"mannish" poems
He always wanted to be a ballerina
To dance so dainty up on his toes.
But everyone could see under his tutu
And the bump they saw was not his nose.
He had the talent and the perfect figure
To perform the balletic steps just right.
There was no way he could ever manage
To keep that ample package out of sight.
Jete, jete. Plie, Plie.
Dance like that’s all you want to do.
Dancing straight, or dancing gay,
Do whatever is right for you.
Hands and toes pointed fine
Back and necks held straight.
Maybe it’s not your time to get picked.
But make it worth their wait.
His skin was smooth just like a swaddling baby
There was no concern about flat *******
Many ballerinas are rather mannish
With not much curvature to their chests.
So he could pass completely undetected
Androgyny was his great good friend
But any moment when he swirled about
Tutu would lift and then spell the spell would end.
Jete, jete. Plie, Plie.
Dance like that’s all you want to do.
Dancing straight, or dancing gay,
Do whatever is right for you.
Hands and toes pointed fine
Back and necks held straight.
Maybe it’s not your time to get picked.
But make it worth their wait.
He never really loved the danseur posture
The holds and lifts and hearty leaps about.
But in the world of ballet and its leaders
Ballerina guys are always left out.
Still he danced in tutu at auditions.
He heard the comments, paid them no mind.
If they could not see grandly male Pavlova
That meant that all of them were blind.
Jete, jete. Plie, Plie.
Dance like that’s all you want to do.
Dancing straight, or dancing gay,
Do whatever is right for you.
Hands and toes pointed fine
Back and necks held straight.
Maybe it’s not your time to get picked.
But make it worth their wait.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
Hopeful maiden,
Mistress of cotillions,
Depthless, devoid of culture,
Unquestioning, incurious,
Seeks her warrior-beast-of-burden,
A man's man, a sportsman of sorts,
Yet sensitive and without ego,
A staunch provider,
Seeking beauty for its own sake,
A coy, coltish fawn, un-artful,
Un-fawning, who cannot keep a house,
Hold her tongue nor navigate
Social gatherings, one whose passion
Is only on offer, never proffered,
She seeks an old fashioned man
Who appreciates her
Mannish manner and business
Acumen— artists, musicians,
And above all penurious poets
Need not apply, I wish
To learn to cook one fashionable
Day, I am working on
Being famous, it is such
A burden being lovely,
Beautiful.
Are all the good
Men Married? Gay?
Professional athletes,
A-list actors, incarcerated
Felons wanted, perfect
Listeners needed,
Kryptonians preferred.
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC
Hopeful maiden,
Mistress of cotillions,
Depthless, devoid of culture,
Unquestioning, incurious,
Seeks her warrior-beast-of-burden,
A man's man, a sportsman of sorts,
Yet sensitive and without ego,
A staunch provider,
Seeking beauty for its own sake,
A coy, coltish fawn, un-artful,
Un-fawning, who cannot keep a house,
Hold her tongue nor navigate
Social gatherings, one whose passion
Is only on offer, never proffered,
She seeks an old fashioned man
Who appreciates her
Mannish manner and business
Acumen— artists, musicians,
And above all penurious poets
Need not apply, I wish
To learn to cook one fashionable
Day, I am working on
Being famous, it is such
A burden being lovely,
Beautiful.
Are all the good
Men Married? Gay?
Professional athletes,
A-list actors, incarcerated
Felons wanted, perfect
Listeners needed,
Kryptonians preferred.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 8:48 PM UTC
I singe with a hertly lud whan ycham herty,
And I arme whan singinge is ne ynewe.
Carole whan my corage blissieth,
And I shal deye whan his blase deyeth.
Druerie shal be his a-brune billets.
A stable blase that shal sustene my spyrakles.
A schrewe destroyere that kesseth so dimliche.
A þeauful kempe with an as-spire swerde.
Gostes of i-þank als ouer my vingeres.
Al-only dulce conceiptes fletene in my gostes.
Sumdel real cannot be als amaddinge.
Sumdel real cannot be te-tealte!
Is the mannish þonc als mase and puissant
Sweuenen of suic a selkout conand?
Dest Moder Folde cune of hire child?
Hire misty doter who berne and bilde?
The hoom is not where the herte is.
The herte is the hoom bote motif
The herte, the hoom, the ende, and the sepulture.
