"emasculated" poems
Dear men,
You are not emasculated when you are gentle to a woman.
You are not emasculated when you can't control your child's behaviour
You are not emasculated when you get a vasectomy done
You are not emasculated when you stand up for a woman, no matter how old she is.
You are not emasculated when you support gender equality.
You are not emasculated when you choose to not drink and drive
You are not emasculated when your lifestyle choices are different from that of your friends.
I am a feminist who believes that man and woman have equal roles in the society.
If you think women are weaker, I fail to comprehend you and I m not going to waste my time explaining you the basics of how to be peaceful and respecting one another.
Sincerely,
Someone who wants a change, and is doing their part in it.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 2:27 PM UTC
Bus-riding, crumb-counting hand wringers
Bibble-babbler, channel-flipper slogan slingers
Keep the volume loud enough to drown out the machines
That fill their cupped hands daily with excrement and dreams
These are the ****** of the canon
Button-pushing, lever-pulling product users
Wife-buying, tax-paying alcohol abusers
Emasculated monkeys done up in black and white
Clock in in the morning and flock home late at night
These are the ****** of the canon
Train-conducting, ring-leading hand shakers
String-fingered, queue-cutting, man makers
Drive home, cursing, lonely, breaking bones beneath their wheels
Without the time to diagnose that emptiness they feel
These are the ****** of the canon
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
Regret is the consequential disappointment
That the thrilling transgressive frisson your
Online ****** therapist offered for a number.
On the web no one knows if you are a dog
But the Daily Mail knows if you are a love rat
Their readers will wallow in your misfortune.
Millions have had web fantasies exposed
Sharp onomatopoeic cheating thrills have
Become a fear of secret lives found out.
Their private diversions now public lead
Nervous executives newly emasculated
To realise life is short, shorter than desire.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 6:12 AM UTC
There's trauma interlocking my genetics
Stripped of specifics boiled into one
My own blood stained with my ancestors' rapes
23% White in my DNA sickens my bones
How much of it was forced upon my people
My great great and further back peoples
How many mothers thighs ripped apart to give birth to the innocent child of white devils
To be beaten by the white she-devil for "enticing" her man
For the child- if lighter- it be favored but enslaved in the home- near that very room they were criminally conceived
How many young Black men taken and ***** to be emasculated and sedated to work passively upon the plantation
Take a wife- to have her taken to masters room
Have a daughter- son- and the pattern roll on
How many white people and non-black people believe Black peoples to be inherently ****** to this **** day
These are the origins
If White people ignore my claims
Then you- white man- woman- person
You are just as guilty as the slave owners
Just born centuries too late for free labor
You must pity this of yourself too
To ignore Black peoples cries is to be complacent in our mistreatment
To not listen is to feel we were deserving of our suffering
To have happily whipped and beaten your fellow man if born back then
To support U.S. military veterans and be empathizing of their trauma
While rolling eyes to when Black people don't trust police, the government, or all White people of high status
Invented- created- controlled- plagued by White people
Because of 300+ years of trauma has brazed us with forced submission
To ignore the intergenerational neglect of treatment among Black people
Makes you a slave master on a cold December in 1865 missing your slaves just born modern day
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 3:02 PM UTC
Parents would prefer kids stay away
from these three jobs,
cause as they'd say
*There's no way to make any money.
At least you can sell paintings with art
or hock a few bucks with albums from your music.*
No parents encourage children into any of these gigs,
especially prophecy.
Today, a kid would be fed pills for breakfast
if they expressed any interest in becoming the next Jesus or Buddha.
Suppose Moses decided to go try an open mic comedy night
instead trading his commandments for a set list
but I bet his adopted parents would have lectured him just the same.
At least Moses would have gotten a few laughs.
The job descriptions are strikingly similar,
just like the outcome
a 50% chance the audience will applaud and chant
or watch you in heavy, maudlin silence... sweating nervously struggling
to maintain a sane face while raucous thoughts of loathing and doubt chew then spit out pieces of heart and soul forcing a confrontation of an emasculated existence for five to seven minute while....
whoa, hi, sorry.
