"nonconforming" poems - Hello Poetry

3-2-2017 (unknown date of origin) Something's wrong... you don't belong here. I said, looking down at the pineapple on my pizza. I said, looking down at the ketchup on my macaroni. I said, looking down at the cream of mushroom soup on my meatloaf. He said, looking down at me and my boyfriend, holding hands in public. Like I'm a creep. I'm a ****** What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here. You see there's these things that we learn at the dinner table. When we're kids we have certain items served to us on our plates. Whatever doesn't end up there, isn't a part of the discussion. After all, they say if you don't have a seat at the table, you are likely to be on the menu. So, when ****** orientation and gender identity aren't seated at the table of childhood, they get served for the first time in unexpected places. Like an avante garde celebrity chef's designer meal, prepared for critiques by the food bloggers. They get served in college classroom debates or in dorm rooms with freshman roommates. They're on the menu in in some movies but served with a side of stereotypes and silly trope toppings. They get grinded into glitter dust sprinkled on the annual PRIDE Parades like an overly salty seasoning mix. They're on the menu in workplace diversity trainings, but too little too late - they get lost in the marginalized buffet. They get served at the oppression Olympics, or actually at the Olympics unwillingly by a journalist who only pretends to eat a well-balanced diet, but really has LGBT food allergies, if you know what I mean. In reality, these should be staple dishes consumed by commoners, consumed by you and me, consumed by children along with their healthy daily dose of broccoli and cauliflower, squash and zucchini, even eggplant. They should be in every ******* cookbook with pictures and all different kinds of recipes! I want every child to have gay on their dinner plate, lesbian lunch, gender nonconforming on the brunch menu, and bisexual breakfast. And everything in between in the queer spectrum served during snack breaks. I want every child to look down at their plate and see pineapple pizza and say, gee that looks great! I love all of the pizza toppings, no matter whether gay or nay. ... except for anchovies, of course.

0

Mar 2, 2017

Mar 2, 2017 at 4:28 AM UTC

PseudoPoet

Pineapple Pizza

3-2-2017 (unknown date of origin) Something's wrong... you don't belong here. I said, looking down at the pineapple on my pizza. I said, looking down at the ketchup on my macaroni. I said, looking down at the cream of mushroom soup on my meatloaf. He said, looking down at me and my boyfriend, holding hands in public. Like I'm a creep. I'm a ****** What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here. You see there's these things that we learn at the dinner table. When we're kids we have certain items served to us on our plates. Whatever doesn't end up there, isn't a part of the discussion. After all, they say if you don't have a seat at the table, you are likely to be on the menu. So, when ****** orientation and gender identity aren't seated at the table of childhood, they get served for the first time in unexpected places. Like an avante garde celebrity chef's designer meal, prepared for critiques by the food bloggers. They get served in college classroom debates or in dorm rooms with freshman roommates. They're on the menu in in some movies but served with a side of stereotypes and silly trope toppings. They get grinded into glitter dust sprinkled on the annual PRIDE Parades like an overly salty seasoning mix. They're on the menu in workplace diversity trainings, but too little too late - they get lost in the marginalized buffet. They get served at the oppression Olympics, or actually at the Olympics unwillingly by a journalist who only pretends to eat a well-balanced diet, but really has LGBT food allergies, if you know what I mean. In reality, these should be staple dishes consumed by commoners, consumed by you and me, consumed by children along with their healthy daily dose of broccoli and cauliflower, squash and zucchini, even eggplant. They should be in every ******* cookbook with pictures and all different kinds of recipes! I want every child to have gay on their dinner plate, lesbian lunch, gender nonconforming on the brunch menu, and bisexual breakfast. And everything in between in the queer spectrum served during snack breaks. I want every child to look down at their plate and see pineapple pizza and say, gee that looks great! I love all of the pizza toppings, no matter whether gay or nay. ... except for anchovies, of course.

