"stereotypically" poems
Stereotypes are a commodity
Stereotypically
My childhood should be filled with only happiness
Happiness because of my color
No struggle
Struggle should never have confronted me
Never should have shown me how to survive
Or how to better myself
Because me being me I realize
I realize the uneducated hide
Hide behind stereotypes the unconsciously enforce
Enforcing by proving the statistics and stereotypes
Statistics and stereotypes that have to have an origin
If you judge me by stereotypes
You will fail to realize
The stereotypes you fight to uphold
will never define me
I will succeed not because of my color
Or because of a stereotype
I will accomplish my goals
Only because I refuse to let others limit
The excellence I can achieve
By pushing stereotypes that hold hardly any truth onto me
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
Last night I dreamt
You called me "gorgeous,"
"Gorgeous?" I said, "that's not my name," I said,
As my cherry red tongue dropped my lollipop
Straight on the ground,
***** red sugar slivers gorging on my
Blood vessels pumping into my heart -
A big metal spoon banging on a cast iron skillet.
Skillful, you are with your
Cinnamon heart smile
Burning my taste buds and
Hugging my curves with every -
Gorgeous.
I dreamt of you
Running your finger like a wet paintbrush on my
Obscenely white canvas
Soaking up my stereotypically common insecurities and
Gently placing them in your pocket,
"I'll take those, gorgeous,"
And then you color me with purples and reds,
Red,
Like Red Delicious waiting
For the bite, like my neck,
Waits for your teeth, maybe
I'll just wake up and keep dreaming,
To see you,
Fiddling with a razor in one pocket,
A cloudy crystal in the other,
Mediating the argument of
Who gets to protect you -
Who gets to lick the salt from your cheeks
After backyard creeks race to your lips
The space between our tongues so small,
Yet it weighs on me like
A sixteen hour car trip with your baby cousin,
Torture.
Like blue eyes shaded by glasses,
Hiding behind fallen heads.
I woke up just to remember
That your eyes are the only shapes I draw in the dark.
Begging for sleep to bring me back
To watch you stare at the dirt snuggled into your
Weather cracked boots
Your fingers tugging at the chain that rests on your chest,
Keeping my attention,
On the heavy black coat I'll be wearing 'til
Summer, an extra layer of skin,
Keeping me from gorgeous,
Let me drop it like an old tissue in the cold,
Let me lose it like I've been sick for weeks on you
And I'm shedding my skin like it's time to start new,
There you go,
Wearing your silence like a tuxedo,
**** - always ****
And you're breathin' fractions of facts in my ear,
Seducing it's drum like a late night jazz club and
It's your first time on stage,
Gorgeous.
Let my stomach politely introduce itself to my throat,
Pleading with my temple to hold on to that bead of sweat that
Reluctantly drips down,
Gorgeous.
Down,
Like the tips of your lashes meeting my bellybutton,
Wet lips tracing my skin with "gorgeous,"
In your black coffee voice,
Gorgeous.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
i am a damsel in distress
not the fairy tale kind of an unknown princess trapped in a tall tower hidden from the world by their evil stepmom, waiting for their one true love to save them, but the modern kind
just like the princess i need saving from an evil stepmom but this modern day evil is in a different form.
this modern day evil stepmom is not a person but people and their mindset/views on women
i need saving from the stereotypes people have created about women
how we are weak, “moody”, and just an object with a pretty face
i need saving from the fact that i don’t have the right to my own body for what i should like is determined by balding, middle aged white males who photoshop every picture ill ever see of a woman
i need saving from the fact that women have their own catagorey when it comes to jobs.
if we were in an office job setting stereotypically the male would be the boss/CEO and the women would be his assistant/secretary, but in reality the roles could be reversed for womnen can do exactly what men can do
i need saving from the fact that women get paid less than men, and yea its a $0.22 difference but thats not what i need saving from i need saving from the fact that women arent viwed as equals to men
i need saving from the fact that women cant wear what they want for they will be cat called by men who have no personalities
i need saving from the fact that it is my fault for being sexually harassed because my skirt was too short or because you could see my bra strap, like really?! COME ON! all women wear bras its nothing special!
now i bet youre all wondering the really inportant question…
who will be the one true love to save me and all women?
trick question!
its yourselves we are the one who must save ourselves by changing our viewpoints and spreading the word on why others should change them too
so then eventually there will be no such thing as a modern day damsel in distress
but for now there is
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
I've always talked to myself,
but these days
I feel stereotypically crazy
the "I should be locked up for my own good"
kind of crazy.
