I heard the master plan—
Time to become a man—
Of which I was no fan.
Yes, I heard that damn plan,
From which I never ran.
I also wouldn’t scan—
I wasn’t any fan,
Hearing the master plan—
The real need to be man.
Still, I stayed—never ran—
I wouldn’t try to scan
Hearing the master plan.
No, I wasn’t a fan
Of the call to be man.
Yet, in time I did ban
Avoiding the whole scan—
Stopped staying—so I ran—
I knew the bastard plan
And I wasn’t a fan
Of pushing for a man.
Like grinding wheat for bran,
Yes, in time I did ban
My resistance to scan—
I didn’t stay—I ran.
No, I was not a fan,
Of being a damn man
It was never my plan.
Listen here if you can,
Like mealing wheat for bran,
I, me, will stop and scan
Anyone else’s plan.
Hell no, I am no fan
Of being just a man.
I heard the master plan—
But I won’t be a man.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: June 21st, 2025 07:25
- Comment from author about the poem: Form: Revelatory Cascade. This is the eleventh poem written in my original form.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence, Cheeky Missy, Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments7
Nicely done Tristan. This poem builds with each stanza reiterating each previous stanza and altering it to achieve a different end. Very nice
Thank you, my friend! Glad it delivered! Much appreciated, Soren! 🪞🏳️🌈🌾🖤
I like that each verse endorses the previous but at the same altering the end, very clever and interesting read, enjoyed very much
Indeed, my dear friend. Thank you so much for your time and thoughts! Much appreciated! 🪞🏳️🌈🌾🖤
You are very welcome
I thought the answer is/was 'always 42', as someone said somewhere. Not 42 episodes of?..... you knows! heehee.
Yes...there was some guide somewhere that pointed to that number up in a galaxy thingy or something, right? LOL! Well, 42 seems a bit low for the whole series, but maybe that would make one heck of a marathon! LOL!
Swoon! lol.
LOL!
So...lemme get this straight: I have six younger brothers who are all the best men in the universe, and you'll be my girlfriend?! Could you acquiesce to a more feminine angle to your given name? Or... was the call to be [whatever, it matters little] contrary to the physique originally given? I give up. I've, in my regrettable lack of any sleep whatsoever, undue stress from management screwing me out of water when I paid my bills early, and third shift, third shift, third shift when I cannot sleep except after the sun sets, yes, I've gotten me into a tangle from which I canna extricate meself. Beautifully rendered with excellent imagery and form, and an intriguing, baffling conclusion. Thank you for sharing.
Girlfriend, sister...human being. I just won't be a jerk if I can help it! I'm just tired of wearing labels thrust on me...across the board. I'm just me...and I think I finally like that...till the next poem where I don't. 🤣 Thank you my dear friend! I am glad the poem delivered. Your time, your thoughts, and your support mean the world to me, Missy! 🪞🏳️🌈🌾🖤
I know, give me a classic swirly, then mebbe I won't be so mixt up.
Ooh.... a classic swirly would just make things better all around! 😌 Hope you got some rest, my friend! Happy Sunday!
Excellent write Tristan
Thank you, my friend! Much appreciated! 🪞🏳️🌈🌾🖤
You're welcome
I always believe you are a wonderful lyricist and this is exceptional. A Man is judged on a lot of things I know. A superb powerful piece. 🌹
Thank you Teddy. That means the world to me. Thank you so much for your time, your thoughts, and your support. 🪞🏳️🌈🌾🖤
I was born genetically male to perform a certain reproductive function (that I opted out is neither here nor there). Beyond that is all societal norms and impositions.
What I cannot understand, and will never understand is why people would wish to subject their bodies to radical surgery and a lifetime of heavy duty medication to superficially appear to belong to the other side…
…I’m definitely too old, my ideas too antiquated…Thanks for putting up there a subject (if I’ve got it right) which gives me the irits from time to time, Tristan.😊
Yes. You have the subject right, my friend.
It’s taken me until now, but I am finally coming to understand myself and who I am. You are, of course, right. We are born with anatomical parts that may (or may not) function... and those are reproductive organs. The rest are labels and rules we assign or have assigned to us. 💯
I’m just realizing I don’t accept those labels. They aren’t who I am—never were. So, at the very least, I know I am non-binary.