Must've been having a flashback for a few seconds,
forgive me.
There is a difference though,
in the mindset of this trio.
A poet knows they're crazy,
a comic ponders if they're nuts
while a prophet thinks everyone else is just cuckoo.
I can see why parents don't want you to
go near these three jobs,
problem being, it's more of a calling than a culling,
and once it's answered,
all I can say is, well...
good luck.....
have fun.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 9:04 AM UTC
Another bowl, more tail then life
they wait for just to mate alone
yet their prison forbids them
as there is no cloth to cover them
They swim in such a confined space
never known of clear stream water
never known what it is like to be free
emasculated in their orbital prison
Poor things, I feel so sorry for them
round and round in circles they go
with nothing but gulping to do
these wretched creatures, these goldfish two
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 4:57 AM UTC
You unwrapped my blind fold
I could only see this mess of deconstructed bones
The smog filled my bleeding nostrils
I gasped to know the truth of a world rotating in circumvention
Tangents of humiliation
A crab crawls back into its used receptacle
It does not have to face the uneven shadows
Fairy wings brittle and break
The ashes of frightened unicorns
Paths off way far into the emasculated jungle
Hidden silences wielded in your depth
Machines and paper plates
The trees of battered car horns and biohazard bags
The stereotypical infantile jungle world
Without the echoes of the children you never should have had
Mary prostitutes herself on the corner
The Holy Ghost burns unnoticed
Please let us go back to a time
When we could sit still without retrograding voices
Telling us to progress and revolve
We can no longer feel awesomed in the presence of a structural anomaly
One that had never lived or breathed
Or failed
We were on the verge of a revolution
Before they took our fairytales away
The myths were replaced with shear and utter disgust
For the entire human community
Let us retreat to the forest of Incas and attack dogs
For we can not have a revolution of one.
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:22 AM UTC
every day i see your grinning face,
scowling back at you,
i push the inevitable away,
the extremist christian preacher,
trying to "save" the impressionably intellectual college crowd,
only doing it for the rise of drawing a riot,
on the concrete canvas,
illustrating muddy red abstractions of chaos,
bowing to overlording masters of extremity,
in hopes of burying **** faces,
in prismatic drippings of paint-slathered sand,
eating bland beatings of faint clippings,
yet you stand there,
emasculated in your chronic musings,
without one permeated prism,
embedded in your studded jacket,
is your acceptance of how you could be.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 3:12 PM UTC
The air I exhaust is the breath I long for.
The desire to be emasculated by your every touch.
Your endeavor has gone more than noticed.
I come alive at black to stare at a gleaming light to try to understand your dreams.
My every minute is spent in a stage of being absent-minded.
I inexorably begin to discern what I crave.
You
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
Two white French girls
smoke a Turkish hookah
and listen to three black
African Americans sing rap
the hookah bubbles
the mobile smacks out
the emasculated music
their mouths relinquish
their language to the jam
the pencil makes no sound
The clouds scoot
orange and pink bruises
across the skyline
like the weather can’t wait
can’t change quick enough
it’s October already
and we’re still not done
with summer;
cling to every humid evening
hang around every last beam
of the too punctual sunset
In the club the beats begin
but it’s too early; no one’s inside
One of the French girls coughs back a dud ****
the bar door creaks
the traffic whispers
with bored engines
the beats want to sail
off with the clouds
but are kept echoing
between four walls
Time overcomes space then
the beats are cut
a siren wails, a seagull screams
the traffic streams
the awnings rock little trees
my concrete idyll
……
Two Spanish men arrive
and have a three-way
food talk
with a mobile
A piano begins
to sound out
Aquarium by Saint-Saëns
the beats return
then stop
a door opens
a door closes
the hubbub returns
The Spanish settle on
an Argentinean
the French girls switch to
a chantress
I digress
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
Endless scoldings from the Nanny
mean-face global fascist granny;
data-driven witch of woe
born of winter’s frigid flow.
