"misconceptions" poems
Do not let
them
overshadow your beauty
with
misconceptions.
Everyone is beautiful,
believe me-
I know.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
Quick break-up Senryus.
Pick one to quickly, cut that
relationship cord:
I'm sorry, What'd you say?
I can't hear you (confused look)
- we’re breaking up.
You’re the guy that
every girl at our school wants
- it's their lucky day.
It's time that we took
our relationship to the
previous level.
I still cherish the
initial misconceptions
I had about you.
.
.
Songs for this:
Love on the Rocks by Lizzie Mintz
Lovefool by The Cardigans
Nothing Can Stop Us by Saint Etienne
Forever by X-Cetra
Sep 5, 2025
Sep 5, 2025 at 9:54 PM UTC
My my, what a special little snowflake.
Why did you choose to be this way?
You chose to be different, you chose to rebel.
No binary for me!
You chose the grief, the pain.
You chose this abuse, bruised by
the verbal ferociousness, forged by physical fallacies
To be thrown out of bathrooms
because doing your business in the bathroom is abysmal.
You chose to be derided by decisive discrimination.
You chose to be murdered by misconceptions,
***** by ridiculous requirements.
You chose to be beaten, assaulted.
You chose the words I weave to weaken your will.
You chose the sacred sermons I spit at you.
You chose to be
What I find disgusting, despicable
because you chose to be what you aren't,
but I realize what I really regard you to be.
My my, what a special little bigot.
You think I chose to be this way?
You think
I chose the injuring, injustice,
the jester, the joke
the target, tortured,
This pain, my poison,
the prey, praying,
the sinner of sins so bittersweet,
So I could be "special"?
Special isn't a sacrifice of physical self
Nor the gunshots and gruesome grief
Nor even the crass comfort of a half-assed comrade.
You think I CHOSE this,
and you didn't choose
to spit and spew your sour speeches
to disperse your disgust in discrimination
to integrate your ignorance into my existence.
Or did you not choose
to deal the abuse
by your hand
yourself?
My special little bigot,
You live as you are.
So be it, if I am so "special", the special little snowflake.
Yes, we are the little snowflakes that your palm's presence melts away,
And you're that burning persistence of life
Blocking with your own self our slow, wistful descent,
As if it were futility and not of your own will.
If I am the snowflake, you are the fire.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
Misconceptions
Fasley smiles
Psychoanalyzed
Could it be my OCDish
Would they agree or disagree
Respectfully - with no referee
Whatever matter - It doesn’t
Let it be
I’m carefree
It’s the best defense
Not a draftee
A perfectionist I am
It stems from many forces
My moral sense
At any expense
Not remorses
Their sweet jabs
From the start
Yes
From day one
Like Mr. Shukar - they see
I'm the new prospect
My disposition in scrutiny
As I take in with fluency
No unity
Let it be
I’ll take it in my dome
Its my best cover
Not styrofoam
I'll take it whichever way it's thrown
Please...
Pass the twisted news along
I continue staying strong
Detail-oriented is my syndrome
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 2:55 PM UTC
I cried at the breakfast table this morning
my father carefully explained,
"wives must be submissive to their husbands"
"housecleaning is the domain of the woman"
"God created woman because man asked for a partner"
This past semester I wrote two papers
One, a fire and brimstone sermon
I quoted Anais Nin
sending the creators of sexist commercials to eternal suffering
**** them!" I said. "May they burn in hell."
For the women they portrayed were doormats
Misconceptions
Monsters
The other, the role of women in the 1920s,
No longer confined to the kitchen
they dropped ballots with their new freedom
they wore short dresses and short tresses
fingers wrapped around cigs
they quoted Wilde instead of Alcott
they danced until their feet hurt
I read of Anais Nin's "new woman,"
her partnership, not submission to man,
I craved a room of my own, neigh demanded it
For sheep stayed in the kitchen,
The Woolf had a study.
I read poetry
Sexton,
Plath,
I wept for their starved, depressed selves
caged, suffocating inside the clasped hands of a man.
Loved like rib-cage jails.
Adrienne Rich made me angry,
her daughter-in-law
forever trying to fit into a box
she was always too big for, spilling
at the edges, her shaved
legs like "white mammoth tusks"
I was finally
happy with my womanhood.
****** ****** ***** ********
they are mine.
******* free to move unrestrained,
jiggling under my shirt.
Wetness between my thighs.
Menstrual blood,
they are mine.
mine.
I am not ashamed of what I am
because there is no shame.
I am woman,
I am girl,
I am lady.