A luft who is the mest derure in the Folde.
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 11:02 AM UTC
The mannish boy I am
the boy you see before you stand
unless you hear the cry
you could'nt understand
you cannot see
for you
do not believe
as I stand right here
right here before you
you refuse to see
depiction
restriction
inside our crucifiction
as our lord let us live
oh' he let us live
but not with him
only within'
if that is what you wish
but is that what you wish ?
his eyes is of sadness
for we, the people
are the murderes of sin
born to good and evil
saints of insanity
devils of reality
so why do we keep
on forgetting
for the rest of our lives
Our words are but codes
to emotions as we feel
can you decipher mine
can you feel what I feel
grasp what you may,
I cannot promise you tomorrow, only today..
and with that - we yearn for a way
an insight to our lives
gained through heartache and pain
so I ask again
do you feel what I feel
my lover, my mother, my lord and my friend
whichever you are
may you enrich
may you seed and sow
with the tears of the rain
from above and down below
for all is known in the shade of light
the shade of light will shine bright
on the promised night
but only for you
and those who hold the truth
insight
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
Hopeful maiden,
Mistress of cotillions,
Depthless, devoid of culture,
Unquestioning, incurious,
Seeks her warrior-beast-of-burden,
A man's man, a sportsman of sorts,
Yet sensitive and without ego,
A staunch provider,
Seeking beauty for its own sake,
A coy, coltish fawn, un-artful,
Un-fawning, who cannot keep a house,
Hold her tongue nor navigate
Social gatherings, one whose passion
Is only on offer, never proffered,
She seeks an old fashioned man
Who appreciates her
Mannish manner and business
Acumen— artists, musicians,
And above all penurious poets
Need not apply, I wish
To learn to cook one fashionable
Day, I am working on
Being famous, it is such
A burden being lovely,
Beautiful.
Are all the good
Men Married? Gay?
Professional athletes,
A-list actors, incarcerated
Felons wanted, perfect
Listeners needed,
Kryptonians preferred.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
Hopeful maiden,
Mistress of cotillions,
Depthless, devoid of culture,
Unquestioning, incurious,
Seeks her warrior-beast-of-burden,
A man's man, a sportsman of sorts,
Yet sensitive and without ego,
A staunch provider,
Seeking beauty for its own sake,
A coy, coltish fawn, un-artful,
Un-fawning, who cannot keep a house,
Hold her tongue nor navigate
Social gatherings, one whose passion
Is only on offer, never proffered,
She seeks an old fashioned man
Who appreciates her
Mannish manner and business
Acumen— artists, musicians,
And above all penurious poets
Need not apply, I wish
To learn to cook one fashionable
Day, I am working on
Being famous, it is such
A burden being lovely,
Beautiful.
Are all the good
Men Married? Gay?
Professional athletes,
A-list actors, incarcerated
Felons wanted, perfect
Listeners needed,
Kryptonians preferred.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
She is who she says she is
Perhaps in another time
Her muscles rippled with a mannish gleam
And her labors where of the masculine
Herculean
But now she is feminine
Concealing her strength
Beneath soft garments
Concealing her past
Under a new name
Genevieve
Who was once Gene
Now is free to be
Who she wants to be
The rooster
Becomes a phantom limb
Split and turned in
Sleeping
How freeing
For her outsides
To match how
She feels within
Thick lips strong chin
Broad shoulder
Deep voice
I am fascinated
It never bothered me
In fact I saw it beautifully
Variety in humanity
Why should you be
Bothered
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 7:55 AM UTC
She who summons those songbirds with ease
- will be - in each life - much too good for me;
- though, - a mean, mannish boy can dream
- bout' those eyes that shimmer an' gleam.
Yay!
Tis' early April - an' I've proven myself a fool
- for I'm dreaming bout' that glimmering jewel.
Nay!
The things I do dream : they may not ever be
- but I refuse ta' let my blind eyes know they can't see.
---
So -- even still - I continue to dream
- an' stay, so ignorantly, full o' glee.
---
*I am, but, a fool.