26

Verdant eyes, translucent pearls speak in silent witness, wounds unfurl meaning revealed, interrupted girl. Safe in solidarity prolific eccentricity, the scandal of particularity. Pouting mouth grief - filled lips alluring, set sail a thousand ships; tempt me to leave harbor. Arousing euphoria as such, resistance, amity and distance amour sans touch her sense of humor transcends, appeasing the mind’s thirst a vogue sultana, seasoned swagger hair resplendent flame, alternating cool, black asymmetrical coiffure; nonconforming demure the renegade metaphor - singular for sure, no cure. Muted vanity, bathos piercing the jaded circumference of banality; pale protagonist servitude the sapient palaver of the urbane, covered patina of pretense, induced coercion, the commodity self appearing abased wearing lesions of lassitude. Artistic chattel - eminent domain preempting genius, subsidiary of consuming narcissism external locus of control; surrender to the tentative, fettered pendant, Venus in chains arrested visionary bane sterile savant, edifice of pain. The soubrette, dubious incarnation gravid ingénue of prevarication imperceptible venue - theatre of the absurd; withdrawn siren, solitude of necessity - skin - slender veil of shame, nearness loitering redemption; moments envisage the appointment with the soul; ambiguity eschews clarity awareness; ineluctable anxiety, imago - centric confession sacred pardon, seraphic venation intravenous textures presume, the tactile margins of liberty. Therapeutic retrieval, Sanguine, beneath the portico of individuation; Your smile I hear, recovered autonomy blessed emancipation, The scandal of particularity; peculiar treasure ironically captured film, canvas, prose profundity. Ciphering as an ambling book, I peruse you, rendered captive hypnotic avant-garde fiction, spectator of denuded opacity analogous reflection, I Mirror you. A modest proposal - pontificate the imperative, forgo the disposal, adapt your narrative, the scandal of particularity - resonate the echo, cogitate our propinquity Love, imagination and destiny. ©2008 & 2011 W.S Warner

0

Sep 9, 2011

Sep 9, 2011 at 1:20 AM UTC

WSWarner

The Scandal of Particularity

Verdant eyes, translucent pearls speak in silent witness, wounds unfurl meaning revealed, interrupted girl. Safe in solidarity prolific eccentricity, the scandal of particularity. Pouting mouth grief - filled lips alluring, set sail a thousand ships; tempt me to leave harbor. Arousing euphoria as such, resistance, amity and distance amour sans touch her sense of humor transcends, appeasing the mind’s thirst a vogue sultana, seasoned swagger hair resplendent flame, alternating cool, black asymmetrical coiffure; nonconforming demure the renegade metaphor - singular for sure, no cure. Muted vanity, bathos piercing the jaded circumference of banality; pale protagonist servitude the sapient palaver of the urbane, covered patina of pretense, induced coercion, the commodity self appearing abased wearing lesions of lassitude. Artistic chattel - eminent domain preempting genius, subsidiary of consuming narcissism external locus of control; surrender to the tentative, fettered pendant, Venus in chains arrested visionary bane sterile savant, edifice of pain. The soubrette, dubious incarnation gravid ingénue of prevarication imperceptible venue - theatre of the absurd; withdrawn siren, solitude of necessity - skin - slender veil of shame, nearness loitering redemption; moments envisage the appointment with the soul; ambiguity eschews clarity awareness; ineluctable anxiety, imago - centric confession sacred pardon, seraphic venation intravenous textures presume, the tactile margins of liberty. Therapeutic retrieval, Sanguine, beneath the portico of individuation; Your smile I hear, recovered autonomy blessed emancipation, The scandal of particularity; peculiar treasure ironically captured film, canvas, prose profundity. Ciphering as an ambling book, I peruse you, rendered captive hypnotic avant-garde fiction, spectator of denuded opacity analogous reflection, I Mirror you. A modest proposal - pontificate the imperative, forgo the disposal, adapt your narrative, the scandal of particularity - resonate the echo, cogitate our propinquity Love, imagination and destiny. ©2008 & 2011 W.S Warner

82

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

0

Nov 18, 2017

Nov 18, 2017 at 8:20 PM UTC

magic_queer

not gay as in happy

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

71

The way I expressed it didn’t fully make sense to my dearest who only likes men. It's never sat right to me the pride of a parent in their straight child's love life, the "don't ask don't tell" for a gay daughter I used to see red as a fad that had passed and a warning that I’m not desired; But I’m seeing clearer now, Rose-colored glasses might actually bring life into focus. We're all fruity and nonconforming girlfriends and boyfriends and partners each Others cringe hearing "queer"... Yet there’s something more in it: We don't have an explicit gaze, We have possibility, and the subversion of male eyes. So I’ve always been nearly regal like The Lady of Shalott, or Lady Lilith, The Birth of Venus, Flaming June, The Accolade— and I like *** and I feel wanted and I am a commodity-- Don't a man look at me but I will take a boyish girl's gaze only her eyes focused on my ******* Sleep over after the first date, for a change, And remain soft in shape She murmurs a lover’s desires: Wear your identity on your sleeve, In the curve of your back, on the scent of your hair and upon your hips, which invite her hands. Once, I said "let's make it cinematic Like that one *** scene that's in Mulholland Drive" But now: "Touch me, baby" It's finally the normal way.

0

Jan 25, 2024

Jan 25, 2024 at 2:25 PM UTC

Acora

I dig my fingers in

The way I expressed it didn’t fully make sense to my dearest who only likes men. It's never sat right to me the pride of a parent in their straight child's love life, the "don't ask don't tell" for a gay daughter I used to see red as a fad that had passed and a warning that I’m not desired; But I’m seeing clearer now, Rose-colored glasses might actually bring life into focus. We're all fruity and nonconforming girlfriends and boyfriends and partners each Others cringe hearing "queer"... Yet there’s something more in it: We don't have an explicit gaze, We have possibility, and the subversion of male eyes. So I’ve always been nearly regal like The Lady of Shalott, or Lady Lilith, The Birth of Venus, Flaming June, The Accolade— and I like *** and I feel wanted and I am a commodity-- Don't a man look at me but I will take a boyish girl's gaze only her eyes focused on my ******* Sleep over after the first date, for a change, And remain soft in shape She murmurs a lover’s desires: Wear your identity on your sleeve, In the curve of your back, on the scent of your hair and upon your hips, which invite her hands. Once, I said "let's make it cinematic Like that one *** scene that's in Mulholland Drive" But now: "Touch me, baby" It's finally the normal way.

37

A sworn, torn man stands at the top of the world’s longest staircase, and my friends and I have signed up to ride. Millions of others stand between us and the top, waiting for their chance, their prime, to resign. We sulk in the depths of the sea and hope that someday we may be free. The man holds penned paper that the depths cannot perceive, but we know it. Our ticket to the roller coaster lies, with number, on a digit. I and my friends were anglerfish before, but now we are eels. We no longer need dangly lights to guide us to prey, and now we tie ourselves and each other in knots. Life is fun later when we are dolphins, then porpoises, then whales with legs, walking onto the seashore as brisk as can be, drinking our saliva as though it were a river overflowing with our survival. We walk in to the forest and steam lobsters over a log-fire. The wings with the tickets laugh at the monotony below him, but we’re below him even in that. Grey skies cloud overhead, and we realize where we are. I and my friends run from the thunder that comes in every drop, the acid in every drop; where the water helped before, it now forms uncomfortabilities in our skin, nonconforming to the mutations of standard evolution. We need shelter, now, fast, and together. A huge tree is mostly protective. Eventually a ladder of clouds drops down and draws us like a magnet. We can’t stop it, the clock has rung fourteen for two days now. We then have arms and can climb it, so we do, though the rain left pimples on our faces. We ascend to the front of the line. “Hello, ticketman, where are we headed?” we ask. He says, “Darlings, you haven’t been anywhere in the first place; how can you be headed to a where? First, go tackle a why.” The rollercoaster takes off, shoots off – a rocket propels us through precarious stages of life. We have ups and downs and sideways parts we can’t really decide the morals of, and we enjoy it. Then we are dead.

0

Oct 15, 2010

Oct 15, 2010 at 1:24 PM UTC

milieu

Roller Coaster

A sworn, torn man stands at the top of the world’s longest staircase, and my friends and I have signed up to ride. Millions of others stand between us and the top, waiting for their chance, their prime, to resign. We sulk in the depths of the sea and hope that someday we may be free. The man holds penned paper that the depths cannot perceive, but we know it. Our ticket to the roller coaster lies, with number, on a digit. I and my friends were anglerfish before, but now we are eels. We no longer need dangly lights to guide us to prey, and now we tie ourselves and each other in knots. Life is fun later when we are dolphins, then porpoises, then whales with legs, walking onto the seashore as brisk as can be, drinking our saliva as though it were a river overflowing with our survival. We walk in to the forest and steam lobsters over a log-fire. The wings with the tickets laugh at the monotony below him, but we’re below him even in that. Grey skies cloud overhead, and we realize where we are. I and my friends run from the thunder that comes in every drop, the acid in every drop; where the water helped before, it now forms uncomfortabilities in our skin, nonconforming to the mutations of standard evolution. We need shelter, now, fast, and together. A huge tree is mostly protective. Eventually a ladder of clouds drops down and draws us like a magnet. We can’t stop it, the clock has rung fourteen for two days now. We then have arms and can climb it, so we do, though the rain left pimples on our faces. We ascend to the front of the line. “Hello, ticketman, where are we headed?” we ask. He says, “Darlings, you haven’t been anywhere in the first place; how can you be headed to a where? First, go tackle a why.” The rollercoaster takes off, shoots off – a rocket propels us through precarious stages of life. We have ups and downs and sideways parts we can’t really decide the morals of, and we enjoy it. Then we are dead.

9

Dear Bully, How come life is harder for trans people then cis people? Now, I’m not complaining, but why? Is it cause’ we aren't a ‘true man’ or not a ‘real girl’? Who’s to say what is real or not? Who made you the boss of my identity? How come 50 trans and gender nonconforming people were killed in 2021 alone? How come 41% of the transgender population has attempted suicide, when only 2% of the world population has attempted suicide. How come when a trans person shoots someone the title of the article is “Transgender person shot someone,” but if if a cis, white man shoots someone the title is just “another shooting,” as if it’s normal How come the pledge of allegiance says ‘justice for all’ when there really isn’t justice for all? How come in 2023 there have been 417 new plans for laws and bans against lgbtqia people? In 2022 there were only 180 Now, trust me, I am not saying 180 is any better. But, How come almost 400 new laws have been introduced ever since a transgender person killed 6 people. So, then How come we haven't made 5 million laws against cis white men? How come when I meet someone new they ask me who I am, and I say i play basketball, and I’m transgender. All they can focus on is how I was born How come when a cis man meets someone and they say they're into basketball the same person would say, oh who's your favorite player? How come people believe that it's their business where I go to the bathroom? Or how I was born? THAT IS NOT YOUR BUSINESS Dear Bully, IT is not my fault that I'm trans, so then why do you hurt me? Why hurt anyone at all? I lost my best friend, one of the most supportive people cause I had to leave my school I HAD to leave. I didn’t have a choice. Why would I stay if I would've just gotten beaten up even more than I already had. Now, my best friend refuses to talk to me? Why is that? Because of you,bully. And because of all the homophobic, transphobic, idiots out there. I’m not saying I'm mad at you. It's not like a middle schooler can choose to be transphobic. I’m mad at the person who told you to be transphobic, the person who told that person to be transphobic. Just ask yourself; Why? Why hurt others If you don’t need to?

0

Feb 15, 2025

Feb 15, 2025 at 2:57 PM UTC

Lucky_1430

How Come?

Dear Bully, How come life is harder for trans people then cis people? Now, I’m not complaining, but why? Is it cause’ we aren't a ‘true man’ or not a ‘real girl’? Who’s to say what is real or not? Who made you the boss of my identity? How come 50 trans and gender nonconforming people were killed in 2021 alone? How come 41% of the transgender population has attempted suicide, when only 2% of the world population has attempted suicide. How come when a trans person shoots someone the title of the article is “Transgender person shot someone,” but if if a cis, white man shoots someone the title is just “another shooting,” as if it’s normal How come the pledge of allegiance says ‘justice for all’ when there really isn’t justice for all? How come in 2023 there have been 417 new plans for laws and bans against lgbtqia people? In 2022 there were only 180 Now, trust me, I am not saying 180 is any better. But, How come almost 400 new laws have been introduced ever since a transgender person killed 6 people. So, then How come we haven't made 5 million laws against cis white men? How come when I meet someone new they ask me who I am, and I say i play basketball, and I’m transgender. All they can focus on is how I was born How come when a cis man meets someone and they say they're into basketball the same person would say, oh who's your favorite player? How come people believe that it's their business where I go to the bathroom? Or how I was born? THAT IS NOT YOUR BUSINESS Dear Bully, IT is not my fault that I'm trans, so then why do you hurt me? Why hurt anyone at all? I lost my best friend, one of the most supportive people cause I had to leave my school I HAD to leave. I didn’t have a choice. Why would I stay if I would've just gotten beaten up even more than I already had. Now, my best friend refuses to talk to me? Why is that? Because of you,bully. And because of all the homophobic, transphobic, idiots out there. I’m not saying I'm mad at you. It's not like a middle schooler can choose to be transphobic. I’m mad at the person who told you to be transphobic, the person who told that person to be transphobic. Just ask yourself; Why? Why hurt others If you don’t need to?