Boys rebel in her dull school:
passive subversion of her rule.
Minds thus stagnate—shut down early
graduating sullen, surly;
unsure why they hate the world,
emasculated and begirled.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 5:44 PM UTC
~a unconscious commissioned poem~
<>
La Lumière est une Dame d'honneur
advantage Frenchies,
everything sounds
better in their language,
we readily concede
we make do
with those tongues
whose fluidity
clothes & coats,
those, we are
best at
confessing in
first light this morning
was emasculated, in thickened
first fog, eerie, discomforting,
but yet, mine alone to utilize,
and make discomfiture into
a poem of coffee and cream,
stirring within, colored dreams
Lady Light finally arrives,
descending on a staircase
from heaven, radiating all
with patience, the animals
all, proclaiming in a thousand
tongues, their thanks, their
love, for everything breathing
understand best she is the source
of creation, reanimation, and a
sharing, unsparing, birth mother
to animate and inanimate, and
the death father to all we & us,
guide to our ultimate end
the waiting is most interesting,
for indeed, there is honor within,
as I compose, the sunrises to the
precise angle to bar my vision,
power to blind and enlighten,
how can this be, but it is so,
my bones warmed, suggest I
do not complain, accepting with
no exception for this is the power
source to us all, and humility is
the key to acceptance & understanding
is this poem, is this the missive,
me~my, intended, to write,
know not,
for the words leech from my skin,
in format uncolored, uncontrolled
by mine minuscule impoverished
compost of senses, morals and my
compote of cells that are products
of a thousand prior generations
morphed into a mess of me,
as of yet, purpose hidden,
undisclosed, perhaps my
reasoning is unseasoned,
my presumption of purpose,
is just a fool’s ridiculousness
Lady Light smiles kindly on my
rambunctious ilreasoning,
for I just one of billions come,
gone, and rebirthed in chains
of endless possibilities, two
words permanently paired,
conjoined, and though the
light has now risen to heights
to totally absolve my sight,
can no longer track what
is being written, accepting my
temporally blindness with grace,
even with solace, and-bid you
adieu, adieu, (bye~bye)
so musically,
until relief will
honor me with its presents…
and I can contemplate my
foolishness once more…
and the letting…
of the
*Lady’s light
of
honor illuminating
(even me)*
<>
commissioned by Pradip
7:35 am
in the sunroom where
the intersection of all light
illuminates all kinds
<>
music:
To Try for the Sun, Song by Donovan
Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In by Fifth Dimesion
Aug 5, 2024
Aug 5, 2024 at 7:52 AM UTC
The Artiste Carvó's "The Greatest Fartist Alive"
(Another Crummy Acrostic)
T is for **** I am attended by flies...
H is for Haughtiness, I am flowing through the fartist's stanks...
E is for Enema, my fine **** pollutes the very hole...
G is for Gigantic, I am the biggest ego in history...
R is for Refluxing, my fine putriditry puts artistry in ******
E is for Emetic, I truly am expelling...
A is for ******* I posses the gift of ****
T is for ****** I leave no stomach un-turned...
E is for Excrutiating, my words torture the very soul...
S is for ****** My logic is slimy....
T is for Tag-along, I truly am shadowed by all and everyone...
F is for Fatuous and Flatulence, the essence of I…
A is for Archfiend, demon am I...
R is for Revulsion, My art is abomination - My art yet *****
T is for Tedious, I have been placed here to bore people to death...
I is for Idiot, I am truly unblessed...
S is for Selfish, I place **** before I's self...
T is for Talenticide, I have killed all things of art...
A is for Asinine, I possess all lacks...
L is for Lifeless, I truly worm the artistic heart...
I is for Idolize, I worship I...
V is for Venomous, I am all that is spite and impure...
E is for Emasculated, I am indubitably impotent...
