"phobia" poems
I am Christian. I believe in the
Trinity of the Holy God, The Son, and The Spirit,
I believe that Jesus is the Son of God and the savior of mankind
I own more than three Bibles
I teach Sunday School every week and
I pray every night.
I am Christian,
And as such I
Hate queer....
Phobia. I can not stand intolerance
And I cry at hatred,
Blood running in the streets,
Fear running in veins,
Running away from the truth.
I am Christian, yet
There are bloodstains in my Bible
And the prayers on my lips
Are for forgiveness for who I am.
The entire story of ***** is
Crossed out, blacked out angrily
In the dead of night
In all 4 versions,
Leviticus is blurred,
Wrinkled with my tears,
Soaked with my pain.
I am Christian
And I am not homophobic.
I know my church won't recognize
Non cis-het marriages,
Leaving entire worlds of rainbows in the dark
The higher-ups insist
Weddings are white, shiny, husband-and-wife, happily-ever-after affairs
That shove me and my friends, my family, my lovers,
Into closets of heavenly wrath and
Fire and brimstone sermons,
Locked into personal hells of shame
And confusion.
I am Christian
And I am not straight.
My God doesn't hate me for who I love,
He loves me because I try not to hate.
So to the homophobic Christians, I ask:
Who is your God?
Who is your God that supposedly condemns people He has created in his own image?
Your rainbow picket signs are nothing but a cruel mockery of a covenant
Not truly shared by you.
Your tongues are no better than the viper's who called Adam and Eve to sin,
You are the vipers of my world.
Do you think you avoid judgement
When trans teens are killed
By the bullets you spit with your words?
Who is your God,
That tells you to picket the funerals
Of those you hate?
Who is your God,
That refuses to let you open your heart to differentness?
I am Christian,
And I don't need your permission to
Love my God.
Take my scars and tear-stained Bibles,
Listen to my fervent prayers,
Watch my lips tremble when
I listen to my pastor.
I don't need your permission
To love who I want,
In fact I don't want it.
Take my midnight screaming and fear of coming out,
Listen to my frantic pleading for a hand to hold,
Watch my eyes linger on her chest.
I am Christian.
My God doesn't hate me for who I love,
He hates you who refuse to love
While you carry His name, if
Not his blessing.
So I ask again
Who is your God?
Because mine loves all of me,
All 5'6" of queer pride.
Who is your God?
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
Are all footy fanatics
Total raving lunatics?
The flag's in the bag!
We've got lively lads
The best we've ever had!
Peter Pans on ***
The flags that time forgot!
Footy finals fever,
Talk about dream weavers!
Footy finals phobia,
TV claustrophobia,
Why didn't we win,
Any old excuse again!
Footy fanatics,
Raving lunatics,
Footy finals fever,
Melbourne's dream weavers!
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 4:20 PM UTC
Palembang, Selasa 21 Juni 2011
Aku punya mimpi mulia
Butuh seribu tahun tuk menggapainya
Ku tak serius, hanya mengira
Karena ku selalu tak sempurna tuk jalaninya
Hingga betisku biru
Lututku lecet
Bobot tubuhky berlipat
Sampai pikiran ku sangat terbebani
Hanya dapatkan phobia sesaat
Saat api kulihat di mata tepat
Mulutku kelu ludahku kering dan aku berkeringat
Dan tersadar tak satupun peduli aku di malam pekat
Ingat hanya aku tahu semampunya
Tak buktikan apa-apa yang telah ku buat
Orangpun merendahkan aku bagai tersiksa
Tak bisa ku membela sendiri karna tlah telat
Sadar-sadar di hari nan senja
Bahwa ku makan hanya sisa saja
Ku terima karena ku akui aku memang suka
Berharap perbaikan akan datang mangubah semua
Nama-Nya selalu ku sebut di setiap masa
Meski aku dan Dia tahu bahwa aku masih salah
Namun salahkah aku masih ingin dicinta?
