It's A Queer Time
It's hard to know if you're alive or dead
When steel and fire go roaring through your head.
One moment you'll be crouching at your gun
Traversing, mowing heaps down half in fun:
The next, you choke and clutch at your right breast -
No time to think - leave all - and off you go…
To Treasure Island where the Spice winds blow,
To lovely groves of mango, quince and lime -
Breathe no good-bye, but ho, for the Red West!
It's a queer time.
You're charging madly at them yelling 'Fag!'
When somehow something gives and your feet drag.
You fall and strike your head; yet feel no pain
And find… you're digging tunnels through the hay
In the Big Barn, 'cause it's a rainy day.
Oh, springy hay, and lovely beams to climb!
You're back in the old sailor suit again.
It's a queer time.
Or you'll be dozing safe in your dug-out -
A great roar-the trench shakes and falls about
You're struggling, gasping, struggling, then… hullo!
Elsie comes tripping gaily down the trench,
Hanky to nose-that lyddite makes a stench -
Getting her pinafore all over grime.
Funny! because she died ten years ago!
It's a queer time.
The trouble is, things happen much too quick;
Up jump the Boches, rifles thump and click,
You stagger, and the whole scene fades away:
Even good Christians don't like passing straight
From Tipperary or their Hymn of Hate
To Alleluiah-chanting, and the chime
Of golden harps… and… I'm not well to-day…
It's a queer time.
poem by Robert Graves
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Related quotes
The Maid-Servant At The Inn
"It's queer," she said; "I see the light
As plain as I beheld it then,
All silver-like and calm and bright-
We've not had stars like that again!
"And she was such a gentle thing
To birth a baby in the cold.
The barn was dark and frightening-
This new one's better than the old.
"I mind my eyes were full of tears,
For I was young, and quick distressed,
But she was less than me in years
That held a son against her breast.
"I never saw a sweeter child-
The little one, the darling one!-
I mind I told her, when he smiled
You'd know he was his mother's son.
"It's queer that I should see them so-
The time they came to Bethlehem
Was more than thirty years ago;
I've prayed that all is well with them."
poem by Dorothy Parker
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I Wish I Was Queer So I Could Get Chicks
If your ass is a Chinese restaurant I'll have the poo-poo platter
My friend Jerry Vandergrift kissed me in Home Ec. class
Later in the afternoon some jarheads in the locker room kicked my ass
I said guys I'm like you I like Monster Trucks too
Wanna see how many push-ups I can do?
I just wish I was queer so I could get chicks
Chicks dig guys that are
Queer guys that don't dig
Chicks that don't dig guys like me
See I'm not queer I'm too ugly
But if I were handsome just imagine how great it would be
Incognito as gay though but not actually that way though pseudo homo phony
Maybe it's a stupid theory or maybe just stupidity
But if I was a queerbee in the fashion industry
Scoring with a super model would be easy
Cause 'super model' means voluptuous but is also is synonomous with 'super dumb'
Ya see I'd be a good listener so she'd treat me like a sister and soon I'd become
That trusted friend that cares that rubs her back and braids her hair
No it wouldn't be a week before I'm in her underwear
I wish I was queer so I could get chicks
Chicks dig guys that are
Queer guys that don't dig
Chicks that don't dig guys like me
See I'm not queer I'm too ugly
Doesn't matter what I'm packin' in my denim it's what's in my genes
The only smoked meat the only sausage I would eat is made by Jimmy Dean
See I'm not to keen on the smell of Vaseline
No I'm not Princess Di and I don't wanna be a queen
I wish I was queer so I could get chicks
Anyway if I were gay I'd have to change my name to Dirk or Lewis
Hang out with my mom's hair stylist his name is Kip he's got a lisp he talks like this
And wear my mother's lingerie learn the songs of Broadway
And appreciate Depeche Mode and avant garde ballet
I wish I was queer so I could get chicks
Chicks dig guys that are
Queer guys that don't dig
Chicks dig guys that are
Queer guys that don't dig
Chicks dig guys that are
Queer guys that don't dig
Chicks that don't dig guys like me
See I'm not queer I'm too ugly
And I don't shave my heiny
Don't shave my heiny
See I'm not queer I'm too ugly
song performed by by Bloodhound Gang from One Fierce Beer Coaster
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Have You Seen Jackie?
Have you seen jackie?
Hes a strange strange strange little girl
Make up on his face and his hair in curls
Have you seen jackie?
