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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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
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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 Bell Buoy
They christened my brother of old--
And a saintly name he bears--
They gave him his place to hold
At the head of the belfry-stairs,
Where the minister-towers stand
And the breeding kestrels cry.
Would I change with my brother a league inland?
(Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!
In the flush of the hot June prime,
O'er sleek flood-tides afire,
I hear him hurry the chime
To the bidding of checked Desire;
Till the sweated ringers tire
And the wild bob-majors die.
Could I wait for my turn in the godly choir?
(Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!
When the smoking scud is blown--
When the greasy wind-rack lowers--
Apart and at peace and alone,
He counts the changeless hours.
He wars with darkling Powers
(I war with a darkling sea);
Would he stoop to my work in the gusty mirk?
(Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not he!
There was never a priest to pray
There was never a hand to toll,
When they made me guard of the bay,
And moored me over the shoal.
I rock, I reel, and I roll--
My four great hammers ply--
Could I speak or be still at the Church's will?
(Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!
The landward marks have failed,
The fog-bank glides unguessed,
The seaward lights are veiled,
The spent deep feigns her rest:
But my ear is laid to her breast,
I lift to the swell--I cry!
Could I wait in sloth on the Church's oath?
(Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!
At the careless end of night
I thrill to the nearing screw;
I turn in the clearing light
And I call to the drowsy crew;
And the mud boils foul and blue
As the blind bow backs away.
Will they give me their thanks if they clear the banks?
(Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not they!
The beach-pools cake and skim,
The bursting spray-heads freeze,
I gather on crown and rim
The grey, grained ice of the seas,
Where, sheathed from bitt to trees,
The plunging colliers lie.
Would I barter my place for the Church's grace?
(Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!
Through the blur of the whirling snow,
Or the black of the inky sleet,
The lanterns gather and grow,
And I look for the homeward fleet.
Rattle of block and sheet--
"Ready about-stand by!"
Shall I ask them a fee ere they fetch the quay?
(Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!
I dip and I surge and I swing
In the rip of the racing tide,
By the gates of doom I sing,
On the horns of death I ride.
A ship-length overside,
Between the course and the sand,
Fretted and bound I bide
Peril whereof I cry.
Would I change with my brother a league inland?
(Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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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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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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I love it now that a large minority of people who are handicapped prefer to call themselves crippled. This is all part of the game, like queer theory.
quote by Leslie Fiedler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes his whole universe for a vast practical joke.
quote by Herman Melville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes the whole universe for a vast practical joke.
quote by Herman Melville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Visit To The Asylum
Once from a big, big building,
When I was small, small,
The queer folk in the windows
Would smile at me and call.
And in the hard wee gardens
Such pleasant men would hoe:
"Sir, may we touch the little girl's hair!"—
It was so red, you know.
They cut me coloured asters
With shears so sharp and neat,
They brought me grapes and plums and pears
And pretty cakes to eat.
And out of all the windows,
No matter where we went,
The merriest eyes would follow me
And make me compliment.
There were a thousand windows,
All latticed up and down.
And up to all the windows,
When we went back to town,
The queer folk put their faces,
As gentle as could be;
"Come again, little girl!" they called, and I
Called back, "You come see me!"
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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I Call You Friend
I call You kindness
I call You gentleness
I call You Truth.
I call You beauty
I call You wisdom
I call You Beloved.
I call You light
I call You trust
I call You father, mother,
daughter, son
I love You because I must
I call You Friend.
poem by Gillian Commerford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When Queer Eye hit, the church told my mom they were praying for me. She said, God loves him too. And I support him 100 percent.
quote by Jai Rodriguez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have fallen out of love with man
I have fallen out of love with man
We can not think together
He wishes to war his stay away
I wish to piece together peace.
Each battle for the soul of man
Is a battle fought on the wings
And the song that I sing toward peace
Each soul must be schooled to know
That the heat of war must grow cold
And we shall no more kill the life of our brothers
It’s a simple thing to let love ring
Its bell to tell that war is
A murder field
Man when will you seek to
End your murder, to call home
The boys that will ware a bullet hole in his chest.
poem by David E. Patton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sheer
Deer, seer, sheer, beer, queer, veer;
And like the trafficking of narcotic substances! !
Seer, deer, sheer, beer, queer, veer;
But their full names were withheld for security reasons,
Because of this illicit business!
Appearances,
Declined,
A court of law,
Honoured;
With circumstances beyond your control! !
But, the suspects were handed over.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Odd Ones Out (a Sonnet)
The odd ones out are not to blame
Although you cover them with shame,
Although you say they're queer and bent
Just because they're different.
How 'kind' of you to call them 'gay'
When if you really had your way
You'd beat them up, no doubt about it,
You'd make the bloody poofters pay!
And what about our crippled friends?
It's time for you to make amends -
They've been the butt of so many jokes
That you have shared with other blokes.
But they've got feelings, don't you see?
THEY NEED YOUR LOVE TO SET THEM FREE.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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First Encounter - Chinese Porcelain Expert Christian Jorg
Christian jorg
our talk tinkling like
merry making porcelain ware
christian jorg
a talk tinkling like
fine porcelain ware
Christian Jorg
the porcelain man's best love
is tribal art
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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