I am a creature
with a voice
a mind.
a creature who endured much abuse,
continue to endure.
I am woman
and I don't have to be wife or mother
unless I want to be.
I was not created for man;
I was created for the same reason he was,
to serve the same great purpose on this tiny blue dot.
I am not rib.
I am ****** ****** ***** ********
******* free, unrestrained,
Wetness between my thighs.
Menstrual blood,
I am a per.
I am a wo.
I am a hu.
Man and son need to back down,
collaborate not dominate,
speak not command,
for when less are forced into silence,
the maddening scream
hidden inside skin and bones and muscle-meat
becomes song.
this world of car horns and tire screeches
crying and wailing from raw throats
angry protests of indignation
could use a little music.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
This world
filled with so many lies and misconceptions,
I find it hard to thrive, hard to make meaningful connections.
Life constantly focused on money, what to buy, on endless consumption,
is not a life I want to live, and is one that I'll eventually walk away from.
For now, like most, I endure; life enjoyed is seldom.
Just trying to be myself,
trying not to lose my mind in this ****** up conundrum
we call society.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 8:49 PM UTC
the desert heat surrounds me
my mind slowly baking
for the moment i am free
my mortal vessel aching
as my soul grasps at fatal misconceptions
a mystic door left ajar
locked in a state of introspection
i stare into myself from afar
all these colors all these things
what do they mean
to mirages we cling
a cryptic reality remains unseen
passed off as a silly whim of youth
neither tears of woe nor tears of bliss
these are the tears of truth
brought by knowledge's sweet kiss
ask me not why i cry
ask yourself "how too may i?"
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Despite some misconceptions
And attacks
Endure for centuries
By us blacks
Let me lay down
Some unknown facts
How ‘bout we start with
Henrietta Lacks
For most of us
After our death
Other than memories
What else is left?
For our survivors
The bereft
Yet her cells live on
It’s a matter of theft
From Henrietta’s
Cancerous cells
A bold idea
Suddenly jells
Spawning cures for cancer
As her biographer tells
And in vitro fertilization
Other things as well
Science took complete advantage
Of her cells
Which they still manage
Though she died of cervical cancer
Her cells provided them
With the answer
To scientific mystery
Check out her cells history
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017. All rights reserved.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 12:25 PM UTC
I fight with my twin.
You struggle with the scales.
We’re both torn this time
and love won’t prevail.
My opposite, my doppelganger, my sister
And you can balance but it won’t fix us.
What you seek I can’t give away easily
and what I need you won’t give to me.
My what an astrological web of disaster we have woven.
Think fondly of me, my Libra Lover.
Jul 6, 2011
Jul 6, 2011 at 4:59 AM UTC
the way i smiled outside
is the opposite of how i cry inside
the pain left me hanging
i couldn’t take it anymore
the pressure they all gave me
the thoughts and misconceptions
the society fed me
kept being toxic
all my efforts
were nothing but trash
i seemed unnoticed
and silently i waited for someone
to hear how much myself peaked at
that metal mask that hides
my identity
i talked about my flaws
at the mirror
shouting how much
sorrow i’ve been through
seeing my bloodshot red eyes
kept me wondering
am i that pitiful?
i am that small thing
in the big perfectionist world
i couldn’t accept myself
so i torn it apart
and left every bits and pieces
of the real me
i kept using all these
makeups skincare pills
just to hide the past
but it wasn’t enough
the expectations were as high as the skies
and i was on earth
i put all my best
but it still wasn’t enough
the oceans in my eyes
shows how much i’ve suffered all throughout
the years of judgement in the pits of hell
i am sorry for being sad
been always sorry
will always be sorry
for being who i am.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 9:34 AM UTC
I'm just a pool table floating through the cosmos,
a snail racing in the indie 500.
I'm a mess, ******* on dirt, lying in a basement,
the Click! Now that I have mastered the click I can free my mind of all misconceptions.
I'm a grubby snail person.
Dos Bros Tacos,
served with a hard shell.
I'm a cigarette, trying to hold water in my mouth, and you're a jar, trying to make me spit it out.
I'm a vegan, with primordial urges,
a user, with blood rush surges.
I'm matter, quickly vibrating,
an organic compound, slowly decaying.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 12:34 AM UTC
they say a goldfish has a memory of only a few seconds
and I think, how lovely, to love and forget
a hundred times a day.
but the wikipedia page on common misconceptions says really
their memory lasts up to several months.
Well if I could forget you every 30 days
that would suffice for me.