Shes a strange strange strange little boy
Her long black beard is her pride and joy
And all the children follow him around
And all the grownups try to drag her down
So we sing
Hey, leave jackie alone
Hey, his pigeons have flown
Hey, shes never at home at all these days
Leave jackie alone
Have you seen jackie?
Hes an odd odd odd little fish
To fly around is his only wish
Have you seen jackie?
Shes a queer queer queer little bird
Shy and quiet neither scene nor herd
And all the rats will follow him around
The dogs and cats will chase her from the town
And we sing
Hey, leave jackie alone
Hey, his mind is all blown
Hey, shes not on the phone at all these days
Leave jackie alone
Jackie couldnt decide if he was a girl
Or if she was a boy
Have you seen jackie?
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Multiple Choice III: American Literature
please choose one only: Walt Whitman
1) was queer and wrote Leaves Of Grass
2) was queer but wrote Leaves Of Grass
3) was simply queer
4) had a blisterig affair with Thomas Eakins
5) none of the above
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bough of Nonsense
AN IDYLL
Back from the Somme two Fusiliers
Limped painfully home; the elder said,
S. “Robert, I’ve lived three thousand years
This Summer, and I’m nine parts dead.”
R. “But if that’s truly so,” I cried, “quick, now,
Through these great oaks and see the famous bough
”Where once a nonsense built her nest
With skulls and flowers and all things queer,
In an old boot, with patient breast
Hatching three eggs; and the next year…”
S. “Foaled thirteen squamous young beneath, and rid
Wales of drink, melancholy, and psalms, she did.”
Said he, “Before this quaint mood fails,
We’ll sit and weave a nonsense hymn,”
R. “Hanging it up with monkey tails
In a deep grove all hushed and dim….”
S. “To glorious yellow-bunched banana-trees,”
R. “Planted in dreams by pious Portuguese,”
S. “Which men are wise beyond their time,
And worship nonsense, no one more.”
R. “Hard by, among old quince and lime,
They’ve built a temple with no floor,”
S. “And whosoever worships in that place,
He disappears from sight and leaves no trace.”
R. “Once the Galatians built a fane
To Sense: what duller God than that?”
S. “But the first day of autumn rain
The roof fell in and crushed them flat.”
R. “Ay, for a roof of subtlest logic falls
When nonsense is foundation for the walls.”
I tell him old Galatian tales;
He caps them in quick Portuguese,
While phantom creatures with green scales
Scramble and roll among the trees.
The hymn swells; on a bough above us sings
A row of bright pink birds, flapping their wings.
poem by Robert Graves
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Men on t v ware lip stick
Men on t v ware lip stick
But when I do it they call me queer
Men in church ware long black dresses
But when I ware one they call me queer
Men on the football field slap each other
On the buttocks
But when I do it they call me queer.
poem by David E. Patton
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All the world is queer save thee and me. And even thou art a little queer.
quote by Robert Owen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All the world old is queer save thee and me, and even thou art a little queer.
quote by Robert Owen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Height of the Ridiculous
I WROTE some lines once on a time
In wondrous merry mood,
And thought, as usual, men would say
They were exceeding good.
They were so queer, so very queer,
I laughed as I would die;
Albeit, in the general way,
A sober man am I.
I called my servant, and he came;
How kind it was of him
To mind a slender man like me,
He of the mighty limb.
"These to the printer," I exclaimed,
And, in my humorous way,
I added, (as a trifling jest,)
"There'll be the devil to pay."
He took the paper, and I watched,
And saw him peep within;
At the first line he read, his face
Was all upon the grin.
He read the next; the grin grew broad,
And shot from ear to ear;
He read the third; a chuckling noise
I now began to hear.
The fourth; he broke into a roar;
The fifth; his waistband split;
The sixth; he burst five buttons off,
And tumbled in a fit.
Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye,
I watched that wretched man,
And since, I never dare to write
As funny as I can.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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In the Orchard
'I thought you loved me.' 'No, it was only fun.'
'When we stood there, closer than all?' 'Well, the harvest moon
Was shining and queer in your hair, and it turned my head.'
'That made you?' 'Yes.' 'Just the moon and the light it made
Under the tree?' 'Well, your mouth, too.' 'Yes, my mouth?'
'And the quiet there that sang like the drum in the booth.
You shouldn't have danced like that.' 'Like what?' 'So close,
Whith your head turned up, and the flower in your hair, a rose
That smelt all warm.' 'I loved you. I thought you knew
I wouldn't have danced like that with any but you.'
'I didn't know, I thought you knew it was fun.'
'I thought it was love you meant.' 'Well, it's done.' 'Yes, it's done.
