"nonbinary" poems
Purple is often misunderstood
People confuse it with pink or blue
They cannot comprehend change
The synthesis of something new
Purple has been picked to pieces
Analyzed with Pantone paint chip cards
The public is vexed, this defiance of ***
Twirled around by color guards
They say that violet delights have violent ends
That from this “choice,” there’s no return
But they’re the ones who set us aflame
And we, in their triumph, burn
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
My gender can change at the flip of a switch
They say it's impossible They say it's just a glitch
They ask if I'm male, female or non-binary
I'm all three I'll tell them finally
that's when They start to frown
and look at me like I'm a clown
"you can't have all three you must choose one!"
"the science doesn't support it, ***
how do you explain it then
when my gender decides to flip again
when I go from someone who loves herself
to someone who can't look at himself
when I can't stand to be either gender
I refuse to stand by and be a pretender
Is it too much to ask for you to respect me?
To let me be myself, to let me be free?
To ask me what my pronouns are
when you see me at a bar?
my gender is mine you will not correct it
you will not make me feel like a misfit
because I know who I am, what I am
there is no right answer to this exam
my gender is fluid
don't act like you're clueless
because I don't fit in a neat little box
I don't care if you think its a paradox
because you don't get a say
in who I am today
I'm not nonbinary
I'm not trans
I'm fluid
Jul 4, 2020
Jul 4, 2020 at 6:13 PM UTC
Mozart,
deaf,
died, eventually.
Picasso, pervert, died; Whitney, Winehouse, drugs, dead; Elvis, Methamphetamine, died
(on the toilet).
Van Gogh,
missing an earlobe,
died.
Plath,
head in an oven,
in front of her kids,
Woolf
Patron saint of insanity, I guess
waded into a river and-
River. River Phoenix. Drugs.
Natalie Merchant wrote that song about him in 1995.
Flash forward.
Me, twenty-one, drunk.
Proprietor of a collection of lackluster poems.
Sold their small, nonbinary soul to the Devil
in exchange for a fortune,
gone.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 6:49 PM UTC
I walk around these places
Trans-centric spaces
Yet I don't feel like I belong
I know that
I look like them
And based on my reading
I feel like them too
Though I still have this sense
That I somehow do not count
I am not quite enough
I feel without a place
Maybe because last time
I was at a trans art show
And my art lives in words
Not in images on canvas
Just another piece of me
That doesn't quite feel
Real enough or
Good enough
To be taken seriously
And I know
I know
This all boils down to
The way I treat myself
But I'm trying
I'm trying
Some things just take time
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
You remember me from Highschool?
That was six years ago!
I'm nonbinary now, and I'm gay
Dropped out of college, moved to and from LA
I've had four separate jobs
With different levels of pay
I've fallen in and out of love,
In and out of more beds than I'd rather say
I've had cats, and Jury Duty,
I even changed religion, okay?
You remember me now? I don't remember me then!
So spare me the back-when, what can I even say?
It's been six years since Highschool
I don't remember a single day.
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 5:14 AM UTC
As I picture myself in the future
Through years of HRT
Small glimmers of excitement
Reflect off the walls of my heart
I rarely feel excitement these days
So this instance is important
I picture ****** hair and muscles
A deepened voice ands flat chest
The physical changes excite me
It's the social ones that scare me
I cannot imagine having male privilege
I cannot imagine not feeling objectified
I cannot imagine being read as a man
I was raised in a position of oppression
I am constantly stared at and made into
Nothing more than the prospect of my genitals
And yet,
One day,
It will no longer be that way
I'll just look like a basic white boy
And they'll have no idea
Except that I will not stay silent
I will not hide in the shadows
I am transmasculine and nonbinary
And I refuse to remain invisible
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 2:16 PM UTC
you ask me why I wear concealing clothes
the truth is that I am trying to cover up the paint that you have forced upon me
People have sewn in labels and stereotypes into my skin
it's a constant struggle as I try to rip out the stitching
the second it is gone more is put in place…
people think that its ok to deadname and misgender me
I'll tell you “its fine! I know its hard to get used to it, don't worry!”
but it's not fine, not at all
I am not some practice dummy you can use to practice what respect is and isn't
I am a human just like you, but I am not like you at all
you people who use being trans and nonbinary as a joke
you people who treat trans people as if we are mentally ill
you people who think its ok to disrespect what and who we are
you people who debate if we should be allowed to exist...
I am told to “just accept who I am”
those people don't get that I do, they are the ones who don't
I am here
I am real
and I am not you
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 12:27 AM UTC
I often find my heart lies with the lads
And I find I related more than my body should
And other days I find I align with what my mother would be proud of
The confusion sickens me
I feel like a freak
A shapeshifter in a circus
One who crowds gather to gawk at
It feels like they stare and mock my absurdity
It rips me apart to feel so different
And I have been told that it is for attention
But please know that no one would wish this confusion on themselves only to be looked at with disdain
I am me and that is simple and plain
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 5:27 PM UTC
Recently
The person I am now dating
Has come to terms with
His own trans identity
When we met he looked like a girl
But I could sense something within him
Something that resonated with
My own confusing feelings of gender
I asked him if he was trans
And at that point
He used the term nonbinary
I felt really excited about this
Finally there was someone like me
Who definitely was not a woman
But never felt like a man either
It was actually just a space in his journey
And he eventually came out to me again
It's my first time having a boyfriend
Since coming to terms with my queerness
And I love him deeply
But it has not been easy
Mostly because of the fact that
His transition has led me
To come face-to-face with
My own repressed identity
I have to address and recognize
All of my internalized transphobia
Most of which is aimed at the mirror
Fueled by years of denying myself
While I am definitely not a woman
And have never felt like a man
A lot of the time I feel like a boy
And hope that I will pass as such
I am finally ready to really listen to me
And the needs of my identity
To resume my rightful path
On the road to being myself again
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 2:14 PM UTC
"What do you mean, when you say 'angel'?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean why do you call me that. What does that word mean to you?"