Wikipedia doesn’t say whether goldfish
even have the capacity to love
but if they do
it must be often, and sweet, and forgiving
unlike me
who gets hurt once
and never forgets.
at least not this month.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 7:37 PM UTC
Contentment is the greatest evil in the human grab bag of emotions.
It’s born out of the head of ignorance,
it resides in the heart of the blind.
It manifests its evil doctrine of passiveness throughout the body,
until fully enslaved by inaction.
It turns agents into sun tanners,
activists into office workers,
outlaws into accountants.
It puts preservatives into culture, it laminates laws,
it places crowns on faceless leaders.
It slaps a smile across the ***** the beaten, the neglected,
the racially profiled.
It mutes news casts,
veils the homeless man that lives behind office buildings,
glorifies the paycheck.
It makes the walls of homes seem bullet, terror, bomb,
corruption, and death proof.
It allows sleep at night,
it kills the monsters under the bed and the ghosts in the closet.
It causes hundreds of thousands of suffering people to simply, disappear.
It insures, “birds like to be caged,”
and “pain is just part of the human condition.”
It whispers these misconceptions
like a priest insuring his congregation of the power of Jesus. Contentment, you see, corrupts the very concept of progress.
Progress is deemed by the million-pieces-of-paper-owners to be founded in terms of economy.
Progress is deemed by the people-who-stop-us-from-returning-to-state-of-nature to be founded in terms of control.
Progress has forgotten it’s maker,
just as dying old men forget that they were once bounced on a loving knee.
Contentment leaks from the Western world
and infects all those around it.
When you are no longer content
you will begin to see the holes in the patchwork of life,
and wonder how it was you hadn’t seen them before.
When you are no longer content, you will at last demand change.
Dec 23, 2010
Dec 23, 2010 at 9:09 PM UTC
It is not me
I am not bad
These misconceptions
Make me mad
The media frenzy
Blame the breed
The Staffy curse
Is sad to read
They don’t report
The positive things
The love we give
The joy we bring
We might be strong
And made of muscles
But we love our hugs
And playful tussles
We are devoted
With massive hearts
We run away form
Our smelly farts
If you know
A Staffy well
You’ll understand
My need to tell
We are not monsters
We are not evil
We are not savage
Or dogs of the devil
We are quite simply
Man’s best friend
Loyal and true
Right till the end
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 11:08 PM UTC
The melodious voice, her silent voice.
Is nothing but a harsh reality of your choice.
Shutting her up and putting her down,
Doesn't give you a wise man's crown.
She who out of love performed every act of abnegation,
She is the one, the true sensation.
How could you be so insensitive to not hear?
So much she said through the eyes in tear.
For love and respect today she whines,
Despite your ruthless nature, with her love, you, she binds.
Maybe you don't know,
Even in dark she can glow.
She can extend the unforgiving minute,
Her strength and purity has no limit.
She standing on earth has reached the stars and sky,
Still in misconceptions you are high.
Open your eyes, your heart, your soul!
You're nobody to charge on her life any toll.
Do not underestimate this silent voice,
Her unsaid is heard even in the noise.
When this silent voice will come out of its shell,
Will that be the time when you'll ring a bell?
Today the voice is silent.
Tomorrow, my friend, it might be violent.
One who has brought you on this earth,
Don't dare to consider her as dirt.
Silently she can give you the pain of your life,
She is nobody but your mother, daughter or wife.
Her silent voice is loudest everywhere.
Her absence you won't be able to bear.
So from today, begin to care.
Wise man's crown then you'll wear.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
With strength and hope I embrace the facts of my existance
all restraints have been removed, no more holding back zero resistance
free to ascend to the higher levels that I have always strived
much sooner than I ever planned here I am, I have arrived
through the lies, misconceptions and conformity I have risen above it all
strong and confident moving forward I am walking tall
free to be who ever I want at any moment if I choose
making up the rules of life as I go, no way I can lose
so if you pass me in the street and I seem out of place
it's because that is where I want to be with a smirk on my face
not because I am better than anyone or better than you
it's that I have realized that I am free to do anything I have ever wanted to
Jan 28, 2011
Jan 28, 2011 at 1:40 AM UTC
I often fall into this trap.
This trap of seeing things that other people have and thinking I should have those things too.
The trap of inadequacy as opportunities seem to bypass me.
I sink into this pitfall of perceptions that scream to me how I should look, behave, what I should have, and how I should BE.
All of it being mostly lies and at best misconceptions.
I had to learn to accept acceptance,
That I am who I am meant to be.
Outside influence no longer clouds my thought, and I begin to enjoy life as I step out of a place between being too critical of the past, and too engrossed in the future.
The fact that I am here is evidence enough that there is a place and a purpose to my destiny.