I've seen boys stone a blackbird, and watched them drown
A kitten... it clawed at the reeds, and they pushed it down
Into the pool while it screamed. Is that fun, too?'
'Well, boys are like that... Your brothers...' 'Yes, I know.
But you, so lovely and strong! Not you! Not you!'
'They don't understand it's cruel. It's only a game.'
'And are girls fun, too?' 'No, still in a way it's the same.
It's queer and lovely to have a girl...' 'Go on.'
'It makes you mad for a bit to feel she's your own,
And you laugh and kiss her, and maybe you give her a ring,
But it's only in fun.' 'But I gave you everything.'
'Well, you shouldn't have done it. You know what a fellow thinks
When a girl does that.' 'Yes, he talks of her over his drinks
And calles her a--' 'Stop that now, I thought you knew.'
'But it wasn't with anyone else. It was only you.'
'How did I know? I thought you wanted it too.
I thought you were like the rest. Well, what's to be done?'
'To be done' 'Is it all right?' 'Yes.' 'Sure?' 'Yes, but why?'
'I don't know, I thought you where going to cry.
You said you had something to tell me.' 'Yes, I know.
It wasn't anything relly... I think I'll go.'
'Yes, it's late. There's thunder about, a drop of rain
Fell on my hand in the dark. I'll see you again
At the dance next week. You're sure that everything's right?'
'Yes,' 'Well, I'll be going.' 'Kiss me...' 'Good night.' ... 'Good night.'
poem by Muriel Stuart
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Roseville
Since All Of My Remembering
Of Times So Innocent And So Clean
These Images Rush In With A Roar
Of Times And Acts That Were A Horror
My Folks Moved To Roseville When We Were So Young
To Protect Us From The Hazards Of A World Gone Wrong
Little Did They Know What A Mess They've Made
By Moving Us Out Here A Price Would Be Paid
A Childhood Spent Having Innocent Fun
Between 5 And Eight With My Friends We'd Run
Playing In The Fields Across The Street
Little Did We Know Just What We'd Meet
Older Boys Came Along Just To Play With Us
Spinning Us Around, Beneath Our Skirts With Thrusts
Diddling All Around In Between Our Legs
Little Did We Know We Were Being Pegged
They Would Fumble Here And Grumble There
Unzipping Their Old Trousers Just To Have A Share
Being Little Girls, What All Did We Know
We'd Just Play Along Until They Would Go
This Type Of Thing Went On Every Spring Til Fall
We'd Be Wondering What They Were Doing At All
We Were Happy That They Would Take Time With Us
We Were Just So Young What Was All The Fuss
Then One Day A Big Brother Of My Friend Appeared
Said To The Other Older Boy's "Hands Off My Sisters, Hear? "
In My Mind It All Then Became Oh So Clear
That These Older Boys Were Just Being Queer
The Next Time That They All Came Running Around
I Said I Don't Like The Way You Want To Play Around
But They Didn't Listen All And Penetrated My Best Friend
I Ran As Fast As I Could Hoping It Would End
But I Was Chased And That Raji Did Say
Don't Tell Anyone As I Ran Away
But I Cut My Foot To The Bone So Cruel
Being So Innocent, Didn't Know What To Do
Didn't Tell My Mom, Didn't Tell My Dad
I Was So Ashamed That I'd Been So Had
How Could Playing Around Turn To Something So Foul
So I Wrapped My Foot And Began To Howl
Did This Kind Of Thing Happen Everywhere
With Everyone Around, Not Even Saying Whats Fair
We Believed In The Justice Of Living Out A Good Life
How Could So Much Go Wrong And Cause So Much Strife
Living In Roseville Did Mess Up My Head
With So Many Queer Folk Boys And Men So Dead
To The Rights And The Thoughts Of What's All Good And Fair
With Their Pedophilic Actions To Do Such Wrong Down There
These Are My Images Of Growing Up So Serene
And Protected From The Filth Of Detroit And That Scene
What A Joke Now Do I So Realize
That Living In Roseville Was Just A Cradle Of Lies
poem by Talile Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trauma Of Time
Time Fades The Smile, Not The Pain.
Time Drains The Water Not The Damage From The Rain.
Time Fades The Tomorrow Not The Yesterday.
Time Fades The Cuts But The Scars Never Go Away.
Time Fades The Sweetness Not All The Things Sour.
Time Fades Those Few Precious Moments But Not The Crippling Hour.
Time Fades The Sun, Not It’s Brutal Remains.
Time Fades The Photographs Not There Stains.
Time Fades The Lessons Not All The Things That I’ve Learned.
Time Puts Out The Fire But Not The Days I Burned.