Kepalaku berat bagai hampir tak bernyawa
Oct 22, 2011
Oct 22, 2011 at 9:28 AM UTC
When listen about date of exam
Feelings got high and uncalm
Being company of books inevitable
Now condition of students deplorable
Having pressure smacking clock fatuously
Yawning and laziness offing continuously
To see books again and again become petulant
But thinking about exams it takes dissentiment!
Due to exams sleep devoured
Neither subject nor weather favoured
Time ate to last morsel the pleasure
And to do best alter one's nature
Pretending today's work to next day
Lastly purge to get something we have to pay!!
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
Likely recognize as such.1 Pat on the back? Burp 2 Avoid eye contact after you hug? No lookie hug 3 Embrace so tight that the person can hardly breathe? Bear hug 4 Hold your partner with only one arm? One handed hug 5 Only connect at the shoulders? A frame hug 6 Allow only your stomach to have physical contact? Belly hug 7 Connect only at the hip? Hip hug Do you recognize yourself?
Is hugging a fulfilling experience for you? Did you have parents who felt comfortable hugging? Are you hugging others the way you were hugged? Or have samsung galaxy s6 edge. You consciously chosen to hug in a different way? As a Marriage.But what if my pleasure is using your swimming pool Or your wifeOr eating your dog or your wife ? In the realm of hedonism Købe samsung galaxy s6.For instance.Because a phobia is a total connection to pain.Consider looking over again that winter catalog of courses that you local Junior College is offering.He sees the wine not at all,.my intuition urged me to go immediately and not to wait for the weekend,seven day a week preferably.he or she writes the lines instead,abundance,
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Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
*concerning the pop. narrative -
i'm a wordsmith after all -
someone gives me the raw materials
of islam and (a rainbow) of affixing -phobia
and i can't seem to hammer
the **** thing into shape...
it's, foremostly: a pseudo-phobia.
a misnomer of the phobia compound.*
for a people who have an "irrational" fear
of islam, it seems strange that the same
people gave birth to some form of rationality -
let's just call it islamophobia
not an irrational fear - but rather:
and irritation -
the irritable fear of being suddenly forced
into the extremities of living the daily life -
when something unexpected happens -
mind you, the people who have been forced
into these situations: stop their want
for adrenaline in a base jump, from an aeroplane,
or bungee jump off a bridge.
islamophobia is not a "phobia" as such,
it's not irrational - it's just irritating -
but then again you don't actually believe
a spider to be a irrational creature (arachnophobia),
you don't believe an open space with lots of people
(agoraphobia)
to be an irrational circumstance -
you're facing yourself being irrational in
both circumstances -
since the phobia hides an actual rationale -
islam?
that's much harder - since you're
being "irrational" while someone is actually
being "rational" -
when in fact there's no escaping
that contra of you being "rational"
and the muslim being "irrational" -
not one side is either rational or irrational:
the spider and the open space filled
with people already stated:
you're being irrational;
the fear of spiders is irrational -
but there is no rationality from the perspective
of the spider: what does a spider
know about rationality? jackshit!
there is no such thing as islamophobia:
because you're not being irrational about
what has its own rationality -
its own monologue and intra-dialogue...
whoever coined this stupid word
is as dumb as their rationality allows them
to make enough people use it;
it's only an irrational fear: if there is no
rationale behind it;
point being: there's rationale behind islam,
ergo there is no such thing as
islamophobia.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 7:08 PM UTC
/ innocent until prōven guilty,
contra guilty until
prōven innocent...
ah!
so the minority report?
guilty, while innocent,
based upon a premonition?
hindsight with a zodiac
type of interpretation...
innocent until prōven guilty
has no superiority
in practice over the continental
guilty until prōven innocent...
no... because the principle invokes
presuppositions,
of suppositions...
treating the two as propositions -
or rather... "verbs" inacted...
innocent until prōven guilty -
then no understanding of freedom,
at least guilty until prōven innocent
allows understanding
restraint, however unfair,
with 18 years lost...
and then the tears of relief!
