"invalidate" poems
I think sometimes, about what it means to be transgender. I probe and probe for answers, because as the possibility for a new age of enlightenment and safety increases, the others want to know. I’ve come up with many answers, but I can hold to none. I don’t deserve to paint the definition of a culture with the limited experiences I’ve had. I don’t see myself in the transgender identified people allowed on television. I don’t see myself in the transgender identified people making news feeds and giving high profile interviews. And as my nation’s exposure to our culture increases, likely will their curiosity. Am I transgender? Do I have the right? I’ve heard doctors, psychiatrists, may refuse transgender patients access to hormone therapy based on how dedicated or convincing their portrayal of their identified gender. If you want to be a man or woman, you’ll have to look like the women and men on TV. If you want to be transgender, you’ll have to look like the trans identified people on TV. Every single one of us who has an active role as either participant or observer in our society is prey to the crisis of validity. Am I pretty enough? Am I strong enough? Am I brave enough? Mom enough? Dad enough? Competitive enough? Successful enough? Rich enough? **** enough? Pious enough? It never ends. We’re, as a nation of people, being crushed and compartmentalized by this ever present lens, looming over us, exploiting our weaknesses and fears so it may grow wider, and support itself as it follows us, seemingly forever into the future. And one of the worst fears this camera of existential torment exploits, in most of us every day, is, “Do I have a reflection?” “What does it look like?” “Do I look like me?” What does it mean to be transgender? I can’t get away from that question. But I don’t have an answer. There are varying degrees of anguish, depression, panic, anxiety, and other wonderful emotional states that creep up on you and breathe down your neck nearly every waking day. Absolute contempt for the lie of a life you’ve lived till now, and contempt for the fragments still stuck to you, in memories, attached to your body and mind. Fear of those in your own community who would purposefully humiliate, invalidate, or attack you, choosing their own universal moral code over the innate urge and capacity to support the health and continued well being of another human. A ******* neighbor. A ******* pupil. A ******* employee. A ******* sister, brother, son, daughter, mother, father, cousin, ******* blood. What is being transgender like? By my experiences, it’s just like being anyone else in the country. But with a lot more fear, death, exclusion and medication.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 5:07 AM UTC
1383
Long Years apart—can make no
Breach a second cannot fill—
The absence of the Witch does not
Invalidate the spell—
The embers of a Thousand Years
Uncovered by the Hand
That fondled them when they were Fire
Will stir and understand—
29.2k
What is it about this chase that eludes me
That runs away from me
That seeks to experience and then flee me
Until I get hijacked by another
Consenting to my own free fall into ignorance and bliss
Conditioning myself to transmit
Abundance without reservation
Until shot at the knee
But dragged along for a while longer
By the chains I so genuinely let bind me
And even before the wounds have healed
I don't stop running, I won't stop running
Resolute in a chase that targets me
I do so unconditionally
But you can't hijack my senses
I am not an experience or experiment worth having
I am not a temporary treat to be improperly digested and defecated
I am not an amber that ignites upon initial contact
To then be mediated or extinguished if the temperate is not right
I am not the holy water that you colonize
And shower with to cleanse you
To then invalidate that sanctity
When it falls down the drain
I am not a barometer that reliefs the labor
Needed to challenge the aberrations
Of your colonized and colonizing tendencies
I exist
Physically insignificant
As the earth that birthed me and will bury me
But eternal in essence
I am a permanent presence
I am an unforgettable imprint
I am your equal, no less, no more
The moment that we mutually acknowledge
Each other's existence
I have bound myself to you
From that moment...loved you unconditionally and eternally
And expect no lesser commitment
From you to me, or any other person you meet
And even after the wounds have healed
I don't stop running, I won't stop running
Resolute in a chase that targets us
We must unleash our abundance unconditionally
And when we leave
We will have given
Absolutely everything
That we had to give
During that time of our existence
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
The City of Derby holds her breath amidst the crisis of historical ramblings and talkative expressions of inhibition.
Do not be deceived. Roaches are not mere insects, but are also three-course celebrations of haunting and religious engagements. There are Peaks which lie beyond the stratospheres of Leek.
