"questionnaire" poems
you ‘why’ her.
While she is thrilled & happily beside you,
Telling you when she’s up to something new.
Your pre-existing notion of setting a “ya” for her limits,
Persistent "no" to her wishes,
She grows up to know that,
if she got to do something new
She got to fight over the, 5 Ws & 1 H!
Ow! & you convince it’s out of distress not mistrust!
And by the Indian parenting manual,
questionnaire weighs heavier at a girl.
ultimately,
“This time”, “That day”,
" This place", “Those people”
Would impregnate her!
Sons of yours -
Son of nights! freely hatching eggs past curfew.
Not foreseeing the evenings his sister would come crying.
Parents when you talk on equality & empowerment,
Let broad mind not hit the very ceiling of your house
Let rest mindset that proclaims gender roles,
The differential idea you set on them,
From who uses broom to who chooses groom.
If misogyny is permeated in the roots of society
Cleansing and changing begins in the family,
Before there in your minds, first.
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 12:39 AM UTC
DURING THIS VISIT
I am a layman laid up
with a very dodgy ankle
that winced about Paris
for almost a week with
every footaghhhhhhhfall.
Now it's the A&E;
for me.
The electronic noticeboard
flashes up its what nots
faster than I
can scan.
I barely catch CQC
Good( shadow )Rating.
Two wheelchairs
(peopleless)
chat about the this of that
typical wheelchair chit-chat.
A portable X-ray machine
pretends to be a giraffe.
"oooooOOOOK...we are going to get
Geoff the Giraffe to have a look at that!"
The child smiles
through the pain.
The screen peppers me
with possibilities.
Extremely likely?
Neither Likely nor Unlikely?
Etc., etc., etc.
My mind opts for
a simple I Don't Know.
"Breast." says the screen."
"Max Fax & Orthodontics."
"Re-hab shouldn't be boring!"
A questionnaire asks me
to think.
Big mistake.
I start to think.
Pain & Boredom
turns these hospitalised facts
( what ever they mean? )
into a something only
my brain can understand.
"And now, straight in at No.!
with a fantastic new single it's...
...Max Fax & The Orthodontics
with the glorious bouncy
BREAST!"
"MORTALITY by
The Upper Quartile
falls down one place to
No. 2!"
My shadow is feeling
very poorly at this
instant
in time.
Hasn't even bothered
to turn up.
There goes my good
(shadow)rating.
I think I'll switch
to silhouette instead.
I practice my Ogham.
SAT 4 APRIL
says the clock.
It's hands joined
together in prayer.
I switch
off my mind &
float
down
stream.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
HAVE I told any man to be a liar for my sake?
Have I sold ice to the poor in summer and coal to the poor in winter for the sake of daughters who nursed brindle bull terriers and led with a leash their dogs clothed in plaid wool jackets?
Have I given any man an earful too much of my talk-or asked any man to take a snootful of ***** on my account?
Have I put wool in my own ears when men tried to tell me what was good for me? Have I been a *** listener?
Have I taken dollars from the living and the unborn while I made speeches on the retributions that shadow the heels of the dishonest?
Have I done any good under cover? Or have I always put it in the show windows and the newspapers?
1.8k
Have you ever had bronchitis?
Tuberculosis?
Have you ever shot pigeons?
Been to prison?
Played with yourself?
Have you ever been to Egypt?
Told stories of your backyard?
Been to two places at once?
Are you religious?
Have you had dental surgery?
Does your knee hurt?
Are you scared stiff?
Do you envision everything working out?
Are there toys in your closet you haven’t played with?
Are you sexually satisfied?
Do you cry at the drop of a hat?
A sad song?
A beautiful sunset?
Does the mere act of hugging make you long for more?
When will you be happy?
Are you already happy?
Does your medical record tell your whole story?
Do the stories you tell reflect the whole you?
Are you free to visit your true self on a daily basis?
When will it be too much?
Where do we go from here?
Are there aspects of your life you would rather not talk about?
Or are you willing to tell all?
Who is your best friend?
What can we have for dinner?
How hungry are you?
For ***
For companionship?
For peace of mind?
Will there be ample time to figure it out?
When?
Why are you so impatient?
Is it your age?
Your name here_________________ (not required)
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 3:13 AM UTC
**Inspired by Meg Cranston's Artist for President
(http://www.uniteddivas.com/megcranston/megpresident.html)**
We assert that there is a youth culture that is different and separate from all other cultures and that our culture is governed by principles which the aged population finds peculiar or offensive.
We are tired of being labeled.
We are tired of being segmented.
We are tired of hearing old people talk about us.
We are tired of being the respondents to your 20 city questionnaire.
We are done with being ignored.
We are sick of 1980s spandex.
We are sick of your Top 40 hits on a compact disc.