This sums up why I and I alone am the greatest fartist alive,
And I will of course do one of my great farts in time.
*Original ('The Greatest Artiste Alive') by: Thee Artist aka Logbrain Crappó
Reworked by: CrE aka Trollminator*
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 2:11 AM UTC
Through the catacombs of dark dreams I chase these screams
The cry's and tears of the innocent guide my path
Exhausted but never tiring in my quest
Bones snap and tendons tear
Emasculated the minions of this beast fall
These evil trolls that prey on mine
His arrows pierce my chest but not my soul
These wounds do not scar me
I wield my fathers blade with righteousness
I shield myself with my faith
His hatred sears like an unholy heat
My flesh torn and my blood spilled
One captive alone is worth this sacrifice
If this is thier ransom so be it
These tears cried blur my vision not my duty
He cowers behind those even weaker than himself
He shields himself with the children of my father
Forward son's of light Illuminate
If this be our last day our last fight
Let it be shouted denique caelum
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 9:46 PM UTC
White middle-class men.
I've heard them
Referred to, as the trans-emasculated.
Then the great white wave of women
Found him appealing, and then irresistable.
Hands down.
Who could hear the leaners, whispering,
Not daring to utter a name too loud,
Without bell, book and candle.
Surrogate or subrogation.
Rich in image, and derogatory by degrees.
Sugar Daddy, or real Daddy.
Enigmatic.
And I, being a ******
And not in need of support,
Followed her,
Then raised my hands
In supplication and prayer.
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
Affirmative. I’m opinionated. Just imagine I’m every confident, intellectual woman that you’ve ever hated. You must be faded: the smack you talk, you deserve to be berated. Son, I’ll spank you back to your upbringing like yo mother should have!
Girl you’re brilliant, but when they treat you like an acquisition, come behind your desk and ask what’s your favorite position.
ANSWER, ANSWER: C. E. O.! “you **
You know they say “I’m sick of your complaining” and “snap this ***** is crazy. Oh **** She must be MEN-STRUATING!”
You’re disrespectful to the ***** Positively shady. Boys will be boys that language is fitting for them to call you but not for a LAY-DEE. When all you see on a woman is ******* and ***** - Hey! We are not passes to your manhood. looks down Your ego is inflated with superficial currency “manpoints!”
You need to treat women like **** to have any value? Well you got a sentence slated. “Female, don’t say those things, forbid they feel EMASCULATED!” Well you made this sandwich. And now you have to eat it. “beat it!”
Don’t treat me like an object. I reject how you project your gender roles on me they’re only fiction. Man, I hate to tell you but my life is in MY OWN jurisdiction. You better be grateful I chose the restraining order, yet you’re still pushing the border.
“Get outta my business!”
Don’t touch me, bro, I’m close to the edge. Me and my homies gonna push you off this ledge.
As for the rest of you,
Yea I know you’re afraid to give me power, know imma tower over you and win this battle like Eisenhoooower.
So be wary of the toxins you provide to this chemist
Cuz she’ll stir them into a weapon, release the angry FEM IN IIIIST!
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 3:52 PM UTC
I would rather be
A star swirling in unconscious ecstasy, or
The air captivated by gravity, or
One single wave as it shies from the shore, or
A pebble cemented into the sidewalk path underneath a leaf
as it’s cracked and crushed under the heedless, preoccupied nature of man, or
A humble crease of a sick rose’s petal, or
One coffee ground stuck to the bottom of a yellowed, chipped mug,
Because it doesn’t matter, it does not matter.
Nothing truly matters.
Whether you’re privileged or impoverished,
Content or depressed, dispassionate or obsessed,
A ****** or a giant, timid or defiant,
Powerful,
Crippled,
Insane,
Naïve,
Whether you’re green with jealousy or environmental tendencies,
Whether you Fight,
Fight for world peace,
Fight to end, to **** Hunger,
It will not matter.
Because Man is addicted to conflict.
War is on the pedestal.
