Tag Archives: LGBT

Carving Board

I am not

your carving board

I. am. not. your carving board!

I am not the place to hold your

hatred when it’s dull edge

needs to feel souls bleed!

no

I am not your carving board!

I am not

your punching bag

I. am. not. your punching bag!

I am not skin holding your

worthlessness when i’s frayed image

needs to feel like it has knuckled teeth

no

I am NOT your punching bag!

I am not

your garbage bin

I. am. not. your GARBAGE BIN!

I am not the bone structure waiting

for the deragatory spit you spew

when language has your fill

no

I am NOT your garbage bin

I am not your sale

I am not your deal

I am not your break up

slide down

lay back and un-feel

while you thrill

I am not your undo

your untrue

your reason to forget

I am not your sin

your stick up fed up

get luck – y dirty

clothes pin

holding up the laundry

you refues to hang out

to dry

neither am I your

false pride

I am not your shadow lying

your peeping eye prying

your dogma flaunting

hatred signing

standing on the corner

mocking mourners

I am not your breaking

nor your entering

nor your black and blue

swinging

no.  nO. NO!

I AM courage

though you strike me

I AM bravery

though you cut

I AM authentic

though you disparage

I AM me

though you think I’m not

.

.

.

so no

I am not your cutting board

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Pursuit of Truth (haiku)

Life is contentious

the struggle for truth always

stalks us like lions

Ruby Red

She sits

lingering in the front of the mirror

with every intention of painting

smiles upon her lips

nails slightly chipped linger gently over

silver and gold flaked appliances

of her trade, she waits

for.  the….

right moment

when the song on the radio

evades sound and

transcendent bound – aries

then. she…

wades into life

painting away 5 o’clock

and men-tal

notes of doubt

with a pale concoction,    #7.

Leaning into reflections

the soft color of her skin

radiates bright with each

brush of perfection

with. each… brush

of.

there just right

she sits back and admires.

her – technique is flawless

her – skill untouched by fear

first the base of life

a touch of charcoal here and

here  .

a splash of smokey gray

a sparkle to accentuate play- fullness

delight – a butterfly in flight

and as the melody

rhapsodies to climax

she finalizes her transformation

with the stroke of midnight and

haiku

leaving behind any trace of

the who

is worn every day

from dread a.m. to just an hour ago;

and lives;

ruby red.

We will Stand

{{this is for the girls in Texas and every other person who has faced hatred- some have lost some have survived.  My heart is heavy but so are my words}}

We will Stand

They will come at you with fire and steel

with sharp edged teeth and claw

with suffocating hate filled smoke

broken glass taped words

to lash out in every manner of fear

they will come

they will come at you with stone and rod

breathing fire and brimstone words

with fingers twisted fist in fall

batter seeking lacerating law

filled with devastation

deviation of truths

stifle, riffle, ruffle and loot

every notion of dream

they will come pitchforked words

in halls of laws and carry their

continence of gods in and effort

to bend our knees

kiss our heads to the ground

BUT

we will stand

WE WILL STAND!

we will meet them with held hands

words edged with pride for who

we are and backs backed

a hundred fold of spirited

heart and girded souls

we will NOT go quietly

we will NOT perish without

our voices being heard

without one more

one more

another more

going down

We will stand

and when one more

is going down

we will step forward

we WILL step forward

and should all of we

turn in to me

I will meet them

all the same.

Who is Wesley?

Part 2 to Wesley’s Words

The face was circled
to near perfection
in faded red
on black and white
with the words
‘what is a life’
written pain
stak
ing
ly
small along the white
edge
neither mingling
meandering nor merging
with the photo paper’s
story
but filling Mason’s head
driving his hands
veined with hours
of plays, throws
and connections
to waver over glass
trace the words
to perfection
and wonder
what is a life…
…what is a life?

The circled
young boy
stared out from
hundreds
other faces
eyes seeing places
and dreams of
the future
so obvious
was the obliviousness
of this
young man
as if his dreams
were so far out
there was no
light
no future
reflecting back.
then the words
what is a life…
…what is a life?
came slamming back

Coach was old
his words made no sense
nonsense
figure it out
figure what out?!
why, how
when?
This is ridiculous!
Mason didn’t need
this…

What is a life?