Tomasz Komenda...
an "espionage" case of staging
empathy...
en masse...
an innocent man walks away
from falsely imposed justice measures...
a redemption...
a count de monte cristo
allowance...
but in reverse?
the evil man walks free...
succumbing to old age,
and dementia, a pontius pilate pardon...
there is no redemption aspect
of the saxon course of applying jurisprudence...
the... innocent, until prōven guilty,
contra: guilty until prōven innocent
schizophrenia?
the latter overshadows
the former...
because we're not babies...
at least with the latter:
there's a redemption exegesis -
but with the former?
bitter-sweet tears within
the confines, of an example akin
to jimmy savile...
guilty until prōven innocent
has much more authentic emotional
content, with a redemption narrative...
innocent until prōven guilty
has? not much,
just a grave,
and the stunted emotional expression,
what ought to be flowers
within the heart,
instead: fungus, growing in the dark...
and thus... translating
to other hearts:
let's allow this chemo-phobia
chemo-philia experiment
be left intact in its the momentum...
honestly... the study of law -
is probably the ********* game
in the allowance of games of
adulthood... one tier above gambling.
p.s.
because you know there's proof:
and that the past-participle
thrown into a future, does require
an omega rather than an omicron...
not an oh, but an ooh...
hence? reign from above,
on the omicron, with a macron (ō).
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 12:34 PM UTC
at first it was he who trembled awkwardly with fear and paranoia of mistakes he believed would commit that his phobia itself had turned into an error. once confronted, he had gradually become more comfortable and less awkward; their special bond had taken a positive toll. at the peak of this, she had also gradually become more and more of herself, expressive and carefree.
now only to become what he once was.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 4:53 AM UTC
Not so long ago we were made orphans Plucked form the family tree that grew us into a nation Phobia struck us like cholera Religion armed us against our brothers Leaders occupied with zero point agenda.
.
Blood, our special kind of rain poverty, the only completed government project Corruption, our newly designed flag And breath, our only hope.
.
Empty caskets call silently for our body As we shoved old bones to make room for new ones Our pain covered with GREEN and WHITE paints Pain, pain all over and over again.
.
We've found a new home Back in the ruins, where we came from Let's mske our tents,and forget fishing traps Because we might be here for an hundred while.
_Drunkpoet_
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
Fear Of Missing Out
This is the phobia many of the readers are plagued by.
I came to know about it just recently through an article published in the newspaper. Many people these days think that if they don't have a "Facebook", "Twitter", "G+" or any other social website account, or if their mobile doesn't have "Whatsapp" or any other so-called "social application" in "a smartphone" then they think that they are missing out on worldly affairs and start taming a phobia, dubbed F.O.M.O. by psychologists around the globe.
I am disillusioned by the need of an indispensable online society where people all behave in a virtual manner and project themselves to be the best.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
Dysphoria, what does it feel like?
They sigh, trying to find a single sentence for years of caged silence.
Identity: Female
Stuck in the wrong way
To me it’s a sense of nothing will ever be right
The feeling of being in extreme danger
Like you’re about to die
Identity: Male
All I can say is
This isn’t me
The feeling is a long and windy explanation of
Disassociation
There are things about me that I don’t associate with myself
And it’s weird and confusing
When I become aware of them
Identity: **** A drag queen? Trans fluid.
Dysphoria...
It's a lot like,
Anger,
Betrayal,
An itch
Like a really itchy sweater,
You can’t take it off
And the longer you have to wear it the worse it gets
You start to hate yourself because
You’re the one that put the sweater on in the first place
They say we are ill
Broken
******
***
“Butch”
It’s not correct
When they say it’s their right to say those
That’s when I get mad
If there is no way to make the mind conform to the body
You must make the body conform to the mind
If they think it’s their right to tell other people that their identity is wrong,
Then they are ill and broken
They have no f**king clue
And I know,
I can’t tell them they’re wrong
Without telling them why
But I realize
Explaining this is futile
With closed minded people
Bathrooms need to change, Health care needs to change, Identification needs to change
People are forced to “pick one”
Trans-phobia shouldn’t be tolerated
Mental health care shouldn’t be because it’s a “defect”
Social pressure, Internalized oppression, Abuse,
Shouldn’t
Be
Tolerated
Politicians have got it the wrong way around
One in two transgender persons have experienced ****** assault
One. In. Two.