Hatred, envy, greed, lust, and hunger all
FIGHT
To ensure its power.
With every hand that scrambles for control,
With every eye that narrows to aim,
With every breath held for stability,
That pedestal heightens and heightens.
You might as well sigh for the butterfly who killed all those damaged, but innocent individuals.
Its gentle wings, essential to its survival, are to blame.
So you might as well accuse that abusive husband in New Jersey for the Iraqi War,
And that fisherman in the ****** Islands for global warming,
Or that little boy who's crying for the emasculated, shrunken, pathetic homeless man muttering,
“Hope is hope because hope is never hope. Hope like a rabbit, hope hope hope.”
Can you not see?
Can you even Be?
I can only hope for an escape, an exploitation of no conflict or aggravation.
just one wisp of matter with no conscious mind.
I can only point at all inconsistence with determination to prove that the only consistency in this entire universe is simply
ILLUSION.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 9:06 PM UTC
I grew up chaotically
in dichotomy, my hands
in between the walls carrying bi-polarities
“cradles! babies that squeal
for fear of strangers,
mothers, where are the mothers,
where is the family, have you disappeared
in McDonalds and KFC’s?”
Flashing Christmas lights throbbing
in my left eye, so colourful I don’t know
directionality, temporality burning me up
losing me up, inside these sights I feel a, a
maze in again, and up again…like
a ****** on a horse-
“there are aliens outside!!”
though, on the other side
just
air
in my right eye. I see air, extending.
all the gentle blue hum of the air.
it goes, breathes, in and out.
Lalala,
mmmmmmmm
It's so satisfying man.
Tell everyone about it.
While everyone sleeps,
I creep into the boardrooms,
where they hold their secret meetings.
There are certain syndicates in charge
of things like this; devising plans,
scratching heads, drawing charts,
painting on brains,
with paint by numbers.
But go on, (shuffle awkwardly),
for i am no emasculated lion
courageous in defeat,
i am merely a rose,
left lying on city streets.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC
If I were a man, I'd be free,
To ask a woman out for coffee.
But I'm a woman, I have to play coy,
And let the fieldwork be done by the boy.
I have to wait for him to make a move,
And only show that I approve.
I have to bat my lashes and display a pout,
And behave like a human sized trout.
When he leans for a kiss, I'll have to push him away,
And blushingly say "not today"
As a woman, society wants me to behave in a way,
To be demure, dignified and flirt in a womanly way.
But you know what, let society go for a toss,
This woman here, is her own boss,
I'm going to be direct and forward,
And if that scares you, move along coward.
I’m not going to sit around and wait,
I'll be the one who'll ask you for a date,
I know I know, guys love the chase,
But hey, I'm not a car, this is not a race!
God knows when you'll overcome your cold feet,
So I'll be direct and very indiscreet,
So if you like me, and I get the hunch,
I’ll ask you out to dinner or lunch.
I have no time to waste in decoding your hints,
Deciphering your mind, your glances and squints,
I'm not Robert Langdon, this is not a Dan brown book,
So when you give me that interested look,
I'm not going to ponder and over analyse,
The mystery behind the movement in your eyes.
And if you happen to reject me and say no,
I promise to take it in my stride,
Because I don't involve my ego,
And let indecisive men hurt my pride,
I am free spirited and emancipated,
And do not particularly care if that makes you feel emasculated.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC
The fool by the window
Who’s too emasculated to be alleviated
Who lives by the shadow
With no one noticing what he has initiated
The fool by the window
who’s very elated of a single scintilla
Who symbolises a ******
Who feels as dumb as a chinchilla
The fool by the window
Who only needs a listening ear
But keeps himself alone
Because he believes no one is to be trusted near.
