I stand in the mirror all ready to go,
there's only one question I just have to know.
"Does my *** look big in this?"

Poetry by Kaydee.
I wrote this poem in 2010 shortly after introducing myself as Sara to the world.
Mihlali Stwayi Apr 2014
Coming from unknown shores, arrived these Western boats,
with disastrous as well as deceitful tactics they took our gold,
jump to the modern era, they are the ones' promoting ***,
they bare minimum death rates due to *** and Aids,
while African's lives in bitter ruins as the notion of "safe ***" seems perplex.
*** promotion misconstrued as our kids continue ****** the old,
Such consequences were never told,
when they sold us back our own gold.
Systematical control is now the definer of societies
Africans not taught of Qamatha but tested on Socrates,
African souls enticed into materialism by paper and cheese,
while Western supremacists economically ****** African Identities.
African child, fight back please!
This poem aims to tell the untold truth about the legacy of colonialism and imperialism as well as the effects of modern day capitalism on the African child.
Alin Apr 2015
she gave me white light
it looks like a light sword
making numerous echo in space
I did not ask for what ...I know
no ornamental word would do

futile definitions
flashy ads
waste of breath

15 minutes of clutter
15 minutes of fame
15 minutes of a life
yep Warhol was right

empty containers
to be filled up
to create -fillers
a byproduct of ego
of a selfless time
oh what an an illusion
I live in sometime
not knowing media as the bird's call

true technology is my received gift
with me inside or you
is there a difference?

we are all embodiment
carrier of the code
essence of eternal

not to hurry though
not to resist
resist resists the self just
I cannot trespass the chanting
I shall not think to try
thinking is my only sin

why do we fight?
mo and mu were the same guy
two incarnations in one or three
born at different times
their writers failed just

the difference definer
yes definer and not the creator
'create' remains holy
with a spirit – like words with
spirit-  
running memory
activated by sound maybe

the difference definer sets bricks
of flamboyance
en route escape to escape lifetimes
invites the endless cycle of fight

could fray be for peace
and not by cowardice?
fear is my only sin
born from ignorance
of self
as in my- as in your-
not a portmanteau but
an affix by nature
so there is no difference

let fray be for peace
then A joker's viola
let it be a joke for
a joyous while
for a joyous halftime
you don't need do much really
if you can whistle once
under the golden sun
through your belly
somewhere in a cool place
selfless illusion fades
there is nothing else

no book could describe
as such
I have crossed libraries
with my starship
but the source light
not bound to time so yes
for whatever it was
I closed my eyes

slowly learning to dance now
along its wings
it has more to tell then its aesthetics

we cross dimensions while
we perpetually make some
the reflection the waveform
in a little note we harmonize
my fingertips- carrier of a glow
I - the particle of light
we pass
and yes after each turn
there is a you to learn from
or I to be.
inspired by :
* a gift  * a song  * a friend's wisdom  * a white light that crossed my doorway recently :)
oh my stars May 2015
You are not a teacher.
You are a:
wisdom-imparter
confidence-booster,
esteem-increaser,
fun-creator,
book-reader,
­essay-writer,
dedication-inspirer,
love-definer,
joy-inducer,
ent­husiasm-evoker,
wonder-explorer,
beauty-demonstrator,
knowledge-s­harer,
thrill-designer,
truth-teller,
excitement-architect,
stude­nt-encourager,
A friend.
You are not a teacher.
I don't think people realise how much of an impact a teacher can have on the life of a self-conscious, self-loathing teenager with excruciatingly low self-esteem. This poem is dedicated to my wonderful GCSE English teacher who has helped me immensely over the last two years. I wouldn't be me without her. Thanks Miss :)
Carsyn Smith May 2014
How did we become this?
Creatures that look in the mirror,
but don't see the beauty facing them.
I always thought that
I wanted to meet the man who defined beauty,
but now I realize
he wouldn't survive the encounter.
India Chilton Jan 2012
Time is a watery reflection of the universe
give it to me straight and drink with me
hold my hand and walk with me
into the steel-toed footsteps of society
my heart's supposed captor
the director of minds
the decider of dreams
and the definer of happiness
who lead your eyes to my soul's window
and allowed you to see so clearly
what I desire?
was it I myself
when i let slip
through trembling lips
all that was left of what I was
when the light threatened to expire
with words that shook the stones beneath our feet
with iron tones the empty street
with my word rings
and like the footsteps of ancient kings
can be heard for miles
echoed by the voices that dared to speak them again
my words find their rhythm
they don't need me
I'm part of a chain of speakers
as long as the hands of humanity
reach back
and longer still
as heavy as the rain that beats
growing stronger
i speak to that beat
the beat that breathes
the beat that lives
the beat that leaves
traces in our blood
like tracks on a road well-travelled
like a river after a flood
like poets of old I cling to the grass
and speculate on its origins
wishing for a moment to hear the voices
long silenced beneath its feathered stalks
I read immortal words
etched on paper as if on bone
they inspire words like the desert sun inspires thirst
no longer a passing interest
but a necessity
a sonic perscription
I watch those used phrases like clouds
forever morphing themselves into new shapes
born again to the imagination
the waters of diversity rise
bursting through the floodgates of human limitation
I put my stamp on an unsealed letter
and send it in desperation to the earth
I don't know you-
I don't know you.
but allow me to be for a moment
the page that catches your falling words
as you shed them to grow your soul anew
and i might know a piece of you
and take it as my own
I'll add my name to the list of people
who look at the night sky
and in uncertainty find themselves not alienated
but surrounded
and think their eyes too weak
or their souls too young
too see that which
in undue haste
to surpass the insurmountable
has gone to waste
and left us spinning
trying to shove meaning
into the hours during which we cannot see the sun.
Ayaba Babe Dec 2012
I'm not super model beautiful.
I am beautiful
In my own unique way
But I'm not something that anybody
would want to gaze at all day.
Maybe to somebody.
Maybe to my mother-
But they say I look just like her
So in my mind,
Through her eyes,
That would be irrelevant.
But who defines beauty anyway?
Some of the ugliest things hide behind
and lurk within things that shine.
To the Definer of beauty:
Who's eyes are more attractive?
Yours, or mine?
Ken Pepiton Jun 2019
Apophrenia,