Although the parameters of yesteryear project their own splendour, let us acknowledge the silver hair which drips with eternal statements of antagonistic adoration in Curzon Street.
Oh, rose of Sharon, in my sheer lack of understanding, I do not invalidate those instructions to depart from Birmingham New Street.
I have deeply immersed myself in Welsh pools of genuine loss, and have found a precious commodity which I had never beheld in former lifetimes.
Furthermore, I lament the loss of such generational integrity.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC
(for the unknown You) –
Sweep up a mound of achievements;
layer dogwood and newspaper beneath;
find a small, secluded shoreline to sleep an endless sleep;
shovel money (in at least twenty currencies),
some status and fame
onto the funeral pyre’s unremembering flame;
write furiously with computer or pen,
fill out the days’ whitespace with enthusiastic fantasy;
revel on a fallacy (or three);
win the gladiatorial games in the Corporate Arena;
rediscover a bit of ancient folklore;
set up nice altruistic societies to make orphans feel infinite;
plant a little garden – give guidance in its growth;
build four or five fine-but-small boats
with richly decorated keels;
fight for something worth believing,
though I’m still unsure what that means…
A(my) guess: lyricism and poetry and prose,
musical composition, simply being kind and open;
A suggestion(for You): lay Your hand on a patient’s slowing heart
in a cancer ward, catch their tears with a jar
and meditate on better things to do;
give the old folks a laugh;
steal the Elgin Marbles back for the Greeks,
or, for the memory of ancient Greece;
find where lay a psychopathic fascist’s bitter ashes
and give them to the conspirators for closure;
(for me) place letters on the graves
of John Keats, Percy Shelley,
Wystan Auden and William Yeats;
rescind, abolish, annul, invalidate
my station in God’s dysphoric, existential reverie;
heap up beautiful words and send them off to sea
inside a laptop on a cellophane-wrapped raft;
(for both of us) think thoughts uplifting;
smile thirty-three times a day (or more);
plan for the future of ourselves and others;
give just a bit of love to our mothers;
sweep the kitchen and the city streets for free;
by your garden plant a tree.
Beyond these things for us to do,
be proud-yet-humble, open-eyed and acquiescent;
just accept; all things inanimate and animate, accept.
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 7:58 AM UTC
I once read a post that said
something along the lines of
“I do not trust people
who tell me ‘I love you’
and yet do not love themselves.”
And that hurt my heart, it really did.
Who are you to invalidate my love?
Do you not know
of the sleepless nights I have spent,
laboring over my sins of the day?
Knowing that sometimes
I may never repent?
With past regrets
and paranoid overthinking,
how do I rest?
Do you not know
of how I avoid looking in mirrors
throughout the day,
or how I hate looking
at myself in the shower?
Don't you know how
conflicted I feel when lying
naked and vulnerable with my lover?
Do you not know
what it feels like to apologize
for who you are?
Or to have all of
your efforts and ethics
invalidated and dismissed?
If you do not trust me then so be it,
but do not reject the idea that I can love.
I know what it means to have
neither hope nor acceptance,
I know what it means
to regret my existence.
I know what it feels like
at 4am with all the lights out
with the absolute conviction
that I am entirely worthless.
I know **** well
what it feels like to be unloved.
Does that not make my love
mean that much more?
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 1:57 AM UTC
When they tell you that they are a they,
or a xe, he, she, "whatever"... you must not invalidate this statement. You must accept it, even before understanding. You just might be the first.
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
Relax, begin to Imagine you are in the proximity
to immerse yourself into a precious moment.
It is that needed time you have brought into being, and is intrinsic
to experience composure, equanimity.
Smooth - melodic - ambient music with simple cause,
low and soft will, in its incipiency invalidate
trending previous troublesome thoughts,
silkily, sauntering, lingeringly pauses,
to softly embrace your audible senses
with silence which conveys complete assurance,
that the here and now is yours, no-one elses,
ataraxia created by you, for your true inner self,
It continues; envelops remaining unsettled interruption
embraces the heart, and encourages serenity,
all the remaining negative, solicitous intellection
are temporarily, tipped out of your consciousness,
you are experiencing them leave, then transcended
with blissful tranquillity for your indulgence.