We are sick of your rom-coms and big budget fantasy sci-fi sequels.
We are sick of 60 billion ad messages being hurled from satellites in outer space.
We are done with being disappointed.
We demand the right to change everything.
We demand the right to create our own words.
We demand the right to define what is cool in the morning.
We demand the right to re-define what is cool in the evening.
We are done with being told to follow.
We reserve the right to be elitist.
We reserve the right to choose our heroes.
We reserve the right to create jobs that never existed before.
We reserve the right to outsource, open-source and crowdsource everything and all.
We are done with your rigid ways.
We condemn the wars that you started.
We condemn the poverty and hunger you created.
We condemn your irresponsibility in ignoring our dying planet.
We condemn the forces of greed that keeps an honest man from climbing the income brackets.
We will fix the mess you left behind.
This is for school kids
This is for college students
This is for young professionals
This is for the young artist who shares his creations on DeviantArt
This is for the young blogger who dreams of being a travel journalist
This is for the podcaster who is on her way to become a successful RJ
This is for the YouTube user who dreams of her own television show and feature film
This is for the photography enthusiast who spends his pocket money on a Flickr Pro Account
This is for the opinionated Twitter-for-Blackberry addict destined to become a Twitter celebrity. (Even we don’t know what that means!)
This is for the coding guru who gifts his geek friend a mobile gaming app based on Dungeons & Dragons for his birthday. Yes that is cool...for now.
This is youth culture
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 2:24 PM UTC
Being a parody of Abou ben Adhem by Leigh Hunt
(See glossary below for translation of italicized words)
By Yossel Zweben (1929- )
Moishe Ben Shlomo (may his nostrils drip!)
Awoke as they approached the landing strip
And saw within the cabin (business class)
A stewardess with an exciting ***
The badge pinned to her ***** said Lorraine.
A life of chutzpah had made Ben Shlomo vain
And to the well-endowed hostess he said
“I bet that I could land us on my head!”
The crew who had endured his endless yack,
Found this the straw that broke the camel’s back,
And to this trumped-up braggart they declared
“Our magazine contains a questionnaire
To test your aptitude to fly this plane.”
“What a metsieh,” thought Moish, wracking his brain
And mentally the crew echoed his thought
As, finally, they got the peace they sought.
When El Al published names that had been blessed.
Oy veh! Ben Shlomo’s name had failed the test.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 12:47 PM UTC
If you've found love,
would you know?
If you also feel love,
would you let it grow?
If you're in love,
would you let it show?
If you've secured that love,
would you promise not to let it go?
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 7:56 AM UTC
On a scale of 1-10, 1 being the lowest and 10 being the highest:
1. How cute did my **** look as I walked home from school?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
2. How old must a girl be before you catcall her?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
3. How many miles is a girl allowed to travel from her home before she is a target?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
4. In this deadly hot summer, how many layers must a girl wear to protect herself from your cries?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
5. How many times has this method of courtship ever been effective?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
6. How many boys does a girl need in order to protect her from you?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
7. How many times has someone catcalled your mother, your sister, your daughter?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
8. If unable to answer Question 7, how many times have they come home crying, holding their clothes tight to shield themselves?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
9. How many letters are in my name?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
I'm sorry. That last question was unfair.
You would never know my name because,
despite all the curses and jeering,
you never once asked for it.
My name is @@@@@@.
I am not your "baby."
I am not your **
I am not your ****
I am me, and I belong to no one.
10. How likely are you to allow me to not be anything else?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC
A questionnaire of my family history is only a monologue I tell myself.
Practicing in front of the mirror to get better.
So, the next time the doctor’s words I am sorry falls back into their lips.
& I am onto my feet.
A vapid, monologue screenplay.
The rehearsed version of my life.
Answering the questions.
Somehow still fumbling through the words.
Yet leaving voids in my answers as my family’s members absence did.
Mother?
Two strokes. She’s alive but not apparent enough to know it.
Her blood runs too thick.
Blood pressure always boiling.
Mother knew how to live fast but never well enough.
Father?
Dead. He was alive but never long enough to hold it.
Heart always dropping and head into the palms of his hands.
Thirst never stopping.
Alcoholism is a wicked thing I say.
Siblings?
Brother. Alive somehow not present enough to count it.
Healthy. We count his days as tick-tack-toe though.
Family history has a lineage that says the roots in this family tree are rotten.
Sister. Victim to mental health.
The prodigy of a broken foster system.
I reckon her days are counted in lines.
Between days she’s alive & the days she wishes she wasn’t.
The doctor does an homage in the way she bows her head.
Makes the hollowed-out chest of mine seem like it’s filled with water.
I let out a gasp.
Trying to fill the room where all the air has seemed to have evaporated.
Hoping to catch my breath.
My story filling their break room like a lingering coffee smell.
Keeping them brewed in satisfaction that it could always be worse.