Yay - one who'll
- stay adoring
- that glimmering jewel
- o' a human being.*
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
monkey DNA rules the landside
multitudes of dudes
rally around the ranch hands
planning to take stands
against stands of trees
standing tall
light refracts
bending ever so
giving the low lying foliage
full spectrum—
apelike in their motions
and communicating only in grunts
suspendered stewards stake claims
on the Sycamore
for more money
moreover,
eyes shine on the falling pine –
mannish flexing
droplets of sweat
stack rack of sweet smelling fir slats
binge drinking between filling bins
train cars destined for ports
shipping the soil's children
to the impoverished and underdeveloped –
aged tycoons
rest scabby elbows
on traditional oak armrests
seated near the mahogany footed desk lamp
just to the left of a little cedar box containing cigars –
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
Her whole world was spinning
And her hair was thinning
She creaked like the pliers that she
Would use on her brow
And to wrench up her frown
And the chorus would sing out of key
La la la lai and her waist and her thighs
Soon sighed and relaxed their firm hold
La la la hey and she steamed for she ate
And did everything that she was told
But naught was regarded
As dearly departed, from
A vantage the damage was void
But for that mannish girl
With muddy-water curls
She felt destruction on her was employed
Perhaps it was her,
Why all this occurred
And her head faced her heart in a round
A series of moves
And she's further removed
And the choir shrieks another round
La la la lai and her hands and her eyes
Both twitch and scrape to react
La la la hey and she'd hiss and she'd cry
If that ****** voice inside hadn't cracked
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
I was born in a town
In the U.S. of A.
I grew up in this town
Thought I could stay
Well I could, But I can't
Seems the times, they have changed
Can someone direct me
Towards english again
On the billboards I read
Everything's in Spanish
Bikini clad ladies
Men looking so mannish
I'm not on vacation
in Argentina
Though, some would think that
If they checked out the scenery
Excuse me Dear President
I don't mean to pry
But, ten million more what?
Who, when, how and why?
This changing of nation
Just has to stop
Can we open are eyes now
or are we on ***
They talk about borders
in California
Then how is this happening
Here in New Jersey
I am not a hater
But, what the patader
Is happening here
In the country I love dear
I would like to move
Where the words are in English
Translations not needed
Too much of a request?
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 3:11 PM UTC
Where is thine innocence of youth?
Wherein snap lover's booth's are make out sessions to an hour or more!!!
A child to mannish slavery,
A relapse to ****** engravery,
So tight-nit away at home!!!
Hidden from all advantages,
A-new for the next time to partaker of the token line!!!
So much low incomed time management!!!
Thyself let's other's to leave thou alone,
Doth thou calleth that abandonment?
Induce thy herd of jackal's,
Around the pit they crackle like the insect's they really are,
Some try to get close, whilst the team thou pushed for skeletons of painful memories,
Thy tendencies overlead thy time written words!!!
Skeptic lover thou,
Chooseth a brother,
For even he can't crawl past thy skin!!!
Quaver for appetetic destruction,
Wherein a sensual luncheon's bound to take place!!!
Smile queen,
For its all a dream,
In the northern part of the state!!!!
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
Free men beg.
Incarcerated men begs more.
Especially when they need the service of their woman.
Money on the books.
For her to accept his calls.
If he was a dog he be sitting with his paws out.
But as soon as he free.
Back to a mannish dog he's would be.
Except not begging until he hear that door go cling.
Free men beg for pleasure.
To them , a woman is a worthy treasure.
Then some free men needs too.
Especially those getting caught trying to use.
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 5:37 PM UTC
All bull and brass.
Ready to stomp your *** and
talk to you while doing it.
He would never start one
Kinda slow to anger too.
Thirteen and Yolked like an Ox.
Strong.
They stretched his neck in Texas
when he was twenty.
On a bogus charge.
Unfulfilled potential.
The boy was an A student too.
Please and thank you.
Women loved him. Men wanted to
be him.
Written.
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 10:04 AM UTC
*Sometimes I'm the flood light drawing flies
Sometimes I'm the shadow fending off the night
Polished , debonair and inquiring
Repugnant , standoffish and dying
Counting the stars on a flag
The panels on a wood floor
One day a publican
One day a mannish *****
I feel like one day the gun will be loaded-
when I decide to test immortality
I long to leave this pile of corrupted flesh
Follow the sun west then disappearing over someone's
picturesque horizon* ..
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 10:16 PM UTC
being alone never hurt anybody. I ask online about a coat hanger. in person about a stork. symbolism is dead. it’s not that kind of garden.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 8:36 PM UTC