Tag Archives: Gays

The Life of Bea

She walks with shuffle

cuffle and flop

in worn out shoes

and worn out tops

her hands are small

pale porcelin envy

eyes of dew drop gray

dream of anything

but life today

She lingers in the back

most hours

clinging to shade

and inconsequential hue

praying to gods

spit, spite, and throttle

forget she exists

as she dreams of anything

but this

Her hair is neat

her glasses new

ish, through which the

world is viewed

in shades of black

purple and blue

her ears are revolving doors

of not good enough

four eyes and hell-bound troll

stupid fucker and

filthy mole who should

NEVER have been born


…. there are days

when hands reach out

when voices confront

shove, bite, and anguish

and words of

it will be ok, you are loved

come out to play

be with me and

you ARE beautiful…

when you smile,

whisper on her behalf.

In those moments

she is alive

and reminded

hope exists somedays

though most days

she dreams life is

not today

this is the life of Bea.

this is the life of bea

this is the life of


To my younger self

You are

exactly who you should be

not an ounce grown

in the wrong


The seed of your


grow beautifuly


not a smidge

out of line or


Your character is

witfully designed

trustfully divine

not a sinuew of

soul is placed

in the trash bin

or going

to hell because

love is not a sin

you’re not ugly

or unlikable

unworthy or


don’t listen to them

their snide remarks

their better than’s

because in the end

you turn out just fine


live a life

they said you would

not dare



when they cast your

lots beneath the stands

while you step up

soloed from the band

when they laugh at

clothes handed down

or the silver shining

in that smile

when they poke

prod and manipulate

throw, hit, and

simply hate


don’t you look in the mirror

and do

the same thing


You are

exactly who you should be

not an ounce grown

in the

wrong direction.

See me as I am

{in honor of today – Day of Silence}

I speak not a word
for the word distracts you
from the reality we are the same
I walk into a store and am
turned away
because you do not serve my kind
I walk down the aisle
and I am arrested
because the constitution has no room
I am discovered
and dragged out and beaten
because my love is hated
I am vocal
and you see an agenda
instead of our sameness
so today
I speak not a word
So you can only do one thing



My Day of Silence

I remember a day of silence. It was not a day of rememberance, nor a day of joy, nor a day of  being brave, nor a day for courage. It was a day of silence – of no acknowledgement of my existance. And I remember it well.

A perceived slight at the hands of this geek

this braces wearing

band playing, A making

never popular

ever on the outside

set a off a fire storm

from every girl

in school.

Not a single one

lifted their eyes

lifted a hand

lifted a smile

lifted a word

for an entire day.

Not a single

girl, had a thing

to say

to me.

Save two

just outside of the

‘ones’ the perfected

the wealthy

the beautiful

the wanted

the non-hand-me-down

I get around



everyone seeing,

and everyone ‘loved’,

decided to shed

light and give

me a clue

to what was


and why.

The crime?

was lingering

in the favor of the boy down

the street

who had taken a liking

to me;

we spoke

and broke every rule

of highschool love affairs

which clearly states

in everything but greek

an ex-lover can never

speak to a geek

and soon the speak

became a speck

a peck

a kiss

a lingering desire

and the world then

was set on fire

and they conspired to

make me pay

in the only

way possible

to not cause confusion

or retribrution

from the leadership

and the pastors

of churches

preachers, teachers

and mothers….




don’t lift a word

to the satisfaction

of heard

don’t smile

or greet

not a hand shake

or eye to meet


meet me.