My story always seemed like the punch line for better days.
Our family has been waiting since genesis for such.
These are the days I wish I believed in something.
A god to drown every nightfall with dawn.
Oct 20, 2020
Oct 20, 2020 at 1:41 PM UTC
Pieces thrown everywhere
Pieces of my heart, torn apart to the air
Silence
Nothing but silence after the offensive blair
I cant take anymore of this repulsive snare
My soul went down to my knees feeling weak and unaware
My mind started repeating the undeniably cruel questionnaire
After spending the day and night
Writing all these things about his love that are so unfair
Realizing how unworthy of a person you were
I wont let you come and just glare
It became a strong game
With scare and despair
..
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
This test is the most crucial exam by life,
Deciding paths of vileness or virtuousness.
The questionnaire is not always simple,
Unable to form practical comprehension.
Ethics from morality are stunned by emotions,
Summiting answers based on raw wickedness.
Rubber is given to repair the flaws of humanity,
Intended to rectify the mistakes of imperfections.
Righteous answers leads to a higher score,
While evil responses results in decrease points.
Filling in statements that will be rated by God,
People represent the faith of their own destiny.
You can’t earn a perfect ranking on the final essay,
Marking errors with a red pen by superior judgement.
A higher power recognizes true forgiveness from sin,
Let the eraser expunge faults of living by wise choices.
When your replies are considered for evaluation,
The creator grades a ruling that decides divineness.
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 4:35 PM UTC
I see you stand and gaze around the room
Looking for Mr. Who Knows Who
I wonder when you stare who is it you see
and have you seen me...
the one over in the corner
the one always out of sight
the one that's barely mentioned
the one hardly given the time
You walk along the ocean, enjoying the surf and sand
The shells are secondary as you search for the perfect man
I wonder as you walk by the sea
have you seen me...
the one on the single blanket
the one who averts his eyes
the one that tastes the ocean
in the salty tears he cries
As you sit at your computer browsing through the dating sites
Filling out the questionnaire of your does and do not likes
Looking for that true companion on the newest dating scene
have you seen me...
the one that's also on the computer
the one that's anti-socialized
the one the goes unnoticed
even in his own eyes
have you seen me...
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 8:52 AM UTC
What do I do?
I bleed
my blood
perfect and incapable
causing questions
What lies in my in my blood?
emotion
dripping running stumbling
like clumsy words
caught up
the folded doorstep of my tongue
Full of meaning
unable to present themselves
Enough to choke the next question
a ****** puddle
of raw truth and confessions
bleached away
The flower to my garden
struggling to stay alive
So next time you make me bleed
let me bleed for you
And where is my emotion
in my blood
running….
breath
dripping…
exhale
stumbling…
nothing
perfect and incapable
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 5:27 PM UTC
As the days go by without a word from you,
I'm left here wondering what is really true.
My mind counts all the possibilities
So here's a poll--won't you answer please?
There's no need to be cruel or unkind,
Just pick the choice that best bespeaks your mind.
And if somehow I missed your favored choice,
Use Other then to give yourself a voice.
Now if you're very brave, and Other's what you've checked,
You know how to find me: please connect!
I haven't written you because:
a. You scare me!
b. I'm waiting for you to get the hint: go away!
c. My computer crashed so I lost your email. Thank God you wrote!
d. You're divorced? I can't even talk with you.
e. I thought you wanted *** now--I don't want to be friends first!
f. I got kidnapped by terrorists and have been held incommunicado!
g. I got in a car wreck and I'm in the ICU.
h. I met someone 'way cooler than you. Drop dead!
i. Other
We here at Gallup thank you for taking the time to respond to our questionnaire. You may have been selected to participate in additional polls.
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 5:15 PM UTC
I was handed a questionnaire
And asked to fill it out the best I could
With #2 pencil in hand
I saw the questions were on love
I've never once questioned my love for you
I've studied hard, I've studied well
That's why the first box I marked off as true
When asked if I'd give you all of myself
It asked things like would it be alright
If I held you tight the rest of your life
I marked that box all of the above
Cause isn't that what you do for love
It then asked if love was meant to last
It talked of the future in view of the past
That question was adorned in essay form
I filled up one page but could have filled two more
I started off by writing
True love only looks straight ahead
The past is past, no need looking back
And should be buried along with the dead
Which means if you dig it up enough
The only thing it does is stink
And the buried past really has
No place in loves company
Once I got through the questionnaire
I felt good about the fact
I had honestly answered all the questions there
As I handed my #2 pencil back
From the multiple choice to the true and false
Along with the final essay
I folded it up, brought it home to you my love
For the final grade
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 9:17 AM UTC
I am known as the Living Questionnaire
Inquiry is my ecstasy
Silence is my downfall
Imvestigative and compelled for the truth I seek
"Why do I do this?" the best questionnaire in me asks myself.