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 12:31 PM UTC
I am not exotic
But I am ******
I’m not this flesh
Or these bones
This body is
My home,
My temple,
For I am
******
Mother and
Sacred Crone
I am not exotic
But I am ******
I am the fire
Of Holy Desire
I am kundalini Shakti
Sacred Power
Life Force Energy
What you cannot
See in thee
You project
Onto me
I am not your
Mother Wound
Projection nor
The cause of
Your demonised
********
Open your eyes
To the lies
You cannot
Cage me
By category
Tick me off your list
Make me invisible
Divisible by
What is not true
For I am
Another you.
Reclaim your Desire
This Holy Fire
This creative force
You're not seeing
Is what birthed you
Into being
Embrace your Passion
Let your tongue
Kiss the truth
With compassion
Proclaim your name
Without shame
You are not toxic
You are ******
Let your desire
Flower
Own your
Power!
We need to change
The conversation
Between this nation
Of women and men
Generations of trauma
Perpetuated
In the name
Of some sod
They call their god
Defy the lie
Don’t comply
With temptation
They control
Our needs
To spark their
Insatiable greed.
Don’t cage
Your longing
To feed your
Belonging
This individualistic
creed
Consuming
Subsuming
To fill the void
Left by
the ban
On Pan
Earthy
deemed *****
Horn scorned
Turned into ****
Scapegoated
Emasculated
Devil
Demoted
Goddess
Demeaned
Rise up
Open your heart
Resist the force
Tearing communities apart
Face your fear
Shed those tears
Cause a commotion
Release that emotion
Lets change
the agenda
That segregates
Our genitals
From gender
Refrain
Unchain
Shiv Shakti
Eros Aphrodite
Mars and Venus
Liberate your *****
Own your passion
Penetrate compassion
Don’t measure
Your Pleasure
By some
prescriptive
Fashion
Embrace your
Inner lover
Honour our
Earth Mother
Stop blaming
Shaming the other
Let’s form a union
Let love be the sacrament
The Holy Communion
For we are ******
We are the fire
Of Holy Desire
Let Compassion flower
Let the power of love
Banish the love of power
Nov 23, 2024
Nov 23, 2024 at 6:10 AM UTC
she was a former witness of jehovah
I ain't much on casanova
couldn't find my GPS
flew over her cuckoo's nest
her perspective compromised
my countermeasures plagiarized
maybe the moonlight sonata?
worldly persona non grata
emasculated superpowers
rain man never counted flowers
just kept running up that hill
terminating her goodwill
yes it was something that I said
another joke over her head
obstinacy will duplicate
a failure to communicate
so many times I tried to love her
the gibson to my danny glover
some animals just are more equal
pray to jehovah for a sequel
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
Yell at the girl
She's got a brain, I feel scared beyond repair
Yeller at the gurl
Her face melted into red tones of paint all the way...
This baby
This baby
It melts
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 8:16 PM UTC
exasperated, emasculated,
So the negative connotations
From life's ****** molestation,
**** from this Annotation
emphatic, tragic confirmation
That my formations deformed,
so be warned, u won't be warmed by hearing I've conformed
To be socially Reformed
Reborn, no Solubility of scorn
No Altruism, so Imprisoned
is peace's vision, Forlorn
****** but pleasure like ****
Isn't a focus, so like ****
I'm Unable to reject the amorous nature
Of what will take place
But I fail as I try to placate
Or humorously play hate
But that's like calling date ****
just an innocent play date
when we're ****** for pay day
Catching Freedom in an Infallible trap
Leaving memories, both enemies, and remedies, when flashing back
But without Omniscience, it seems
Only Predestination Is left
Wit bitter taste of self hate,accepting fate,
now only death
can stop the new Aversion to breath
Causing a Discrepancy to remain
Some say lifes a gift to contradict
all i insist is inhumane
A reality based on haste, hate,
A purgatory Where narcissists
Prove that ignorance is bliss,
cuz happy Usually r ignorant as ****
Or maybe there's no correlation
and I just **** at curation
Maybe pessimisms Pervasion
Has damaged me for the duration
Of life never to vacation
From rigid Dichotomies like
Believing in prophets or profits
Or what's legal and wuts right
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 3:06 AM UTC