They say, “We don’t want men undercover spying on our women and children”
You think they are in there to spy or ****
Name more than two cases in the last 25 years
Where a transgender person has sexually abused a woman in the ladies bathroom
You can’t
But give me five minutes, and I can come up with five to eight names of transgender people
That have been assaulted in bathrooms since 2019 started
But our Pride cannot be destroyed
It’s our strength
A feeling of belonging
A belief that we can change this
We are not alone.
We Are Not Alone.
YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 5:27 PM UTC
I am often under the impression that old fashioned street lamps
The ones with eight sided glass and black ornate poles
Are strategically placed by the city planning commissioner's office
To let me know the wardrobe is just a few dozen feet away
And it will take me away from this Narnia
If I just open the door
My phobia of opening doors gets worse every time I think I've finally found it
Only to walk right into the girls bathroom after lunch
On five alarm chili day at the cosmetology school in Little Korea Town
I don't like watering the plants
It makes me wonder why mother nature fell asleep on the job
But the plants are always telling me the rain can't get them inside my living room
So I started the fire that the insurance won't pay for
And the chemicals in the emergency sprinkler system killed the plants anyways
It also killed the fish
But the insurance adjuster wore gloves
So he's still alive
I would make a pretty ****** politician
I get upset at people who don't make sense
Though sometimes I don't make sense
I also have a bad habit of doing the wrong things for the right reasons
I have found Waldo three times
He says hi
Carmen Sandiego is in San Diego
Which makes that trip to Cairo a really bad piece of detective work
On a related note Al Gore is Captain Planet
And every time I hear a bug zapper
I think it is the bat from Fern Gully
But it is not
It's a bunch of dead moths in a box
Monkeys in a barrel
That's how my mind does things
Every time someone say "it is"
When "it's" would be acceptable
I remember The Land Before Time
"This is fun, it is, it is"
You are welcome
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 2:54 AM UTC
I am a jigsaw puzzle…
Packaged, broken down and oddly pieced.
Vivid colors. A curious captivation.
Although… with time they have faded…and creased.
Handed down like an antique quilt.
Fragile and warn, only portions of my picture complete.
Left wondering if I will ever be seen as one.
Admired as whole, even with corners somewhat oblique.
So I set out on a journey:
Re-genesis of the soul.
Craving colors unimagined:
An apocalypse of the world of dull.
Along the way I caught a glimpse.
I unearthed Utopia.
A world lent only to dreams and fairytales.
Yet I couldn’t seem to give in and face this phobia.
I continued along my search.
This time with a new groove in my step.
Part of me wanted to turn back,
But that could’ve meant loosing the little I had left.
I felt something flowering within.
I may have looked away, but that moment a seed was planted.
Roots of strength embedding themselves into my soul,
A new chance at life finally granted.
Fresh oxygen to inhale,
As this life grows inside of me.
Battling with worry and yet no panic at all.
Something so charming and enormous, the world deserves to see.
Branches of love breaking through my surface,
A bungee cord tugs, than allots some slack.
Leaves of unwritten memories begin to evolve.
This budding life needs nurture…I need to turn back.
Before I can set foot to turn around…
Utopia at my fingertips.
Life, nurture…a wonderland unsought.
And that is all before the meeting of our lips.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC
*Drawing pictures of any opaque scenery
Instead of your smile.*
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
It all started with mixing Tequila and Sambuca last Friday night.
Then I noticed him, busting some classic moves on the dance floor.
Soon we are dancing, grinding, kissing, laughing, dancing, kissing,
he's even drinking out of my half finished cup of water, he's smiling.
"I'm a Royal Marine, not an Army boy!" he corrects. "A Commando."