Because I'm bored?
Not always.
To better understand humanity? Probably.
To indulge in the otherworldly experience of touching a soul by questioning a mind.
Yes.
...delightful...
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC
I no longer question
The way of this world
Not that I would want to anyhow
I no longer ask
Why beggars are scorned and ignored
Even the children younger than me
I no longer ask
About Mermaids and Fairies and Elves
Nor the werewolves and vampires
I no longer ask
Where the sun and the moon came from
Or if the angels live on clouds
I no longer question
The way of this world
Not the questions that matter, at least
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 1:07 AM UTC
Tell me about yourself
Interviewer asks a girl
What exactly she has to say
To get the job
She started with her name
Academic career details
She came up with achievements
Questionnaire asked about her
Positives and negatives
She said
My positives
I am punctual and regular
My negatives
When I am busy I will
Ignore surroundings around
Why this job
She replied
This was my dream company
And conversation continued
With series of questions and responses
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
What if,
life was the destination
and
not the journey.
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 6:58 PM UTC
I went to my doctor yesterday
I filled out the forms
Did the questionnaire
And smiled
Because I felt better!
Not good,
But so much better than my first visit
My mum was upset
Because I still feel suicidal
But I told her it's less than before
And I smiled
Because I felt better
Then the doctor came in
Asked how I felt
And I told her I felt better
She frowned at me
And said thats not true
The forms say i'm still a mess
She told me my meds need to stay how they are
For at least another six months
Maybe stronger than now
But we would check later
And she reminded me
I'm not better
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 2:14 PM UTC
*are you the one
he and we are asked..
our replies express
where lately we've been..
in our bordered world
do we see interlacing..
are there open fields
in our imaging..
those fields unseen
seeming to project
each our scenes..
are wounds noticed
seeds of healing
theirs and ours..
a questionnaire
without an answer
to the question…*
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 1:39 PM UTC
why does my jaw
drop at white guys
with joggers and
backwards baseball caps?
or at some basic uni boy
who hasn't got it
on with a black
girl yet...
why is it so
surprising to me
that they hit and run
and leave absolutely
nothing? yet they beg
me to stay when their exclusive
bae finds a new party
or some casual *******
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC
I remember lying on my bed late at night
The images of that.. survey
tattooed behind my eyelids
I remember having to check off the boxes that apply
But how can you apply a label to the deep down feeling of being bullied
How can you label the sleepless nights and tempest-tossed days,
Of lying in bed wondering when the world will change
When you want to make a difference
But it’s hard
Because people won't listen
When innocence is dressed as protection
The lines get fuzzy
Because I can remember times when my age cost me my innocence
And my innocence cost me my age
"The resources that we provide
The time that has been generously set aside
You need to pick a side"
But there are too many unanswered questions about this list of what feels like right and wrong answers
But it's okay, because there’s an “all of the above" option
The messages students are sending out are being ignored
We talk to the janitor, instead of the head of the school board
When the teacher who said they'd to help you decides to retire
We are tired
This form is supposed to help us
But it has formed into an endless hole of anger and confusion
We are tired of being told that we are safe when our safety seems to be disguised as a Google questionnaire.
So I lay on my bed for a little while longer
And thought of this poem
To all the girls and the boys
And everyone in between
Who’s ever struggled with self-worth
And even self-esteem
We are in this together
We can work to be better
So we won’t have to lay in bed,
wondering when the questions won’t make us question our inherent value
Because we are worth something
Something more than what we know
More than hair, makeup, piercings and clothes
This is some progress, a movement, a fight that can grow
And hopefully one day... our identities can show
And all of this can start by hanging up a rainbow :)
Oct 27, 2020
Oct 27, 2020 at 11:38 AM UTC
Our Realtionship became like the game of truth or dare.
Unaware that the questionnaire would make an emotional wear and tear.
Aurguements Reached despair.
That was the end of our enchanting love affair.
My mouth became a ***** chair
Because you turned into a grizzly bear.
What happened to us Dear?
Because The I can taste the hatered in the air
Everytime that you and I are near
I sense the tension in the atmosphere
Its like you can suspect my fear.
No Warning sign! So Just Beware.
Love doesnt live Here.
Nor does it dwell there.
I became your toxin
And so you became boxed and locked in
Confused and had no other option.
And You, You were my deadly venom
You were like a strong Wind with Serious Momentum.
Our feelings we resent 'em.
We became each others addiction.
Triggering Afflection
Feeling Constriction.
Generating Friction
Mentally and Emotionally we have both given an eviction.
for each other we dont even seem to care.
At first it was so sincere.
But now this burdern I can no longer bare.
Now our hearts are well aware
That Love Doesnt live here
Nor does it dwell there.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 11:01 PM UTC