And this day was just one

of many

but it is indellibly marked

upon memory

without fail or forgetfulness

I recall all their faces

sitting on benches and

taking their places

in the history of my mind

and I regret not

being strong enough to

fight back

to just stand up and not

care to failing to

find silence my friend

but in a school of less than 400

where everyone knows

everyone’s sister, brother,

father and mother

that is

not an easy feat for

a young teen to


and though I confronted

I witted

wiled and wisely

wiggled out ever

word to stop the

day I heard

no sound

that day

will remain

as will the faces of the

season and her ‘cheer’sisters…

and the only good

that came of it

is I am determined

to not let it

happen again




{{written in e.e.cummings style}}


Memory is more fragile than porcelain

more strong than granite’s soul

more stuck on repeat than mockingbird

more weightless then summer’s gold

it is maddeningly vivid and vivacious

and sanely it nevermore is

than all the stars flickering in violent

contraction are beautiful

Memory is less forever than rainbows

less forgetful than why

less remembered than sometimes

less hopeful than unhurt

It is always loud in soft places

and never quiet in traffic jams

or when all the night has

covered land, and see and eyes

Memory is tougher than hide

more weaker than shattered glass

and only when cats have tongues

will memory ever be unlast

Lift one person up

Lift one person up today –
even if that person is
Because despite
whatever or whoever
is in your way
pushing down
or telling you to stay
you are different
un-[Insert any word here you would want to be]
you are none of those things

You are beautiful…. the way you are….

and I don’t mean only
after you get dressed
after you have put on make- up
tied your best tie
done your hair
or put on your favorite [insert any fav attire here]
I mean naked to the soul
down right open and readable
from the scar on your left cheek
that no one can see
to the birth mark you hide
to the hand you want to hold
to the secrets you’ve never told
to the thoughts screaming out
even when words can’t slipout …

you are beautiful.

And I am beautiful.
And you, and you, and yes
you in the back…

you are beautiful

AND without you – the world would be less beautiful…
don’t you get it….
Because I want you to get it
I want you to absorb
what I am telling you…
absorb the words
I am spelling out
at this mic
this stage
with these words
these hands
this heart…

There will be boots in your face
there hands barring your way
gut kicks and
laws from men you don’t even know
that try to break you
but if I have learned one thing
in my 38 years of living a life
– of which most of them were lived in ugly silence –
is that you are beautiful
and the more beautiful people standing
with you and beside you
that you
LET stand
with you
and beside you….
the smaller the ugly gets.


Lift one person up today – even if that person is just yourself… because despite whatever or who ever is in your way, pushing you down or telling you to stay away, that you are different, unworthy, unloved, un-[insert any word here you would want to be] – you are none of those things…

The way you are.

The L Project Video

I have been trying very hard to only put poetry on my site – but I am making an exception here.  This video touches on something that is very close to my heart – some girls across the pond made wrote and performed this song about “It Gets Better” – they are The L Project.   Please watch this video and then download the song – it goes to raise awareness and money for charities working to prevent LGBT bullying among young people.

If you can’t view the video in this window – go directly to YouTube here >> It Does Get Better

Visit The L Project Web Page


I spit it

I spit it
trip it
wrap it in words
to be heard.
my lyrical
of voices
inside my head
begging for life,
instead dead
at accusation
peaceful confrontation
140 character

I spit it
kick it
paper thru rhyme
laid out in lines
of thought
spewed out
not taught
to teach not preach
my intentions
my rage against
this political
and theological
they place me in.

I spit it
kiss it
make love
and try not to miss it.
feelings rising
boisterous and chaotic
like Poe on acid
and Walton choking
on plastic,
mixing my disease
with your political relief
or so you would have it.
separate and distort

my retort?

I spit it
piss it
try to enlist it.
the blood in me
White, Irish, Italian
and Cherokee.
I bleed to see my oppressor
a fine imitated successor
first black
then gender base
denying life, liberty
and pursuit of…
but wait
it’s all still hate!

I spit it
hit it
slam my words
against walls
like grenades
in succession,
I take out my pen
and orchestrate
against oppression.
in common words
Like Thomas Paine,
Just try to be heard.

and it’s
not that I don’t understand
your position
your egotistical
maniacal transitions
from what you know
to who you blow.
I get your opposition
to me
whilst you drink
wine forcefully
with hostility
and define my reality

But this is not chosen freely.
I have to be

I spit it
seize it
with opportunity
I breathe it,
trying not to
on the tsunami
of anger
in an effort
to not regurgitate
the same message
of equality,
but it is
the only thing
I see,
different between
you and me,
In this land
of the
supposedly free.

So I spit it
trip it
wrap it up in words
to be heard
my lyrical
singular evolution of
voices inside my head
begging for life
avoiding death.