does that mean anything?

Yes, but not to you. It's me who must
discern the meaning
Synchron
ological
linked to words arriving in time to make
magic look easy.

Why would a documentary about the loss
of a national identity,

be made for you. Like why would a poetic muse
think of you,
fake person.

whither come your desires?

familiar desires, we have these in common, they say,
the sayers of what we have in common,

based on
stories.

Nowadays, everybody knows a queer or two,
we have that in common
beware, aware
the divider, twixt soul and spirit,
the cision, cut the cord folded thrice,
cut the cord folded twice,
cut the cord folded once.

tech replaces the twisted cord with
titanium chains, malnamed religion.

Ah, do I have a role. Definer. Re
lig or leg

upsy-daisy, a boost to umph u
past the try to the rite thing,
this is
what I do.
It's good for the whole universe, which
I have prayed for since I was eight.

Referee, blow that whistle!
Why is life unfair?

Life wins. The original deck, was stacked.

Hell, whose idea were you,
whose Idea was I
? Ah, who is gaining power by lying to me? I
wonder
if I knew,
what makes no difference at all,
null, none,
don't count, non re-al-if-iable

ever after now,
don't count. can't count, it hasn't happened, has it?

Tequila could have a spiritual role in this.

I answered, when axt.
Normal, I ignore, such seeming meaning things
But I responded. I got the good news,
and acted asif I had
and everyone noticed

but my friends in church. Ouch. Do you lieve be
that which chains you to a lie? or

do you wink, and think, fishished is as finished is.

or ever the silver cord be broken, how did this
appear
meaningful, to me, to say. Connect.

Whispering anointing flowing down Aaron's beard,

you know, the meaning?
You might be insane.
It's possible.
Or the tequila, yeah. It could be that.

---
the war of my calling, the warrior I can't help
but be,
or wish to be,
the hero of the story who saves the world

from lies let be true,
when you know,
it ain't so.

---
ah, why did the lies arise, oh, the money was made
available

we are
wonderfully
fully wonder made and cautious, wise, stay alive

translate that
fearfully,
and wonderfully made. Be okeh with that, even if George Fox is BS.
And the rich get rich

and the fact remains, the poor, so-called,
are always with you. We don't mind.

recrudescense, is an old redeem-ed word,
when you learn
there is a word for nearly every common thing.
Made raw, re-crud-escense
Even being rubbed raw trying to scritch an
unscritchible itch...

Can you handle the truth?

you may be those who have been called to take America,
the idea,
to a new task, to paraphrase Cecil William c. 1966

there are strokes of edge
ed weapons, mighty, through God, if you can belive that,
trustme,
belive and believe are some different here,

we make the difference real. Phrenia of any sort can't make us lie.