I am here because this is where I belong.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 1:02 AM UTC
It was a chance meeting, I knew not what was ahead,
random walks, conversations, coffees and smokes,
days into nights and then early mornings...
chances random and make believe,
hints, assumptions, misconceptions and conditions.
I wanted to but couldn't see behind the blur.
It was too eerie when i came out all alone,
but I could see you across the road.
You held my hand till I was safe.
You let go when I wanted to not...
Days diluting into painful night times,
actions tormenting, waves of coldness.
Through months, often shivering,
crying, running back to you.
Dejected, lonely, you'd hold me,
take away all my pain.
Sometimes, you would cause it,
the rain would howl and cry...
There was a sudden change of heart,
you wanted more sunshine than rain,
no tears, coming close again,
tongue-tied, lip-locked joys...
In a blink of an eye, you vanished.
Punishing me for sins undone.
Thorned and unloved i hold on...
the void takes up all the space...
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 2:30 PM UTC
You should do this,
You should do that,
Why these diktats I do not understand.
Are we living our life to comply?
Are not we here to supply.
Why we are to be part of some creed,
When in reality we all are from the same seed.
We are stuck in a whirlpool of sanctions,
And I do not know how to come out of this expansion.
Expectations are defining our life more than existence do,
And the biggest question humanity is asking
what should I do?
We are blaming history for our misconceptions,
Naming presumptions as The inceptions.
How we are going to move ahead,
When we are becoming a body with just a head,
Shedding our humanity for a mere piece of bread.
We are the creation and creators of our world,
All of us is an existence a real thing,
Our creativity is our ability to think.
Then why should we be like someone,
When we could be anyone.
I want to holler out at the world with this answer
Yes, we can
Because we are not endowed with a taste
We have a whole Selection.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 2:43 AM UTC
I have to try and keep my chin up and my head held high, among people that only want to rip me down.
I'm nothing but a side show in their pathetic lives
Please return to your seats the show is about to begin.
And they all lean forward with their eyes on the prize
Their deviance is no longer in disguise.
Looks like friendship, but is only lies to keep themselves entertained for awhile.
Pull at the dangling veins where my heart used to be,
Please stop pulling, I'm begging you, set me free.
For your own entertainment
For your own joy
I am not just some disposable toy.
I've never been more hurt than the pain I feel now
While you eat your own **** I've taken my head out of the clouds.
You can **** with me all you want, but nothing is going to change.
I've got rage like a lion, and I'm looking for prey.
I won't even eat your body, I want to watch it decay.
My anger isn't centered, it's in different directions
**** all you mother ******* and your misconceptions.
I'm tired of this, you can go eat ****
Because when I find you, next thing is your dead body in a ditch.
**** your rumors, **** your lies
You're all enemies in disguise.
Giving nothing, Wanting all
I can't wait to watch you fall
Into the darkness, just like me
Oh, wont you keep me company?
Your brown nose tells me yes
So you like when I'm a mess?
Sadistic mother ******* all of you are guilty.
Stop looking at my hands when yours are ******* filthy.
I'm done with these death games you play
You can have each other, I'm not going to stay.
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 11:09 AM UTC
Leashed by loves lynch till I’m dropped by my lack of respect for the beauty’s presence
Thank god she wasn’t curbside taking tips with perked lips for a stranger’s ****** fix,
But I needed to feel the evidence that the pieces fit,
That’s why this is about me and a barstool princess
Getting close enough to taste the moans of vodka’s venom
Get close enough so I can know my needs can be fulfilled
Like a lunar eclipse this species keeps grinding its teeth when teased
Time and time again we’ve been taunted by,
The mistress our ancestors once described as the serpent of Eve,
When procreation was preached as an STD
Yet we’ve been perpetually pivoting,
To defy the chastity of a species
Grandfathered misconceptions relating to why you and I exist
As wickedness warms in the covers of the lustfully parallel
So let’s drown in this bliss,
From head to toe, eye caught, grazes at the nose,
From the bar stool to a lonely man’s home,
From one dollar tips for two *** and cokes
To the bedroom of this writing,
The nights like this, that remind me I am alone
But this isn’t about me loathing the fact that I won’t hear her whispering for more body warmth,
Nor am I looking for you to pity me because I’ll be sleeping solo
Enough is enough since we are humans seeking ****** catacombs
I’ll try to be an adult about how the human molds but it started me at childhood,
When those that conceptualized love gave me this world,
And now I no longer have to listen to what I’ve been told
This is about how to perceive something we can never truly control,
Lucky enough to avoid a contraceptive despite unable to remember the doctor’s pull,
Its night’s like this I get to question,
When will my sheets meet the perfect fit?