Time Fades The Colors Not The Glaring White.
Time Fades The Bruises Not The Darkness In The Night.
Time Fades The Happiness Not The Tears.
Time Fades The Triumphs Not The Fears.
Time Fades The Storm Not The Ocean.
Time Fades The Memories Not The Emotion.
Time Fades The Dreams Not The Nightmare.
Time Fades The Hand Not The Times You Weren’t There.
Time Fades The Beauty Not The Gloom.
Time Fades The Doors And Windows Not The Empty Room.
Time Fades The Love Not The Empty Lie.
Time Fades The Hello But Never The Goodbye.
poem by Bridgid Patrick
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When I first started to write, I was aware of being queer, but I didn't write about it. Queer poems would probably not have been accepted by the editors I sent them to.
These names: gay, queer, homosexual are limiting. I would love to finish with them. We're going to have to decide which terms to use and where we use them. For me to use the word ""queer"" is a liberation; it was a word that frightened me, but no longer.
quote by Derek Jarman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Queer Eye for the Straight Guy is a form of service journalism. To be successful, I think it has to be a combination of a good story, it has to be funny, and it also needs to be packed with useful information.
Beyond The Rainbow
I want to know what's beyond the Rainbow I see
Decided to leave here right now
I start to walk away on this rainy day
It makes me feel good so I won't give up
Then I came to there where the Rainbow is
It began to feel like a dream
I had never seen such a lovely place before this day
Life is a travel through time a mysterious path
Just hold on tight then You will carry on
If You feel a lot of rain inside Your soul
Get rid of the pain and keep Your head hold high
Then You'll come to there where the Rainbow is
It begins to feel like a dream
You will never see such a lovely place again
song performed by by Zonata
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Queer
First time he saw him was
A new york city cafe
Walked into that room
Things would really change
He had too much to drink
Guess he didnt think about his family
What went wrong
You could be his woman
You could be his man
You could be his queer
You could be his drug store slam
You could be his woman
And I hope your family understands
Second time he saw him was
The south of france
Some passion fashion disco
And a bastards dance
What went wrong
Or what went right
That night
Was it love?
You can be his woman
You can be his man
You can be his queer
You can be his drug store junkie slam
Real love doesnt come so easy when youre on your knees
Say please
Guess its just a figure of speech
Lifes got its lessons to teach
Just like fuzz on a peach
But be careful where you reach
Man I can only tell you
Sex is dangerous
(chorus)
Didnt know what was gettin into you
song performed by by 58
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No G. D. M.
Wanna be a great dark man,
Being but a lesbian.
You are perfect you are sheer,
If you are a red haired queer.
Thats life, one dice,
Cest la vie, ma cherie,
But it really doesnt matter.
No gdm, no great dark man
No gdm, no great dark man
There wont be a great dark man
If I am a red haired queer
You are perfect, you are sheer
If you are a red haired queer
Tel aviv, had a sniff,
Cest la vie, ma cherie,
But it really doesnt matter.
Yellow teeth between pink lips,
I like sher with a crazy lock
Perfume behind a lobe of ear,
Rouge on my face hides my beard.
Long violet finger nails,
I adore those magic tales,
I dont mind, I dont mind
Wanna be a great dark man,
Being but a lesbian.
You are perfect you are sheer,
If you are a rat tat queer.
Thats life, one dice,
Cest la vie, ma cherie,
Tel aviv, had a sniff,
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Feel Like Talking
“There is a talk about you at the house,
Sit down for it is not a tale but a sad pity;
Your master is a liar, and you have no goal,
So happen like a lad of distress to gain pity,
Like the one lodged in the throat.”
At this snatch was a key to discussion,
For the master was a scoundrel always;
The master refused the lad and so innocence
Arrives, with queer things, queer ways,
Like the pity of a lifetime at the house.
“Flit out of doors so that you arrive,
Feeling able as you do, like a fine lad”;
The keys turn the door to alleviate the suffering
And then knowledge arrives to mock,
Feeling the fire of the mansion and everything.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Your Philosophy
you make it candid
nothing of the non-transparent twists and turns
direct to the point
no holds bar nothing to hide
you say what is in your mind
you call a spade a spade a square is a square
not a queer queer queer ideal,
you don't write a poem it is pointless to write any
you live your life
you rhyme
you count every step like a meter
a haiku
a sonnet
you like it crisp and short and
always saying less
to anything
a trek on the mountainside
feeling the ways of the snake
rather than talk and talk
duck quacking
you say, 'plunge! '
live life
do not let it just be written by them
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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