"You know what it means."
"Sometimes I think I do."
"It means dark thing. Because there's a violence to it. Because it's hard to see. Like looking at the body in the distance- the thing standing between the trees, with only the faint glow of the moon illuminating its face."
"You think angels are dark?"
"I think angels are mysterious. You know they're there, but that's it. You think you know what they are, what they look like, but you're incapable of grasping their image."
"So, what does that look like?"
"It looks like everything. And nothing. Total darkness, blinding light."
"Sounds.. overwhelmingly incomprehensible."
"That's why it looks like different things to different people. A woman, a man, the recurring nightmare from your childhood. Some people think it looks wrong. But to an angel, there is no wrong way to have a body."
"Now why does that sound familiar?"
"I think an angel looks like a sword. Like the terrifying indifference of nature, and the undying, righteous rage of a person with a good heart. All and none, never wrong in their being."
"And this is what you call me?"
"Yes. This is what I call you.
My darling mystery. My dark thing.
My angel."
Jun 21, 2021
Jun 21, 2021 at 7:27 PM UTC
you killed all the
nice queer people and all
that’s left is me
with my shaking hands
and cracking voice
and fear giving way to anger
and a tiredness that nestles
ever deeper into my bones
and monday the 20th is
the 18th transgender day of remembrance
where the community mourns all
of its trans and nonbinary and genderfluid
and gender nonconforming siblings
because they were killed for
daring to be themselves
in a world that would rather
bury their dead sons and daughters
than have a child who changed their
name and gender marker
to the right ones
because being trans and queer
in a trump america
is an act of deviance and rebellion
where i could get beaten up for
using the mens room
and it would be my fault
because i am other
i am a freak
they do not understand me
and therefore that makes
me the enemy
but you have sat next to me
on the bus
in the movie theater
in the bathroom stall next to mine
while my anxiety mounted as
i waited for the bathroom to clear
out so i could leave safely
and i know when you look at me
you do not know what box
to force me into
and i want to know
you owe us all the answer
of how many more of our
siblings have to die before
you realize that we are people too
i am as human as you are
my correct hormones are just store-bought
and i had to claw my way into
the words of brother
and son
and nephew
and grandson
and boy boy boy
and male male male
but you have killed all the
nice queer people and all
you have left is me
and i am making my anger
into a louder voice
that will never be silenced
because you can cut out
my tongue and you can
take away my basic human rights
and you can even **** me
but the truth is that you will
always be more afraid of me
than i am of you
because while you ****
what you do not understand
i embrace it
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 8:20 PM UTC
Before the thunder coats my lungs I whisper soft
The storm is a cacophony of pink that flows between slow and stop.
In every direction, pointed hats and sharp signs
stinging words and biting looks
phrases dotted with peaches and comb-overs
hardened women fiercer than the surging wind.
I had never imagined feeling so powerful until
50,000 women
and men and nonbinary friends
engulfed my senses in magenta and bubblegum
and lightning struck 100,000 times in the space of two blocks.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 11:33 PM UTC
It’s weird how much
I love times new roman and
how the sight of Jordan Maron playing
below Zero Subnautica makes me clap and grin.
I’m the nonbinary watching youtube to sleep
and to feel comfort. I find the sound of the Misfits Podcast
soothing. The first degree black belt resting on my shelf
means I worked seven years, but when I learn Jiu-Jitsu
I’m up against the wall, stuck in another corner.
My closest friend group full of a bunch of LGBTQ+ and
mentally ill kids, from transgender to bisexual, from depression
to panic attack disorder to separation anxiety. We’re all just trying to survive.
Living comes later.
I’m writing a poem to express who I am, is
this enough? To the heart of me, the soul,
or whatever you want to call it.
Does the horse tattoo I got three weeks ago,
on my left shoulder blade or the way I fold my clothes
in my suitcase tell you? How about the green of my eyes,
that my best friend describes as a soft jade with small streaks of gold,
the outer rim a pillowy chocolate blue?
I love the sound of acoustic guitar and the powerful choruses
thrumming through the air. Editing is always done on paper and
grammar is a learning experience. I go horseback riding every Sunday
with my campus horse club.
But this tells you nothing of my times, when I found myself
Alone, utterly without hope and trust. Or I could say,
I trusted that I was not enough and that I could never amount to anything.
But it’s taken me a long time to take back what was always mine,
and I’m fighting for those rights yet.
I need to wash my water bottle more,
I need to say I love you to my best friend more,
I need to… to…
Love Myself.
And maybe that’s what this poem is for.
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 11:01 PM UTC