I don't know how long
I spent in my room
laughing until
there were tears in my eyes.
Twice I made a move
to leave the room,
twice I collapsed laughing.
I wondered if I was actually crying,
But no,
it was laughter.
Laughter,
because my god,
it's all so **** funny.
I counted my Klonopin today.
She told me to ration them.
I took four on one day
three on another,
if I skip a day or two,
I'll be able to take
four on a different day.
It makes sense in my head.
Without the Klonopin,
I'm angry again.
She asks if I'm thinking
about eating today,
"not really idc"
An "I care" response
only elicits
"Sorry about that,"
too much of a coward to say
"That's not my problem"
or better yet,
**** you, leave me alone,
go tend to your partner,
or datemate,
or whatever the **** you call them."*
Maybe I don't really mean it,
but there's only
**** You"*
in my heart today.
I won't take the Klonopin today
so I can drink wine or a beer
or whatever is cheap.
It makes sense in my head,
as I continue to cackle to myself.
*Who the ****
do you think you are,
Kerouac?*
It's all a joke to me.
I walk and walk and walk
and I buy a too sweet coffee,
instead of *****
which I tell myself
I'll buy later.
I can behave,
if I'm in public,
only emitting
a tiny chuckle
from time to time.
Everyone here
is absorbed in their lives.
No one will know the difference.
It's all a joke to me.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 3:21 PM UTC
i met you exactly once.
i was five and you were tall
and you'd brought me some toy
(stereotypically girly).
i've never played with dolls
and you apologized for assuming.
a week later
you sent me some legos.
i've seen you exactly twice.
the first, i barely remember.
the second i recall all too well
because my parents were crying
but my cousin,
your son,
wasn't.
i find myself wishing i'd kept the **** doll
because the legos you got me
were mixed with the others
a long time ago.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
In order to combat the increasing rise of poems
revolving around love if not death if not tragedy
In order to combat the remarkably unremarkable accounts
of commonplace things like war and depression and destiny
In order to combat the stereotypically stereotypical stereotypes
that are behind our society's long awaited demise:
This poem is fondly dedicated to Johnlock fanfic.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
for her [every woman]
sparkle red [sparkles are stereotypically for girls. but instead of sparkles, it is blood. so, bleed red.]
& care little [do not care]
& honor every 'no' [honor every woman who has every said no to anyone or anything because it is not highly looked upon for women to stand their ground]
to our every 'no' [a cheer. like a raising of the glass for women as a whole who have stood our grounds and have said no. we deserve a pat on the back.]
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 9:38 PM UTC
Lost to the in-mind,
Eyes almost teary with exhaustion as city exhaust expends my already weary body, (... mind... soul!...)
I walked into the washroom at Tilley's travel emporium (you know those hats you see on Steve Irwin? The stereotypically Australian saucers with a tilt like a collision? Tilley hats. They were invented by the creator of this store.)
and it smells like you.
all my weary head can imagine
is your
midnight mouse
of a snore
and
your
soft
lava-stone skin
the solar system of freckles on your shoulders
the stars of
birthmarks
on your
arm.
I say good night
as
Canada
tucks the 2 of us in
for the last time
until
April.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 12:20 AM UTC
I came to realise that everything in life,
Revolves around the shape, circle
The Earth revolves a round the Moon
The clock is stereotypically circle in shape
Your day to day cycle is shaped like a circle
And sadly, even my face is round too
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 5:57 AM UTC
Everything, unfortunately, that has happened to us holds weight.
We are what we have done and what has been done by others.
The mistakes that we are all stereotypically bound to make will undoubtedly have been made by others and hopefully we may recognize them for what they are and avoid them.
Past relationships help us make current ones better.
Past relationships can help us not get into a relationship that will be toxic.
And however obviously the facts stare me in the face
I cannot resist falling in love.
I cannot resist falling for a girl
who shares many of the same circumstances that my partner in a previous (toxic) relationship.
As appealing as it may be, never let your heart make your decisions for you.
Not when you have a perfectly stable brain allowing it to beat.