That ol' TG she be I am
wild as the wind, I laughed, you're just

out there, by yourself and everything is
about you, in a swirling
round about way.
As we charged the original al-go rythm, I'll go
be a suggestion to global brain's frontal cortex,
urging gestation progression of manifestation,
whispering to the search engine at the corp, of
the company with "don't be evil"
as a motto,

or was that a mantra, a plea to set truth free,

an ins tru ment of thought, set free... I be
let it be
and, so it goes. You know.

May you do no harm, ya'all.
A night of magic fingers, as it were,an altered state.
WickedHope May 2015
I write my name
My label, my identifier
My word, my definer
I write my name
And it looks wrong, outgrown
Do I have the power, the control
The grip
To change it

Get a grip
Stop slipping
State the facts
Stop tripping

You’re 17 and you’re young
You’re 17 and you have metal in your head
You’re 17 and you have metal taste
Stuck on your tongue
Dripping off when you talk
Forming the puddles in which you walk
Pooling in words that burn
They are a curse slipping through the smile
That reaches your eyes
Only because you painted it there

With brown eyes you can't make friends
With brown eyes you cried until you couldn’t
With brown eyes you smile like it’s free
You quit dancing
You quit schooling
You quit pretending
You started pretending

I am not the same as the infant born 17 years ago
I am not the same as the name that they gave me
I am not the same as the others that held my name
I am separate from that title
I am something new, beyond
Something true and someone gone

Scar after scar twinkles in the light
Hair after hair is torn out every night
What do you call a work in progress
Incomplete is not my name
I am not quite obsolete
To many I appear petite
To many I should just retreat
What a privilege to be given something to cling to that you never desired to own
No, rain is not the same as snow

A name is not a name
My name is not my name
It is a label I stole from fame
Nicole Kidman is not my role model
But her role was my model
My mother was her model on set
But this is a stage on which we are players
And I will not give a verse a name that is not of my own creation
I will not credit the broken, glue-coated, splinters of myself
To some foreign and separate person
No, not to someone else
Spoken word poem for a Slam in one of my courses. I know it's shorter than regulation, but I'm not allowed that much time anyway.
So... How is it?
El Saedo Apr 2014
Smiles, contentment and completion the energy leading us, darkness, pain, jealousy and envy stood by and watched us itching for participation in the beautiful game of God’s artistic hand crafting before our souls, we strolled through the garden of Eden with powerful mighty slingshot of David, the determination of Moses, The courage of Joshua, the wisdom of Solomon, the passion of Christ, the love of Yahweh,   we played out exactly according to the instruction of the Great I am, the I that is and will always be I, the heavenly I am that I am, the sun rose and set smiling, dancing as always as it does, the enemy never backed off maybe also playing to the instructions from the side darker deadly as sin, when eventually after the feast from the table prepared before the nemesis, just when the body is ready to rest and the soul ready to rise, Judas the doubting love child, the roaring lion that steals, destroys and kills with a kiss betrayed the pillar of human kind, the chosen son, the holder of the stick that separated the river Jordan, the ******* of the killer slingshot, the definer of wealth, glasses splintered, classes begun, blood of the lamb splashed, the world got washed and hope and freedom and completion got birthed, no grave can hold me, in 3 days I rose, I am alive and forever will be, devil is a lie and a liar and he lost, love prevails and I live on to right my wrongs as I write them, beer bottles will not win, hail king of kings, a piece about deceit, this is the day my friend got scarred on his face for life, from a family member for life, a cousin he can never disown, the Judas of the twelve.
 
Jamaleri© 2014
My best friend has an ugly scare on his face, after a lovely afternoon spend as we always do, in laughter and admiration, just when we were ready to call it night, his own cousin pulled a judas move on him and smashed him with a bottle right across his face, the day I wll always remember!
Why?
Why am I not good enough to catch your eye?

Sure she dresses more feminine,
But I wrestle best in denim.

Sure she’s tall and elegant,
But I am short and my free spirit’s evident,

Yes ok she’s gorgeous,
With all the time she spends to look flawless,
But I’m ok with my little bit of eyeliner,
Because it’s not my definer,

Sure she laughs at everything you say,
Thinking she’s putting her sense of humour on display,
But I can laugh too,
And still take you serious because my thoughts are true,

Sure she acts naïve,
But my “blonde” moments are genuine,
I don’t need to make believe,
Because I know what I can and cannot achieve,

Yes she makes you believe she’s exactly what you want,
Without her to breath you simply can’t,
And you believe her because she believes herself,
Until your belief to want her, your mind engulfs,

She’s a so called "GODS gift to men",
And those who oppose this she will condemn,
And girls like me who can’t stand a chance,
Well I’m overwhelmed If you just grace me with a second glance,

But I am gift too you know,
I am the high spirits to all you owe,
If only deeper you would look,
You’d see what patients it took,

I’m a gift too,
Because I have not lied to you,
I’m not making u believe I am "perfect"
Because that is not in any way correct,
I am only human,
I am real,
I am a human,
And like you I feel,

So stop it,
Stop looking past me,
In your world she does not fit,
Cant you that see,

Stop looking over my head,
Stop searching for another,
Before my love is dead,
And you want me but my hearts with any other.