You are asleep with your eyes open, it feels so benefic,
the mind is calm and clear no longer confused.
Melodious sound continues to provide atmospheric
momentum to this sensibility folding into the soul.
Joyfully you are enduring moments of pure inner solitude and
wrapped in perfect peace, consciousness uncommitted.
There is no expectation of time, not at all
just the psyche drifting, changing shape, density, profundity.
You feel wonderfully restituted, calmed; uplifted.
You sense it, knowing, this absence of tension you sought,
this, your perfect you, is transient and will slowly begin to regress, reluctantly,
relinquishing this blissfully serene, conditioned emotional stillness, to be restored.
Then you turn the telly on! All gone.
Michael C Crowder March 5th 2019
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 7:40 AM UTC
The disappointment that resides in me,
as much as I tell it to go away,
swallows my entire body.
It eats away at my flesh and rarely
leaves enough time for skin to regenerate.
The disappointment that resides in me
licks its lips hungrily
at the sight of my blood, salivates
and swallows my entire body.
This cannot be healthy,
I say to myself. There has to be a way to invalidate
the disappointment that resides in me.
I wonder if there was ever a phase of sobriety
when my expectations' weight
did not swallow my entire body.
I suppose I must return to reality
and succumb to incubate
the disappointment that resides in me,
that swallows my entire body.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
Your anonymous blog
To my face you are kindness itself:
cheerful, always upbeat,
but in your anonymous blog
you rip me apart.
You press your thumb and forefinger on each side,
hold, pull and rend,
and rupture my very innards.
You focus on me,
my life, my words, my actions and my body
like you are a Celestron Telescope
searching for every single crater and irregularity.
With an Ultima Barlow lens
and your Leica M9 18MP
You grab each natural image
and then rearrange reality with
your precious, perversely pesuasive, periscopic Photoshop technique.
poetic liberty has leased you a license to assassinate,
humiliate,
decimate,
invalidate,
severely lambaste,
and mockingly castrate
everything that I identify as me.
literary freedom allows you to liberally fabricate,
mutilate,
denigrate,
incriminate,
scathingly castigate,
and maliciously urinate
on what others think of me.
To my face you are kind beyond selflessness,
but on your online beat,
your anonymous malevolence
sets you apart
from all the others
that have ever wanted
to write me up,
put me down,
and publish me out.
– Zumwalt (2011) (copied from www.zumpoems.com)
Aug 22, 2011
Aug 22, 2011 at 8:53 AM UTC
“looking back, we weren’t all that great for one another. you liked to be distant, i liked to overthink. you never told me what was wrong, i told you everything that was wrong. you were afraid of expectations, i expected to be loved the way i loved you.
i think even at the beginning i knew it may not quite work, but despite all our flaws i knew we had a spark, and i was determined to set that spark aflame. i fell in love with the idea of a flame that never came.”
Your lies charred holes that couldn’t be closed , who am I really convincing here , here at your every call I start to wither and fall , I’ve been running off an exhausted thought of you and me because every time I think of us I get a little stuck , you say you love me but her and her I cannot keep up with the way you love because the way you love and the way I love are two different ways I thought you could hang but it turns to play that every man will have his way
The way you smelted of liquor all day made me wanna go away even after all the failed attempts at asking I always tried to over communicate but I guess you really can’t change a man that doesn’t want to be changed. The way you held me late at night I thought that meant that you loved me the way I craved but deep down every day I knew I was deprived and my mind had to Play this game to convince myself that it was okay because you told me you loved
The power those words held over me especially when they fell from your lips made me paranoid and frayed until the very next day you would convince the thoughts to go away you had your way with my mind and it made me cave falling to my knees for your every praise , you put my brain in a haze trying to read every ****** maze but unfortunately I could never find my way
My brain on the constant train is he thinking of me or her , god the way you’re not willing to change has me in a hold for days, but it’s okay as soon as you say even tho my feelings are still astray something you’ll always try to invalidate , I don’t know why I continue to stay
Jun 25, 2022
Jun 25, 2022 at 1:28 PM UTC
I've always said that I don't need perfection
I need affection
Someone needs to invalidate my insecurities
They sting me and I hide them deep beneath skin
So deep that no one can seek them or sense them or touch them
I often ask myself why I don't have an official companion
A person who can love me and give me affection and make me happy
It sounds stupid because a lover doesn't make one happy
But I feel like I've crossed out every other thing on the list
Introspection?