Above all I hold this principle to be true:
Do all the good you can do
and good will find you.
Albeit in a roundabout way, typically.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 2:31 AM UTC
This life didn't come with a manual
We're forced to manually go through its ups and downs
Getting spun around on society's notion of how to live
You see, society works like a model T factory
Trying to put us down a conveyor belt
Place us in a mold and push us out like that's really how we're supposed to be
They told me I need to graduate high school at 18 Finish college at 22
Then go to work wearing a tie in a cubicle
They told me I need to provide for a wife and two kids
Bring home the bread in the form of 5-6 figures
But here's what they didn't tell me
They didn't tell me what to do when college tuition was raised again
I mean I'm already eating three square meals of ramen noodles just to make the payments
They didn't tell me that the one class I need to graduate is no longer offered
So I came all this way just pick another major
They also didn't tell me that they only hire people with experience
Now I'm stuck with a piece of paper and mountain of debt
And it's one of the best kept secrets that society tried to hide the horror
That I paid 100 grand to say can I take your order
They also didn't tell me that it's hard to find my queen
In the sea of self-entitled princesses that only want my money
They want relations, they don't want relationships
They crave the attention but none of the commitment that comes with it
Society is so focused on creating a perfect standard of living
That they forgot to tell me what to do when it perfectly unravels in front of me
And they continue to push people out of the factory
While I'm swimming in the byproduct they conveniently left me
This life didn't come with a manual
So society can't fool me by creating rules on how to live
Because racial divides say we stereotypically live differently
Yet they continually expect us to live equally
I dared to be different and chose to live for me
I was sick of living vicariously through the rules of society
And decided I am the pilot to my own destination
Flying to my own creation of life
After all, this life didn't come with a manual
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC
unfortunately
I can never be stereotypically perfect
just like how you can
never
be the mother that
I wish you could be for me
How can I expect you to nurse me,
when you cannot even fix yourself
to begin with
you always said that teen pregnancy is
like a child taking care of another child
in this case
our "relationship" is
the blind leading the blind
I don't understand how you can look
me in the eye and tell me
you care because you don't
you are too busy judging me
to actually be my mother
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
It’s stereotypically said
that poets see beauty in everything.
Everything as in
the many ups and downs that life throws.
To a certain extent
it can be a true.
But, sometimes
beauty itself can be hidden.
And I wish to not find it.
Then it just shows up.
I see the lights of beauty
show up when I don’t want to see it.
It’s as if it forces its way
to be in plain sight,
to show off in my face.
Beauty shines of optimism.
This lets me know that
whatever I am going through
it will be overcome.
Mar 21, 2020
Mar 21, 2020 at 1:23 PM UTC
how can you "joke", and then excuse yourself
from the "joke", by stressing you
are "joking" - in that you are actually
being serious - with an overtone of
what would otherwise be held back
subconsciously - stereotypically -
how can you tell a "joke" -
whereby you subsequently excuse yourself
from the "joke" telling others:
it was all, but a joke... huh?!
that's the most clarifying misnomer
of the word joke i've ever heard:
i'm not actually telling a joke, but i am,
i must let you know, that once i tell the joke,
that i've made a joke,
and not a degrading comment;
aren't jokes supposed to be said with
an unconscious uncontrollable *** of laughter?!
i don't think jokes that make you think
actually exist... esp. those that are said
to be supposedly "jokes" in reminder of
a schema of generating laughter...
these western court "jesters" would have lasted
about an hour in vlad the impaler's court...
to tell a joke in order to tell the person
not laughing: oh, but it's a joke!
bad jokes deserve to be moulded
by rabie infested rottweilers,
salivating froth of being
unfed for a week,
into francis bacon sculptures of ripped
off flesh.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 8:51 PM UTC
I just want to know
That it's right by that
Feeling in my stomach
And I want it to be magical
Not stereotypically per se
But magical for me
And for her or for him
Because love is love
No matters what's in the pants
I want a love story
Not right now
But soon
I have always dreamed
Of having a high school sweetheart
And it could've been possible
If he wasn't abusive
If I noticed what she was trying to say
Or if he wasn't two-timing
I wonder if she knows
I digress
I want romantic
Like every girl deep down
I just want real love
But I want flings now
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 1:02 AM UTC