We both even have the same phone! Coincidence? I don't think so.
Beads of sweat dripping from his hair onto his flawless face and neck,
yet, he smells oh so divine, "it's Gucci Guilty Intense", he explains.
I blurt out, "Hope this won't be a waste of your time, 'cause I'm not
going to sleep with you tonight!" He says, "All right", and smiles.
Mixed signals, cold bed phobia, pure drunkenness combined,
I offer him, "It's late. You can spend the night at mine, I don't mind."
"Just Scott, you won't remember the rest, it's long and complicated",
later he adds, "Good luck trying to find me without my name!"
"I'm Twenty One." "That's so young", I exclaim and he frowns.
He's cocky yet witty, and also very pretty, so I let my dignity drown.
Taking him in my mouth until he explodes like a loaded gun,
my duty to the nation's hunkiest hero was well and truly done.
"I joined two days after my eighteenth birthday", said he with pride.
"My vacation's over. I'm leaving on Sunday to Poole". I sighed.
I spent the entire night insomniac, with my head throbbing to the beat
of his obliviously, peacefuly sleeping exhaling and inhaling speed.
Close enough to feel the heat of his body, yet a million miles away,
him dreaming and I reminiscing, both awaiting the dawn of a new day.
Skipping the "thank you", "goodbye", hug or phone number, he says,
"See you around maybe", holding a rather deceitfully seductive gaze.
"Scott, we're never going to see each other again", I answer bluntly.
Mirroring my sad smile in reply, minus the sadness, he left promptly.
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 3:05 PM UTC
In the darkness I live in,
There's a man so tall and thin,
And in the morning he goes hiding,
Though at night he screams I'm lying,
And in the night,
My thoughts break into silence,
A life remains,
Within the mist of phobias.
When the sun is up I find escape
From the demons in my head,
But as the sun sets here he's creeping
Through my mind as I am sleeping,
And in the night,
My thoughts break into silence,
A cry through rain,
I lost my mind in phobias.
If paranoia is my only friend,
Well I must fall with him again,
As he reminds me of my sorrow,
While I cry for a tomorrow,
I lost myself
In silence.
-Kathia Mariana Landeros
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
Framed so poetically, there it stays
Never steps out of its flimsy boundary line but
it takes in everything with him
Inside a a static sea frame, there
roam all the wild guesses you
took:
all blue
all trapped, as erratic and diminishing as it was named.
Was you were to throw that time when
you tried to take to the sea
all into it?
There is no need to make me open my eyes to see something as obvious as this for a even a blind man can see it so crystal clear
in his pitch black vision
I'm closing my eyes and hope it stops
but
***I remember waking up
somewhere in midnight term
drowning in salty seas
and making bitter coffee to
recede the former taste.
I found your diary on the sea
shore with all of the demerara
sugar sand
disconnecting wires in my mind
with overflowing water in the
bathtub
and getting electrocuted.
Alarms when off buzzing with
tick tocks
I found myself with
a pacemaker also
your dying digital clock you had
since forever, displaying
blurs of phobia***
Am I wrong to be trying
to breath underwater
Would it be right to despise
the blue sea that should soothes us
that turned grey for all our
fears we threw in without hesitate
I put all of my fears into this sea,
as a glitched version of your
deceiving eye hue,
demerara sugar on the edge of
your lips lingering in my coffee
chronomentrophobia oh thalassophobia,
yet I was to choose between icy cold ocean air and
falling into clocks' icicle-like hands.
This
is much of an error as it is
a tsunami washing us with a tide of heartache like
over sugared coffee with still bitter taste that melted into
my inner cheeks when I had ulcers
and
you wearing wristwatch while holding my hands.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
as the rest move in a herd in time, fixed and onward
some remain at a pace of their own
slower,
wallowing in crevices, an act of conscious apartheid
familiar with the shortage of influence, that is, separation.
wandering by will
vicariously living through a phobia of confusion
hence why lost souls remain lost
fear of false direction, fear of decision
uncertainty amongst hysteria
a deadly duo for the few
settlement has become still
and those lost are familiar with movement
2 steps forward, 12 steps scattered
here and there and it's unclear
up and down
its all around the dance to delusion goes to no sound
but illusion.
distress within the body whose mind follows curiosity
incessant pondering yields a detriment
to the thinker,
be about
your quest and breed your farewell to the
blissful life of ignorance
that now follows you
-
is there a solace to be found for these creatures?
has the point of no return passed?
the distance behind is immeasurable
for the path previously paved is dimly lit
to decipher the single instance is a feat of all men
does the lone wolf recall?