They tell me I need to understand what and why and how
However the mere fact that I have thousands of words depicting my every emotion
Should mitigate this false sense of intelligence that a therapist has
I don't need someone to bring me flowers
Or chocolates or stuffed animals
I don't need to be given the world because I can get that on my own
But I do need someone to hug me and kiss me the way you do...when we're alone
And then I need that same person to be able to effectively communicate with me
I need them to understand the notion and the implications of a relationship
And I need them to be fully committed to making me a better person
And me making them a better person
Because once all of that happens, all I'll need is for them to love me
Love me
The real me
The person who is blunt and blatantly obvious
The person who can capture a room with intelligence
The person who hates the evils in the world
The person who doesn't believe in god
The person who cares about other people but has trouble showing it
The person who works for everything
The person who has suffered enough
The person who wants to be loved by you
And in some sense
It's been established that you can't love me
Simply because you don't
And that's fine even though it pains me deeply
But if it can't be you
And you not caring for me is true
Someone needs to sweep me away and love me for me
Because I believe in human nature and I also believe in Darwinism
But when it comes to me
Human nature and Darwinism are contradictory
Because human nature would be the act of two people loving each other for the sake of loving each other and wanting to be together
But Darwinism says that my genes are too weak to compete in the gene pool
Therefore it is difficult for one to seek my affection
Because it subliminally implies that we're seeking "a mate"
And I wouldn't be a good mate
A) because I have a chronic illness
B) I'm batshit crazy
So I don't even know what to do at this point
Maybe I was designed as a solo
Rather than a duet
That happens
It's a possibility
A horrible one
But the most hurtful thing right now
Is the idea that you may not love me
And you never will
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC
Your authority does not invalidate my opinion.
My voice exists.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 1:18 PM UTC
Your old body probably with a young soul
We're not so different you and me,
perhaps,
as I think I start to know how it feels,
clinging to the glory of the fountain of youth.
Yet what should be imparted wisdom doesn't come naturally,
it doesn't come certainly,
certainly doesn't come through your disapproving glances,
or through your continuous effort to invalidate the youngers.
Probably we're not so different you and me,
as I think I start to know the temptation,
the temptation of void self glorification,
a route I think created by the pestering need of self validation,
Yet I don't think I'd choose what you choose,
as much I would think I'm capable of,
I'd choose to learn,
rather than opposing the newborns
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
white smoke rolled out from betwixt parted lips, soft and pale
it rolled across the golden sand as it refracted under whispers
and the sun it billowed ‘cross, now blackened by the sea
whose waves did it invalidate with hopes and fears and dreams
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 2:49 AM UTC
I've been very vulnerable lately. I am vulnerable, and I'm not sure how to exist within it.
Well, see, society (what is it? It lives and breathes but is often undetected- like a cyborg) tells us that vulnerability = femininity, in order for both to mutually invalidate the other- because in a patriarchal society that feeds on myth, there is no room for either of them, as they provoke questions. But once you're out of the spectrum, things begin to change.
I'm beginning to view patriarchal systems of oppression as post-apocalyptic worlds - something which, through my interest in science fiction, is important and familiar to me. It makes this life seem equal parts more bearable and more gruesome, because, on one hand, nothing seems real, but on the other, everything appears to be hyper-realistic and predictive of some sort of massive disaster. Oftentimes I'm not sure which to side with.
I'm also keeping a journal of things that I do to make myself feel better & gendering them as society would just to see what I'm like inside. It's interesting to see that I'm a mixture of gendered behaviors, but that pain itself is not gendered.