Stop looking past me…
me.
here i am
existing
thrown into this world on a whim
without the help of her or him
her i am
existing
  
i wonder as i wander through the words in my head
why should i exist
why shouldn't i be dead
  
here i am
outside in the winter snow
trying to figure out
the things i don't know
  
the snow is cold
much like other things
such cold as the ice
or cold as the wind
  
that’s just it
as i leave the snow and sit
next to the fire
  
you and me
we feel things
with our fingers
or our feet
  
we feel warmth
we feel cold
we have senses
touch
taste
sound
sight
scent
  
we use these senses
to grab a sense
of reality
yet what is reality
and how does it have a sense
of me
  
here i am
existing side-by-side
with reality
the reality that defines me
but can i define reality
  
knives are sharp
and guns can ****
so no i don't think i can
nor never will
  
here i am
her i exist
a slave of reality
  
a
slave
of
reality
  
no
no
no this is wrong
how can i be free
yet not truly free
i have no reason
not to **** me
  
here i am
existing
and resisting
searching for something
more important than anything
  
meaning
  
reality! reality!
oh great definer of lives!
you have taken my life
cut it open with a knife
and removed
  
my
purpose
of
life
  
reality! reality!
please give it back me
so i can be happy
knowing my goal
making my life
whole
  
reality…
...reality
i now believe i know
what you have taken from me
i now believe i know
where it lies
  
for my heart is my heart
and my heart is full
full of life
(full of strife!)
  
because reality. reality.
the only me is me
and no great reality
not even thee
can define me
  
i define my own
reality,
me.
Jermon Aug 2018
la hawla wala quwwatha illa Billah
there is no power nor might except in Allah

the trees, Who caused, them, from the earth to sprout and grow?
water, Who caused, from the skies, to fall and by the torrents, pour?
the planets, Who caused, to align by the ellipse, by sheer gravity?
the heavens, Who adorned, with stars, of utmost clarity?

which of the blessings of your Lord will you deny?

the sun, Who caused, to shine, to set and rise at appointed times?
the poet, Who caused, the words to flow in deliberate rhymes?
the human, Who caused, to electrify the messages of time?
the offspring, Who caused, to arise from a mix, minuscule?
oh, to men of ancient times, did all this be of ridicule.

indeed, man is flawed.

science is merely an implemented plan.
how can we believe there is a plan, with no Planner?
how can we expect, the gears to turn on their own, with no Turner?

the workings of the universe is defined by science,
but certainly, there must be a Definer?

do you not see the workings of your Lord, now unfurled?
surely, if even then, man does not believe, he has erred.
27.08.2018
I haven't capitalized the words at the beginning of the sentences to show that compared to His superiority, they are minors.
The trees, the rain, the planets, the stars, the sun all have a methodical system which nearly all of us know so I won't explain it here.
By the actions of the poet, I am referring to the activity of the brain involved in all of that, linguistic and whatnot.
By the human, I am referring to mainly the brain and heart, and the nervous system, (which work by neuron signals/ electrochemical reactions) as well as the intelligence He gave us to be able to discover all the electronic advancements of today's technology.
And further. All of these have very deep meanings and loads of references.
I have used the word Allah, because it is the name God chose for Himself and which He prefers to be called by, and that it is free of all blemishes. The word God, is flawed, for it can be made plural (Gods), and be assigned gender (God, Goddess).
The name Allah, is neither male or female, and is singular, and is very divine since Allah, Creator and Owner of all Knowledge and Power, chose it for Himself.
(I use pronouns like He, Himself because there are no pronouns in the English language that are gender neutral and singular)
Mix refers to Nutfah, the Arabic word for mixed ****** discharge, the ***** and ****, which anyone who has access to the Qur'an (which is everyone [Internet], can look up as it appears countless times in the Qur'an.
The only source that proposed these ideas, 1400 years ago, was Islam and the Qur'an. So to disbelieving folk of those days, who did not believe in their Lord, all this, science, was ridiculous. They did not believe Allah when clearly, He sent down the revelation. Except for the believers.
To all those who didn't know, yes, there is SCIENCE in Islam, a RELIGION, which many argue don't go together.
Science as we know it, is what man has found out of the truth, with Guidance from His Lord.  Islam, is the truth, which includes all of science. The Truth that Allah revealed very clearly.
I did say the workings of our Lord unfurled as in we've discovered Allah's Plan. But that doesn't mean we can implement it ourselves. Which people argue on today.
But yet, we've only unfurled a fraction of what He has done. Barely a fraction. Indeed, man is a creation. He can only comprehend so much. So it is up to us to be smart enough to listen when it comes knocking at our door.