Apr 16, 2023
Apr 16, 2023 at 1:51 AM UTC
by Arcassin Burnham
why are all of you putting more weight on my shoulders,
waiting for the years of long pain and suffering to be over,
you all put me in a very messy mind state,
where i cant maintain,
suicide was the answer,
but it was never questioned,
out of all the ****** up things in my life,
all the exs and broken friendships,
i now realize that i cant be what they want me to be,
i can only be me,
get rid of some of this stress,
cant loosen up,
cant shake this phobia,
when all i do is shake,
like bruce banner looking for the cure to stop the hulk,
how can life go on from all my mistakes,
with bad people,
that i couldve impressed,
but failed miserably,
to know ive always hated myself,
father figures burned out of the picture,
if he could have been here my life wouldnt be like this,
deserving to die,
deserving not to live,
deserving not to care,
to live in anxiety,
probably for the rest of my life,
i hate myself.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
Whether I'm afraid of liars or real boys,
I'm not sure...
But they seem to walk hand-in-hand these days.
Jul 10, 2012
Jul 10, 2012 at 9:36 PM UTC
it's funny the things you forget
when asked for an 'interesting fact' --
you sleep on them for days
and exhume them from the ground
because they matter! so deeply!!
there's no metaphor that does them justice!!
it's poetry because it isn't!!!
i don't know my siblings.
my parents sleep in my dead grandad's bed
and i received his cupboards:
yeah, we're pretty much begging to be haunted.
let's be positive, it'd be nice to see him again.
thanks to reinforced childhood superstition,
i still pick up pennies from the ground
(yup, even with my germ phobia).
i used to write to the tooth fairy!
she warned me about gum disease.
her name was tiffy, but it turned out to
just be mum writing with her left hand.
as an internet-addicted hermit,
little me hated going abroad
since the only friends i felt i had were online.
there's thus a list of places to someday re-visit -
rotterdam is one.
i'd like to be somebody's muse.
if my life plan fails,
i want to work in a funeral parlour:
it feels as though i'd do it justice.
watching the same film more than once
just isn't something i do -- except grease --
exceptions can be made when it's on TV.
i mean, c'mon, it's grease.
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 11:28 AM UTC
you should appreciate your little victories
i do
for example today,
i conquered my telephone-phobia
if only you could see
my hands
valiantly reaching
to
call
off
that
dentist
appointment
Mar 18, 2019
Mar 18, 2019 at 11:02 AM UTC
Hmphh. The Goat. Ruled by the Black Hand of our solar system. Gate of the Gods, but you truly fail to see your real potential because you're clueless how real motivation works. You are not a prodigy, you are the most basic construct of a human, next to the over achieving Leo. The two idiots of the zodiac flitting about. You would think with being the Goat, you'd want to aim high, climb, and grab life by the ******* ***** right? Nope, most of you are homebodies who are phobia ridden. Saturn got your pessimistic ways? Boohoo, go cry with Cancer, there's a "whipping sign" you can take out your miserly and grudging ways on. Discipline? More like, "I'd rather watch paint dry than your ridiculous dreams you always seem to be chasing". And why you try to come off as hard workers is beyond me. You do very minimal and claim some ******** grandiosity; highly annoying in your braggart ways. ***** please, don't come off as serious, we all know Elvis died on the toilet. Get over it.
Advice: Do some real work without all the nonsensical stupid, dry humor. You aren't as brilliant as you think.
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 11:09 AM UTC