When will this be more than just a humanizing fix?
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 12:41 AM UTC
Walking contradiction that has lost his validation, so now he sits alone in condemnation. Frustration seeps in, demons live in his head, praying to God that if he could just be dead.
Contradiction is his addiction, worthless to this affliction, hypocritical cynical pessimist that has lost the will to hold affection. Stressing on frivolous things, don't know what voices to believe in, so he does his own thing which in some peoples eyes is a sin.
Believe in a deity as the scream at him, on the picket fence, feels like he has no purpose, his fate seems dim. Labelled by humans, no better than a pig getting sent to the slaughter, or a innocent man sent to prison on the charges of man slaughter.
Walking contradiction, wants to do more for society because he no longer wants to play the victim. Held back by himself and by others, scolded as inhuman by racists that define everything about him just based on his colour.
Left with an illusion that he has a voice, that he has a choice, that he can be himself, that he can live happy and rejoice, that he doesn't have to live in chaos. Fading out and fading in, wanting to give in, but he is stubborn, he won't be easily seduced to be part of society's whim.
Isolated, so complicated, lost in monotony, people say he has a purpose, but he feels like he an anomaly. A mistake, a freak of nature, he know's it's not good to keep in anger, but how else could one act if all their life they have been deemed a stranger. People say he doesn't have scars but they don't look on the inside, they just see his outward appearance, no wonder he always confide's with thoughts of suicide.
Convictions that depict him as a nobody, restricted from playing with others because he isn't a somebody. Walking contradiction thats causes friction with everybody, flooding over misconceptions as if he were a tsunami. They tried to break him, they tried to make him into something else, but if they think he will conform they are mistaken.
Walking contradiction, hypocritical and honest, doesn't care about making a profit, he just wants to demolish and astonish people's thinking like he's a rhythmical prophet.
How do I know all of this? Well to be frank the man i'm talking about is me, but don't worry I have come along way as you can see. I have become better and healthier than the kid I used to be, more mature than the teen with insecurities, I have become a man that has fortified his integrity.
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 6:23 PM UTC
Dear trolls,
Just so you know, your comments don't mean much.
You think you know something to be true.
Well hate to break it to you, but you're wrong.
Everything you think you know is way off base.
I thought I should let you know.
We do this for entertainment sake.
So be confused but don't hate.
Sincerely,
Bexis
P.S. This is a poetry site not Facebook it should be about the art.
P.S.S I like tacos
P.S.S.S Hi!
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 10:54 AM UTC
♀↵ϖ†∅↨⊕☺☼↑↓
Apples will be cantaloupes
depending on their nurture;
and so I cherish rainbow hopes
for our collective future.
Oranges elect their hue
improving Nature’s seal,
while pronouns stifle what is true
suppressing the appeal.
Fruits may choose to change to nuts
and fowls select their plumage.
Why settle in Tradition’s ruts?
Such rigid roles do damage.
Nuts in turn, may feel like flowers,
picking how and when to bloom.
So ambisexual thought empowers
androgynes to court their doom.
A leopard, too, may change his spots
(or turn into a vegan bunny)
No law’s tittles, neither jots
make Speciesism funny.
If you decide to see it so
the sky above is yellow.
Perceive as pink the grass beneath
and better times must follow.
Gender? Merely social constructs –
preach it to the masses
until tradition self-destructs
and *** takes off her glasses.
Babies need no Dad (nor Mother):
sexist labels, obsolete.
Love is blind. There is no other.
Bats must bark and chickens bleat.
Integrated water closets
show how far we have evolved:
urinary bank deposits
(with no member account involved).
Foolish thinking from the past
(like water being wet, and such)
calls for re-education, fast.
The State will lend its human touch
compelling all to sing the hymn
with genderfluid motions…
so birds can preen their scales and swim
in dry and waveless oceans.
(Yet “hymn” sounds sexist said out loud –
we ought to sing a “her” instead…
no – make that “us”, since we are proud,
lest misconceptions be misread.)
Shake a healthy dose of salt
upon this strange post-modern food.
May God re-set us to default
with human common sense renewed.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
Pull off my wings
Then teach me to fly
Show me how its done
And maybe i wont die
Like fly into a wall
Or smear my face in a grill
Just show me the way
So i can swallow this pill
You always know my misconceptions
and how my logic is flawed
I hate how your right
To show me i am a constructive fraud
I know i can learn
Only if i take heed
So my teacher my ears are open
My mind is ready to be freed
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC