"orientations" poems
Freedom and independence are not synonymous
We have many freedoms
But zero independence
Independence is freedom
Freedom is not independence
What we celebrate is a false holiday
It's a cheap *** excuse to drink
And set **** aflame
What we celebrate is a false holiday
Once meant to portray
Our braking away
What we celebrate is a false holiday
That makes life seem like a joke
Because we've conformed too much
I have the freedom to say whatever
I **** well feel like
But I am not independent from fear
Or tyranny
This is America
Land of the stupid
Home of hatred
Everywhere I turn I see
Persecution
Oppression
For religion, *** and race
For orientations and confusions
For thought and for ideas
This is America
Not some fluffy dreamland
Like so many of us make it out to be
Yes I will be ready to admit
We are certainly freer than most
And yes, I will be ready to defend
My country with my words
But I can't sit on the sidelines
And just watch as my land falls to ****
"Happy Independence Day"
It breaks my heart that we have to declare a day
To recognize independence
It's a false independence we celebrate
I love the fireworks and the lightheartedness of it all
But it's ********
We shouldn't have to label a day
On a calendar
For historical emphasis
Woohoo Declaration of Independence
And all that jazz
But it no longer seems that way
Equality has never existed
This America, not an Aboriginal society
Pursuit of happiness is impossible
Because one person's happiness destroys another's
Liberty and justice for all?
Yeah right
Happy Independence Day to all who believe
But as for me
Independence my ***
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
I was not trained for this—
no welcome packet, no handbook for gravity.
Just a name that clings like static
and a voice that trembles when spoken too clearly.
They asked me if I had room.
I said I had weather.
They asked me if I would disappear.
I said watch me smolder, and stay.
I have loved like a lighthouse
with no shoreline in sight,
signaling to anyone
who mistook reflection for return.
I’ve held their names
like breath under water,
carved pathways through others
just to find my own again.
But I do not sculpt.
I do not steal 'the good stuff'.
I inherit fire
and ask it if it remembers me.
If you see yourself in me,
look again—
I am not a mirror,
I am the window you opened
and forgot to close when the wind picked up.
Still, I arrive,
boots echoing in the hallway
of someone else’s myth,
offering only this:
I will not rewrite you.
I will not finish your sentences.
But I will stand here—
untranslated,
unsaved,
untouched by the need to be anything
other than true.
Jun 13, 2025
Jun 13, 2025 at 5:29 AM UTC
Tu voudrais que j'improvise
Les chemins qui mènent au septième ciel
Pour notre prochain congrès
Que je vienne les mains vides
Sans notes ni croquis
Pour te couronner reine et courtisane.
Mais demanderais-tu au peintre de venir à toi
Sans son pinceau, ses fusains, ses tubes d'aquarelle et son papier canson
Ou au photographe sans son posemètre, son trépied et ses filtres, son appareil photo et ses objectifs
Et un auteur de théâtre pourrait-il officier sans donner des indications?
Des orientations, des pistes pour que les acteurs puissent mieux jouer leurs personnages
Eh bien moi je voudrais écrire de concert avec toi les didascalies de notre lune de miel.
Pense au Cantique des Cantiques
Pense à Salomon, à son épouse et aux jeunes filles ,
Penses-y bien, ma sans rivale,
Ma muse venue au monde sept fois
Et dont aucune galante n 'arrive aux chevilles
Comment veux-tu qu'on se retrouve dans la mare aux nénuphars
Deux canards mandarins batifolant
Sans didascalies...
Tu connais les soixante-quatre manières du kama
Tu sais la différence entre baratement et percement
Et tu veux goûter le chalumeau du miel
Lors du congrès de la corneille
Alors tandis que tu me provoques du regard et du geste
En dansant comme une bayadère accomplie
Souviens toi des didascalies.
Je suis ton vert-galant, ton esclave, ton cornac
Ton renifleur, ton cunnilingue, ton Sigisté
Si tu veux tu seras ma nymphe, mon myrte, ma lanterne, ma crête,
Ma landie, ma douceur, mon amour de Vénus
Mon gaude mihi, mon impudique
Organisons nos langues et nos boutons
Nos protubérances.
Pour qu'aucune partie ne soit honteuse
Pour que toutes soient honnêtes
Il faut des chapitres et des actes
Dans lesquels les morsures, les égratignures, les baisers
Les succions et les caresses s'emboîtent dans un naturel
Si joliment organisé que chaque posture génère
Une improvisation et que chaque improvisation génère une nouvelle posture.
Alternons les phases pudiques et impudiques
Sans tabou éperonnons-nous
Empalons-nous dans les postures de singe ou d'éléphant
Peu importe si la mentule précède le tentigo
Ou le contraire
Peu importe qui est dessus ou dessous
Qui lèche et qui est léché, qui est mordillé, qui est marqué,
Qui est baisé et pénétré
Si c'est simultanément ou séparément
Nous appartenons nous aussi au règne animal
Et que la verge soit masculine ou féminine
C 'est toujours l'aiguillon de la volupté qui guidera nos didascalies.
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 5:56 AM UTC
i found two things bewildering,
alzheimer's attacks the pronoun
category, and other forms of it too,
but modern psychiatry
having abolished asylums for
a humane revision of its practice
has become a branch of medicine
that over-prescribes nouns,
and by such over-prescription
invents noun jargon,
it cut open an ancient greek word,
used the prefix (overly) and added a suffix (sufficiently)
to make no sense whatsoever,
it prescribes neonouns like it prescribes
pills that don't work... or if working
then in a negative way... anti-psychotics
can make you **** yourself in your bed
when sleeping, i've been drinking for some
time, and my bladder is arnold schwarzenegger,
when i used to be on anti-psychotics for
no adequate reason (living in a post-colonial
society does that to you, you can come from
lithuania or poland and be treated like a
would-be coloniser to extract the fastest
sprinters for a new country, without the "doctors"
treating you adequately),
so as i said: alzheimer's attacks the pronouns,
the iron core of the earth that's an individual
thus dislodging all the adequate orientations
of categorisations of words... like psychiatry
abuses the noun category: schizoid, schizo-affective,
plain dumb schizophrenic... bi-polar, uni-polar,
plain dumb depressed... psychiatry has long
established a monopoly on nouns...
i just use their terminology to excavate a new
grammatical categorisation of words,
from poetry, among nouns adjectives pronouns
and conjunctions... you'll find psychiatry nicely suited
and booted as a word categorisation: metaphor:
all psychiatric diagnostics should be categorised as
metaphorical... 'cos they name it... but have no idea
as to how to behave behind it: it's not like they
say cancer and you're expected to die...
you're expected to live in their terminology
of treating you for a ******* pay-cheque:
you won't even commit a crime, but they'll
treat you like a criminal... so long suckers...
i mean western europeans, i rather live in (as the
americans say) i-raq... and shoot a bunch of you
protected by what i see as the final solution
you thought was once church v. state...
how about segregating democracy (the church)
from bureaucracy (the state)... but of course
the two are mutually dependent.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 7:19 PM UTC
There have been orientations
I've attended
that hit home, hard.
Ones that were held in auditoriums,
which brought outstanding projections.
Of voice and talent,
speaking to talentless voices that seek
increments of the number ten.
Tens of hundreds, speaking excrement.
Cause **** even a ten is divisible by the number two.
There have been orientations
I've attended
that hit home, hard.
Ones that were held in back rooms,
with walls plastered with common sense.
Of apologies and service,
speaking to employees that service apologies
to miserable men waiting for change.
Tens and hundreds, purchasing excrement.
Cause **** even the box that holds an engagement
can be discarded.
Orientations are set up.
They're made to entice and integrate,
but in all actuality they're erroneous and agitate.
They speak fate,
but hinder the great.
They mark you.
Like I've previously stated:
Orientations are set up.
They're not a debate.
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 6:05 AM UTC
Frustrated.
With myself, or you?
You’re content without me
And that’s not fair
Because I’m not content without you.
One way channels of affection should not exist
The world is out of balance
How can you be right for me, and me not right for you?
When will my own chemical orientations be reciprocated?
I couldn’t be more sure of you.
Sure that you fill a void in me no one else can touch.
But when I speak to you, confide in you--
When I anticipate a mutually appreciated interaction,
And you don’t speak—don’t show—don’t need—
Well, I find myself here.
Rolling on in these ruts, unwanted, with love unrequited.
Frustrated, but not with you.
Because not caring is no crime,
And life is yours to live.
So live on, love, and I will rust.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 12:30 AM UTC
the world is one ****** up, crazy, beautiful place.
we are all bipolar in our own minds and confused with our existance
we make something of ourselves based on the lies we are fed everyday
we judge everyone and EVERYTHING, because we are always comparing
we are always ready to compare something to another thing
and that is what makes us so ******* disgusting
STOP.
and ******* listen.
listen to the steady beat of a child, and a rapidly chaotic beating of one on the brink of death
listen to the racial slurs and gender specifications and ****** orientations we implement every day
listen to the laughter and to the sobbing and to the screaming of a ‘happy’ home
listen to the gunshots and tortured souls and heartbroken soldiers footsteps on foreign land
******* listen to the things which make human beings human
women are not plastic and molded exactly the same to be sold in window displays at the mall
soldiers are not heartless and unbreakable to the bone
children who laugh are not always happy, naiive and carefree
why do we always have to listen to the media or to our best friends or our families opinions?
you have your own brain and heart
use them, and stand up for yourself, for others, for the world
because the world cannot heal by itself
we need to act.
now.
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 9:15 PM UTC
i have an ongoing
love affair
with words
that roll around your
mouth
luscious, langourous
lilliputitian letters
sensual syllables
slick- sliding off
the tongue
ecstatic explosions,
erupting, erogenously
exciting, eager exclaimations,
of enraptured exualtations
organic, original orientations
of teeth and tongue
producing oodles,
of apogeic anomolies
my affair
accomplishes much
for little
it is you see
just a not so secret love
of letter, line, jot and tittle.
a casting eye upon a word
and i am set rushing
down a path
reserved for those
with terms, descriptive,
and names.
that in themselves,
decry
wordlove.
lexicographers and bibliophiles
phoneologists, linguists, polygots,
jonguluers, wordsmiths scribes
poets.
all possess this
heartstringed
tangled knot,
spiderwebbed
feeling,
for words.
which, we then,
endevour to spin,
into inkstained beauty,
to ensare
ourselves ...and others.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
People are uncomfortable with truth.
There is truth in silence
and people are uncomfortable with silence.
When asked how one is doing, the proper response is 'fine' or any indicator of greater ease.
One is expected to participate in class activities, team building exercises, and other meticulous, tedious motions of repetition.
One should shake hands, smile, participate in pagentry when only putrescence is felt.
One should not look at walls, there is no social status in looking at walls.
One should not have problems unless they are desirable. Anxiety, but too bad. Depression, but not too bad.
One should appear clean and well slept,
one should claim one received very little sleep, regardless of how much sleep one actually received.
If one is female, one should show skin but not too much skin.
If one is female, one should not resist ****** advances, yet one should not have multiple ****** partners.
If one is male, one should be in fit condition, one should not cry, and one should not show interest in a member of the opposite gender except for those of a ****** nature. One should not acknowledge the existence of more than two genders, ****** orientations, or trains of thought.
One should be socially and politically aware, but one should not raise their voice on these issues unless others of a high social status are.
One should be happy, but not too happy.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 12:53 PM UTC
i see the world through welded steel bars that fence around my body, masking armor, but realistically locking my free spirit inside the walls of flesh that make up my being
i walk around, bewildered to see other miraculous women of all ages, races, and orientations trapped behind the same impenetrable incarceration, trudging along sidewalks, tendons diminishing in their knees as the metal jail cells they live in is a weight incapable of being lifted with ease
i clang on the bars with a metal can, i am soothed by the sound of my own imprisonment, i am lulled to sleep by vibrations of the vague oppression encrusted into the cell of my cells
i have not thought to cry, i have not thought to fight, for i have no idea where tears could possibly find their way down from, their inexistence is almost certain to me
i see the world through welded steel bars, that close in tighter with every aortic pulse, with every respiratory heave
you may be thinking at least you can still see, which is true, yes, i am so glad to be able to see
i only wish, i could see more
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 11:39 PM UTC
Go to your profile!
pull down the pull down menu
under gender
holy still crazy!
nobody told me so many choices were available
my titillated imagination reeling at the nomenclature of
****** orientations...
don't know what most of them mean, no insult intended,
chalk it up to a case of gender tender confusion
she, interrupts:
shut down the poetry, its near to 4am,
get some badly needed sleep, ****
you're a stll crazy
plain vanilla idiot!
light bulb goes off as the screen fades to black-
my gendersex is official, she-notarized:
I am a trans-plain-vanilla-idiot (with traces of caramel)
4:13am
p.s. E - please add to the list
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 1:10 PM UTC
My heart is crying for the **** victims screaming falsetto notes in the dark praying someone will find them and lead them to light...and as much as their father would've loved to protect his baby from that, he simply doesn't have an "S" on his chest.
My heart breaks for the babies born into poverty with three strikes against them...because the government will make it their duty so that it is **** near impossible for those kids to succeed; but there will be some that rise above those stereotypes and those children will become the young women and young men who change the world.
A tear falls every time a woman wakes up, looks at herself in the mirror and has to put makeup on to hide the bruises that came from the man to whom she gave all of her love to. Equally, my heart breaks for the children that live their life walking eggshells because they don't know when their mommy or daddy will snap next.
I cannot rest until innocent children are no longer being kidnapped and sold as *** slaves, until genocides become a thing of the past, until America really becomes the "land of the free", or until so many of our generations teenagers and young adults stop using guns as fists.
I am praying that the people walking this earth who have every reason to give up on love somehow give it one more shot. I am also praying that the young women and men who have shot down dreams will fight harder than they have ever fought because the world needs more of you. Lord knows we need more of you.
I have a dream that more of us will love in permanent ink. I hope that more people will see that the only thing that can defeat hatred is love, and I pray that every person reading this will decide to join love's side and fight hate. I pray that anyone that feels completely alone realizes they have God.
There will come a day when I will be standing in front of a crowd filled with a rainbow of races, ages, ****** orientations, and I will give my testimony. I will tell those people how I almost gave up. I will tell those people I had family that loved me regardless. I will tell those people that even though they feel as though no one loves them, I love them; and more importantly, God loves them. I will tell them that one day I decided that the only person in control of my happiness was me, and that is when everything made sense. There will be people whose lives will change because of my story, and that is the day my dream will start to become true.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
There's an innate feeling
of
drift
that comes with
letting go.
The space we create for ourselves is,
by nature, weightless
until we fixate to the
points
in it which we made
to relate to;
because love is exactly like gravity,
and the points in space
are planets and stars,
celestial bodies
just perfectly warm enough for life
to explore,
orientations to look up from
and see
the rest of it,
but when we realize who it was
wrought the cosm
and we wake
stupefied and lucid
those pieces,
seeming both so distant and close,
unweave themselves from the fabric
and like magic
they disappear.
Our fists
forced gently into grasplessness
panic at the lack of that
substance our tongues and eyes
and right-side-up sensibilities
wish so desperately was there
from the beginning.
We start floating
of some unknown accordance,
though undoubtedly, deeply our own,
towards the next and closest
brightest shining
source of love.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
Love comes in…
All the colors of the rainbow
Orientations of the mind
Temperatures of the body
Emotions of all of time
Love comes in ….
Soft as a feather
Hard as the steel in your will
Hot as summer
Cold as a mid winters chill
Love comes in …
And Love goes out
In with a kiss
Out with a shout
It rattles your nerves
Shakes up your soul
Confuses your brain
As to which way to go
Dichotomy of the ages
Struggles of the world
Life’s history of pages
Mans flags are unfurled
Bringing life in and taking it out
Making us cry and making us shout
What else pumps the blood and weakens the mind
Nothing in this world does any of this kind
To live without love
Or jumping in deep
None unaffected
We’re all loosing sleep
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
different pigments
doesn't change
the fact
we have the same
bones
different religious beliefs
doesn't change
the fact
we're made of the same elements
different ****** orientations
doesn't change
the fact
we are all human
different social classes
doesn't change
the fact
none if us are
consistently happy
different lifestyles
doesn't change
the fact
we're all imperfect
•|||°
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 8:22 PM UTC
Truth is a familiar word to all and yet is the most Elusive of all !
Truth is the Inner compass , navigating life's orientations.
Filling the heart with Euphoria of self validation's !
Paint the self in Truth and give the world a scintillating surprise .
Truth will always upraise you in your own eyes !
One is never enough and a hundred is never more ,
Believe in the power of truth and resurrect your own score !
Truth needs to be in action , not just in words , reiterate it to be heard .
For all we know is - " TRUTH ALONE TRIUMPHS IN EVERY SITUATION" !
©Mrunalini.D.Nimbalkar
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 3:38 AM UTC
they float in rusty rouge waters
as fog steams upward, obscuring
various uncanned flotsam
white shapes of vocabular form
disperse into random orientations
entangled by processed seagreens
i saw the letter 'k' rise to the surface,
only to slip below again as other
consonants recomposed
with a single dip of my spoon,
seven of these lifted from
their salty wakes form
a simple line of
characters—
spelling
nothing...
"unremarkable soup"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 7:21 AM UTC
Funny how small the world is when it's not
Someone for each and everyone it seems
Until I reached my name, so I thought
The trans girl I attend school with exists only in my dreams
Surrounded by lovely people as well as some not so lovely
Various identities and orientations crossin' over
Two years nearly like this, and someone like me I've yet to see
Chance encounters in this full, desolate land are four-leaf clovers
Hard not to lament loneliness even when friends are there
Easy to force a smile and laugh as well as tell white lies
Sometimes make me feel a skosh needy, but I don't care
I stay wishin' for someone to gravitate towards to field my cries
Pipe down and keep dreamin', kid
Sit right back down and accept your fate
Too awkward, bad at first impressions, of that you won't get rid
You won't meet no girl like you, ain't that great?
If I were to meet my match, I'd be elated
The yin to my yang, the bullet to my gun
Give the F-word, hummingbird to sadness; like a balloon, I'd inflate
The good kind of mess; give dysfunction its 'fun'
I'd treat you like the lady you are
We'd sound similar when complimentin' ourselves, we homophones
Beat your face up and do the same to the ignorant, no matter how far
We'd have ourselves a gay ol' time, unlike a buncha homophobes
But above all else, I'd want to be there for you
Validate you and offer support whenever you deem it necessary
I want to be the best friend I can through and through
Do whatever it takes, doesn't matter how arbitrary
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 2:27 AM UTC
I'm still working on it
I could say you are the sun, my sun
Beautifully bright, ever so true to yourself and everyone exposed to you. The one who gives meaning to my days, what is day without you?
But you burn, my skin cringes and my head pounds when you stay. I need you to but not all the time so i hide.
I am working on it
Maybe you are the moon, my moon
Subtle yet present, beautiful but you are forever changing. When i need the whole of you, you come only in fragments, still beautiful to look at but never enough.
I'm still working on it
My star? The way you illuminate my nights into a vision i want to behold for eternity. I'll be honest, you are the biggest reason i look forward to the night. You are everywhere, all over, how am i to focus if pieces of you are floating in different shapes and orientations. An abyss in a galaxy, a faraway orbit. Trust me that is the beauty i want but baby, i want you in your wholeness.
I'm really still working on it
You can be the sky, my sky
Ever present, consistently constant
I know the storms steal your beauty but you always come back, the sun tries to illuminate but you always stay true. The moon and stars overwhelm you with their grandeur, i love that it compliments you.
I worked on it and i think i got it
What do you think?
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 4:43 AM UTC
Where are the thoughtful s, the brilliants
those young Turks of mine times with tomes ablaze
the searing searches for wisdom in flights of discoveries
soaring into heightened ideas and dives in Philosophy pools
sparring with edifices of futures past and present yet to show
The magic of minds invigorated anew
knowledge incoming and endless forays in disciplines testings
midnight oils burning as brains are lit and wonders founds in old
new skills come in and in growth and understandings you dance
versatility you embrace in bloom of maturity and richness in minds
Talk Shakespeare and see Homer with Sartre
ratios and equations take on compounds and Periodic Tables
the ***** in biology makes ******* covers even more relate-able
Byron says it sweetly and Solzhenitsyn talks Gulag in Mein Kampf
one day in Imperialism while another in Totalitarianism all ideas
My kingdom for knowledge and the trained minds
oh such joy the vista of erudition and peace of understanding
the harvesting of a million lights to banish fears and shame duds
confidence of the unconfined thoughts and enamored teachers
the august seat in a world where diversity is undreaded and calm
Thus never a war of minds or feigned stances
nothing akin to the posturing fakes and usurpers dim et vacant
or them charlatans lacking gainful foundations in pretentious airs
bovine bullies coated in ignorance manifesting idiocies a la pride
sham laughable buffoons strangling Art for art sake, dopes for free
So look below and see the infertile minds in fallow
base and dank coarse and idle with the occasional sprouts
incapable in essence limited in orientations like a pack of jackals
ignorant and belligerent or puffed up in fear like a capon in anger
nothing enlightened, positive, constructive or gainful just angst
mired in the blame game with limited senses and ignorance raving
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 9:12 AM UTC