43

There’s no place for me in this world I’m just not like the other girls I know, all of them say that And also complain about how they’re fat But going on I just can’t deny The more I lose, the more I try I’m not insane, thin or pretty I’m nonconforming but a little witty. There’s no place for me in this world I’ve noticed as my life has unfurled Maybe I’m the loser here Sometimes I want to disappear But even if I ran away My problems are still here to stay Trapped in place to figure it out So I’m plagued with mountains of doubt There’s no place for me in this world Except to take care of my boy and my girl But how do I get them the things they need When the system is corrupted with greed? I don’t know the rules or how to win This game of life we’re living in The system is set, I can’t give up Stuck in a cycle of self destruct There’s no place for me in this world Searching for the things that are real Am I just giving up? Each time it’s getting tough Relationships work and school Failure seems to be the rule Maybe I should just give in And conform to the world we’re living in.

0

Aug 24, 2015

Aug 24, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC

WiserasWoods

No Place For Me

There’s no place for me in this world I’m just not like the other girls I know, all of them say that And also complain about how they’re fat But going on I just can’t deny The more I lose, the more I try I’m not insane, thin or pretty I’m nonconforming but a little witty. There’s no place for me in this world I’ve noticed as my life has unfurled Maybe I’m the loser here Sometimes I want to disappear But even if I ran away My problems are still here to stay Trapped in place to figure it out So I’m plagued with mountains of doubt There’s no place for me in this world Except to take care of my boy and my girl But how do I get them the things they need When the system is corrupted with greed? I don’t know the rules or how to win This game of life we’re living in The system is set, I can’t give up Stuck in a cycle of self destruct There’s no place for me in this world Searching for the things that are real Am I just giving up? Each time it’s getting tough Relationships work and school Failure seems to be the rule Maybe I should just give in And conform to the world we’re living in.

32

Let's remember Nex Benedict as they were. They shouldn't have died at that young of an age. Let's remember the 33 transgender and gender nonconforming people who died this year because of hate crimes. Let's remember there is more to humanity than just cruelty. Let's remember there is more to life than the harshness of life. I know I say this while hiding my gender identity but there is boldness in silence. Let's remember anyone of us in the LGBTQ community would have accepted Nex Benedict as one of us because they were one of us. So live boldly! This isn't about me, this is about remembering the dead. The dead deserve to be remembered.

0

Feb 27, 2024

Feb 27, 2024 at 11:54 AM UTC

brandithebrave

Let's remember

Let's remember Nex Benedict as they were. They shouldn't have died at that young of an age. Let's remember the 33 transgender and gender nonconforming people who died this year because of hate crimes. Let's remember there is more to humanity than just cruelty. Let's remember there is more to life than the harshness of life. I know I say this while hiding my gender identity but there is boldness in silence. Let's remember anyone of us in the LGBTQ community would have accepted Nex Benedict as one of us because they were one of us. So live boldly! This isn't about me, this is about remembering the dead. The dead deserve to be remembered.

7

when I love someone I don't want to love their gender or their skin I want to love them their laugh their smile their eyes their humor their kindness their thoughtfulness their talents their skills I want to love them for them not a made up version of them I want them to be theirself and be proud they don't need to be a girl or a boy or gender nonconforming I will love them for them and what they look like does not matter "I don't love a body, that's just skin and bones, not somebody"

0

Jun 4, 2025

Jun 4, 2025 at 10:19 AM UTC

theperilouspoet77

pride and love

when I love someone I don't want to love their gender or their skin I want to love them their laugh their smile their eyes their humor their kindness their thoughtfulness their talents their skills I want to love them for them not a made up version of them I want them to be theirself and be proud they don't need to be a girl or a boy or gender nonconforming I will love them for them and what they look like does not matter "I don't love a body, that's just skin and bones, not somebody"

31