My trans friend says that's contradictory. He believes that society exists purely without gender, intrinsically, and that since we create gender for ourselves as a means of oppression, I shouldn't be trying to figure out how I relate within that system, but rather attempting to break out of it.
But, hey- better the devil you know than the devil you don't, right?
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 11:01 AM UTC
You think you never
Cut the ******
Umbilical cord,
That i’m one hundred
And fifty pounds of
Walking baggage
That belongs to you.
I’m just your grown-up,
Beat up barbie doll,
With the limbs loose
And skin scarred:
A breathing toy.
You invalidate me
So you can have a
Perpetual platform,
A pedestal tarnished
By the scuffs of your
Dagger heels.
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 2:38 PM UTC
Stricken with, like fate.
Idolizing. Idealizing.
What makes it so?
Curiosity to obsession.
Obsession to love?
What is love?
Sought after, like gold.
Idolizing me.
Yet none to succeed but for a fleeting moment.
I envy those with their beloveds.
Even those whom have suffered loss, but still love.
Emptiness.
Craving the “good” feelings.
Like fantasies. Wanting someone who isn’t real.
Never to give wounds time to heal.
To invalidate, or embrace?
If I don’t know what is real
And if I don’t know who I am,
Do I follow my heart?
Or is naivety my wander?
What I seek is never mine to keep.
All stories are read, not written.
Not written by me.
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 10:46 AM UTC
maybe if I made you a number
it would invalidate you to me
you could be #3
I’ll say it’s because
our time difference
is three hours
I’m just thinking about you
and I wish that you’d call
or take any of my calls
or maybe I just wish that
you were as strong a person
as I thought you were
this poem is devolving
I am devolving
but thank you
for each injury
I’ll keep them in my pockets
like little prayers
that give me the strength you lack
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 4:58 AM UTC
They moved your district
So your vote goes astray
In order to invalidate you
In each and every way.
Stand up, America. Stand up.
Wise up, America. Stand up.
They point fingers at you
And call you ugly names
Demand your rights as equals
They ignore you just the same.
Stand up, America. Stand up.
Wise up, America. Stand up.
They tell us who to marry
And say must give birth
As if they were nobility
The queens of the earth.
Stand up, America. Stand up.
Wise up, America. Stand up.
They really only want us
To give them all our cash.
The rest of the time they will
Treat us all like trash.
Stand up, America. Stand up.
Wise up, America. Stand up.
It’s up to us America
They won’t stop on their own.
They make too much money
To leave our laws alone.
Big Business is paying them
To cheat us all to death
So, they will never stop
Until their dying breath.
Stand up, America. Stand up.
Wise up, America. Stand up.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 6:11 PM UTC
The United States of America has never been a democracy. Our Constitution, drafted and ratified in 1787, legalized slavery in all 13 nascent States. Eight of our presidents were slaveholders, including George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, who owned more the 600 slaves. Though the 13th Amendment legally abolished slavery in 1865, the KKK , founded also in 1865, began to flourish in the Deep South when U. S. troops were recalled in 1877. White Supremacists used a vicious range of deterrents to keep Blacks from voting: Deep South State constitutions and laws; poll taxes; literacy tests; the "grandfather clause"; and outright intimidation, including lynchings that occurred at their peak from 1890 to 1920. Today, Trump supporters have swept through almost all State legislatures "legalizing" myriad ways to keep minorities from voting, as well as other ways to invalidate their votes. In addition to brutalizing Blacks throughout our nation's history, we must not forget the genocide perpetrated by our government against indigenous peoples who had populated the continent for millennia, culminating between 1860 and 1890 with the coup de grace of Wounded Knee. "Manifest Destiny" was not democracy. It was manifest inhumanity.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jan 4, 2022
Jan 4, 2022 at 2:39 PM UTC
Puckered like your sweet and sour apple agitation
drowned down by your wine turned vinegar libation
armed with a guilt-driven sorry that topples nations
made clean of ****** hands bleached self-justification
today is the day that I give it all away
when tomorrow is today I will pray and I will say
if fate is this path, then from this path I will stray
sometimes in lies we often find the truth
sometimes in opinion we often find the proof
sometimes you're only intimate when you're most aloof
every time you watch the clock you feel the loss of youth
today is the day that I gave it all away
when tomorrow is today I will pray and I will say
until yesterday is tomorrow and today is a week from may
don't try and passify, invalidate and spin
don't hesitate, pontificate and everybody wins
don't just focus on the obvious
it's not just me so it must be us
i'll wait in the car, don't make a fuss
until yesterday is tomorrow and today is a bust
Jul 10, 2011
Jul 10, 2011 at 12:39 PM UTC
My secret
Will it jump out of me
Before I can catch it with cupped hands
And rock it back to sleep?