I am only human. I can only portray what is within my ability with the permission of my Lord. For those who want to read an astoundingly better version of this, look up Chapter 55, Surah Rahman in The Qur'an.
(WARNING: This is not only based on Surah Rahman, it also includes references from many other parts of the Qur'an)
We, as speakers of English can only understand the translation of the original poem. And as anyone knows, to get the complete amazingness of a poem, you need to read it in the language it was written in, especially in this case, since the original Arabic is by Allah, and the translation by humans.
But it still maintains certain literary techniques.
In Surah Rahman, Allah asks the same question, over and over again.  It is because humans are forgetful and we need to be reminded. Repetition instills remembrance and then we think deeply about it.
Plus, we need to be told something countless times, until we understand it.
Thank You for taking the time to read all of this. I hope it helped and opened up a better understanding of this world in your minds.
We are the creation most loved by Allah, and indeed, we can do AMAZING things! Inshaallah (If Allah Wills)
:) SMILE!

If you have anything you want to ask, you can always message me, and I will try my best to answer. But you can ask any others who are knowledgeable on this topic (I must admit I am not as knowledgeable as most).
Mitchell Jan 2018
Won the lottery today.
The big one.
The big big one.
Yes sir' the big one.

Gonna' put a little away.
Gonna' spend a little too.
They say some've gone crazy
With all that money to spend.
Wasted it all.
Spent too much.
Loaned too much.
Killed themselves.

Not me.
No sir'e not me.
Not me.

Whatever the streets whistle
I try to say it back
Say it back
You know, so the streets n' the road ain't lonely

Cause money can't talk, you see?
Can't tell me nothing because
Money can't talk, can't speak, can't talk, you know?

An' since the money can't say nothing
Cause you know money can't talk
Cause people n' nature and things are actually things that
Produce, function, you know actually do things, you know?
Money ain't nothing but green paper
With faces of dead men and dead scriptures
That only make measly kindling that smells funny
When you put flame to it,
But since money can't say nothing to me
I don't listen to it, hell, can't even listen to it
For it's got nothing to say n' nothing to do
But trying to control me

Ain't nothing controlling me
Cept' the bottle n'
The woman n' love

Woman n' love one n' the same

Lost track of what I was saying
Lost track of what I was telling you
My apologies
All sorrows are tinted with golden fringe
And the ten commandments of our lord God
Ok and farewell

I won the lottery you see
156 million smack-a-roos
For me, that's a lotta' silence
You'd understand what I meant
From the conversation we were
Having earlier
If you weren't listening, I understand
I ramble
Always have

Won these 156 million n' my first thought was:
Im gonna' give a million to each girl I was
Seriously with
Seriously heels over head with
Love I'm saying
And not just a million to each girl
Because that wouldn't be fair to the amount of time
Time is the most important construct of any relationship
It's a building block of both commitment and scorn
Of love and disdain

Time is a contradiction in any relationship
It is both a definer and a destroyer
A solidifier and a quantifier
A terrorizer and mortifier

A distant page on a snow slicked hillside
void of letter
A fragrant rose
on its last petal
A still cocked ocean erupting
with crooked horizons

The last line
When its the first line
Is the first line
And the last

So, 100 thousand
To every month
I was with a girl I really loved
Only got four or five
They know who they are
And they know who I was
When I was with'em
Even if I didn't
Or they don't

Don't see it as payment
For being with me
Or dealing with me
Or some kind of reparations
I guess
It's something like,
I wish I coulda' done
Or I wish I coulda' been
I guess
It's like I hope you use this
With someone who loves you now
That needs you now
To make life easier
To make life better
To make life
What you deserve it to be

N' that I love you
For everything that you
Were to me
And are to me
And will continue to be.

Today, yesterday, and

Always.
Lucas Dec 2021
the tense hypocrite;
king fool.
solipsistic proselytizer:
border ******,
big definer.
i do not endure.

i bow to hollow birth,
crying out
**** me! **** me! i deny being.
God, do you hear me?
why have you given creation away?
i want life, but not consciousness;
my psalm, i want nothing, but to be.

— The End —