This piece was part of that unfolding—me naming what I once couldn’t. 🪞🏳️🌈🌾🖤
Keep on unfolding Tristan - if you log any of it here, you know (and I believe you wouldn't mind) you most likely will get continuing debate from me. (tell me if you would rather I backed off).
Good luck on your journey - it isn't mine, but there should be plenty of room for all.
Oh hell no, my friend. I know you accept me and, to be honest, I can't wrap my head around myself so I don't dare try around others. So why would I hold you to a standard I can't live up to? All love toward you and your probing, Dave...and, of course, your poems! ❤️🙏
Yes, tricky subject for many - You'll note that apart from Missy, who had a go, everyone else left content alone and focused on form.
Dave, I’ve been thinking more about something you said:
“What I cannot understand, and will never understand is why people would wish to subject their bodies to radical surgery and a lifetime of heavy duty medication to superficially appear to belong to the other side…”
I’m not sure “would wish” really captures it.
Let me say upfront — I’m not feeling the need to change anything about myself physically or otherwise. That’s where I am, and at my age, that’s likely where I’ll stay. So I can’t speak for someone making that decision.
What I can speak to is the experience of being labeled, bullied, treated as “other.” Teachers called me “queerbait.” Peers made sure I knew I didn’t belong. People want others to be like them — and if they’re not, they feel threatened. Maybe it’s survival instinct. Maybe it’s just cruelty. Either way, it hurts.
After years of that, and decades of escaping with alcohol, I think I get it — or some of it.
People just want to be accepted for who they are, not for what people see.
For most cisgender people, their gender matches their assigned sex. But imagine waking up knowing you’re a woman, and the world insists on calling you a man. Imagine no one wants to date you because they think that’s “gay.” Imagine every time someone says “he” or “sir,” it feels like the universe calling you a lie.
Eventually, it starts to feel like dying would be easier.
Honestly? A lot of people have. I almost did. I was on a 25-year suicide-by-alcohol campaign. I just didn’t know how else to survive.
Not that this makes it easier to understand, but maybe that's just it—maybe it's not to be understood, just accepted.
Those are my thoughts for now. I love conversation Dave, and have always appreciated your willingness to honestly engage. Thank you.
Tristan, most of that I understand completely – being picked on and discriminated against because you weren’t butch enough. I’d judge that there has been an improvement (dare I say evolution?) in attitudes over the years in large portions of the community. I’ve observed this quite close and from afar.
(Quick autobiographical note: I’ve worked for a number of years in London West End theatre - back stage electrics - and on returning to Oz found a rooming house close to the city where I worked which happened to be just off the gay quarter in Sydney.. This is by no means the first time I’ve had discussions around this subject. I had a very close mate – me straight, he gay – and among many different topics we discussed and argued about, this one would come up from time to time).
So all I have left to ask is what does it mean to wake up and know you are a woman?
Dave, thank you for your openness. Truly.
As for your question — I don’t wake up knowing I’m a woman. I wake up knowing I’m not what I was told I had to be. Some days I feel both. Some days neither. Most days, I just wake up feeling human — and lately, that’s felt like enough.
What does it mean to be a “man” or “woman”? I used to think I knew. I don’t anymore — and honestly, I don’t need to. The labels themselves aren’t what nearly killed me. The pressure to wear them convincingly was.
I get that transgender identity can be hard to wrap one’s head around. It was for me, too. Still is some days. But this isn’t about having it all figured out — it’s about no longer living a lie. I came out because I want others to feel like they belong. Like they’re not alone in their self-discovery/recovery.
One note, gently: I noticed you said you “cannot” and “never will” understand. That’s a curious difference — can’t being ability, won’t being choice. Just a question to offer back for thought.
Thanks again for being someone willing to have the conversation. I, as I am sure you know by now, always value that.
Be well, my friend.
Take care Tristan on which ever path you take,- and good luck.
Thank you Dave. Looking forward to more interactions and more poetry, my friend! I truly appreciate you! 😌
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