All I want to do
Is tell them
Tell everyone I love
Everyone who I so desperately want to accept me
That I like girls
And I like boys
But somehow the two seem to
Invalidate each other.
I will be ostracized in the conservative community
Of my small republican county
As well as in my very Presbyterian church and home.
And yet,
I would not be accepted fully among the queer community.
Sometimes I wonder
Why don't I just make my life easier
And ignore my feelings for girls?
I wish it was truly that easy.
It struggles and squirms in my body
As if to scream
"Get me out of here!"
If only coming out
Was actually an option.
But at this current moment
In my household
In my school
It is not.
So I guess I will continue to be
Bisexual, pansexual
Whatever the hell I am
In the comforts of my bedroom.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
Out there the world is freezing and you're all alone.
The silent whispers of dying firewood, and the howling of the wolves haunt your troubled sleep.
Eyes blood red, tossing and turning in your bed,
pretty colors and savage voices soaring in your head,
you burn, burn, burn , a salvaged wreck.
With passion no doubt, a flaming torch does reside within, powering through your weakness. Your hungry eyes and starry mind can't keep you from touching suns as bright as white as your soul.
You sacrifice for altruism, nobody cares.
You fight for peace , they all wreak havoc.
They say forget it grow up. They invalidate your pain your suffering.
Yet You still stand. With broken legs and bleeding eyes you stand.
Almighty are the oaks that look to you for answers.
All doubting are the ones that believe your truth.
But you still standing sway.
Because nobody sees your freezing lips and trembling fingers,
nobody hears your screaming heart.
You stand in the midst of great shadows and desperately need a hand.
Te amo te amo it resonates in your ears
te quiero, te odio feeding off of your fears, so you jump, and you skip, and your madness spins, and again, and again,
the Devil wins.
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 1:58 AM UTC
To the kind hearted who invalidate their humanity-
This is to you,
To the mom’s and dad’s of your friend groups,
To the shoulders to cry on,
To the empaths who put smiles on everyone around them,
To those who feel the need to apologize for having bad days.
You, are human.
Do not deny yourself that.
You are kind, reliable, strong, beautiful, caring, and human.
I love this about you. I love that when I am hurting, when I can not stand on my own, that you are there for me.
Yet, this is not the only reason I love you.
You, do not always have to be strong.
You, do not always have to smile.
You, do not always have to hide how you are really feeling for the sake of those around you-
and certainly not for me.
Please.
Feel.
Feel everything you have the privilege to.
Every single person on this planet has bad days; Everybody has moments in their life where they don’t feel their best, where they feel weak, or tired, or frustrated, or upset, or depressed.
These moments, are not flaws. These seconds, minutes, hours, or days are not burdens. They are not something you must apologize for.
Life is not easy.
Being happy all the time is not a requirement.
Being true to yourself, is.
If you are angry, scream. If you are sad, cry. If you are frustrated, tug at your hair and look to the sky. Know that I am here for you. Know that I want to be there for you, just as you are always there for me.
You are human and you will have these moments where nothing seems light or easy. But, you are not alone in these.
These feelings are not black holes ripping you from all of us.
These feelings are not pulling you to the bottom of the ocean while we float.
These feelings- do not make us question our affections towards you.
Your feelings, every last one of them, are valid.
Do not doubt in your ability to feel, and do not think that doing so will leave you lonesome.
Feeling, now that, is strength.
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 12:42 PM UTC