The picture hastily
shoved to precariously
to haphazardly
tossed to the
edge
to the edge…
crashing smashing
tumbling down
from the bedside
to the ground
in pieces
frame and bits
lay more than just
a photo graph
a softer edge
lay unearthed
from tomb of wood
and glass.

LOCAL BOY
DEAD.
Five teens where
questioned in the
death of a local boy
this evening.
A call tipped off police
to patrol the area
off of 5th and Grand.
A scream
A scuffle
A muffled
brawl? perhaps.
The line went dead.
the operator said
The line went dead.
The five men
remain in custody.
Names withheld
due to the sensi-
tivity
of crime
and time
but sources suspect…
a sixth.

Mason skipped the rest.
Local boy, dead.
his age
ripped from a page
of yesterday
lived on the other
side of tracks
with
a nobody no letter no jacket
no money no future
no life
no life cuz
he’s dead.
Found with a pink barrette
clutched in his hand
and F@66%7
scrawled on his back
in indelible ink
to obviously sink more meaning
as his attackers
tattooed their
judgement into
his black and
blue
skin.

what is a life?

An article 30 days later
stapled
and worn
confirmed a sinking
suspicion
The 5 were part of the
Local High 6.
but no proof
no
ev-i-dence
no recollection
or defection
of witnesses
no sense of right
or wrong
no candle light vigil
no memento or
mournful sigil to mark
the young life passing
by.
Even this passage
was relegated in
subterranean
cache
just above the lottery
numbers
page 8
where this hate
ful incident
and
obstruction of
a justice-less life
for
Wesley
was left
to be forgotten
as if it would be
forgotten
and
it was…
save by one.

and
Mason kept on
tracing the words
in his head

What is a life?
What is a life… 
worth.

911 TRANSCRIPT – May 7th, 1969
Police Operator 2472
What’s your emergency?

{{Whispers}}

5th and Grand
a scuffle, fight, a boy down.

What is the location?

5th and GRAND!

{{typing}}

5th and G.R.A.N.D?

YES!

{{TYPING}}

What’s your name?

My name? I.. um… Mar…
Damnit man
You have to send
someone?
like now!

{{typing}}

Can I have you name son?

{{more typing}}

Sir,  Let me get your …
Sir are you there?……………
sir…….
hello?……

Upside Right Thinking

earth circle round

get pushed up

get back down

the world is sometimes up

side right and

Somedays we lose

all our fight

but just when

the when is too much

to think about

the sun rises

the moon sets

and another day

dawns with another

chance to take a step

towards courage

us, change.

Charlie’s smile

He mumbles

when he talks

the

wound of his voice

barely reaches the floor

as he searches for

escapes out

on his way down the hall

in too high jeans

and a belt

anchoring him to self

so he doesn’t slip

out of

place.

His hands grip books

covers and shields

deflecting the

pushes, punches

and wielded words

sharper than edges

of the door way

he often finds

himself greeting

every Monday

and Wednesday

at 8:05.

He is brilliant

in his mental

meanderings

of geometry

calculus

and science

his

mind sees puzzles like

diamonds to be

polished

clear and bright

as the bruises he

hides from the

inevitable trip

to the bathroom

trip

to the bathroom

trip in the bathroom

he just tripped

and

he doesn’t complain

he keeps up appearances

as the soles of his feet

keep account of

the days till

he can stand

straighter

be handsome…er

be

important

because

his mother says

he will be

and right now he

still believes her

even as the waves

of every suck the wind

you don’t get in today

you must be gay

because no girl

would want you

lingers at the gate

of his educational

hell

the bell

is

ringing

in his ears on the way

home and if

he walks a little faster

if he

catches the right

canter, carry and case

the Thursday Crew

won’t give chase

the

Thursday crew won’t

chase

wont

chase…

He just tripped in

the bathroom…

And His eyes are blue

like the ocean

in berm-u-da

so

his mother says

as she asks

him each morning

to keep his

head up

and smile,

the world will smile

back

but…

she doesn’t

know…

today is Monday.

It’s Monday…

and

He”ll just trip

in the bathroom.

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I want to shed a poetic light on abuse, in-equality, and bullying.  It is one thing I can do in my every day life to help make a difference.  You can too, by sharing a piece here that speaks to you to someone that may need to hear it.  Or if nothing else, visit one of the organizations I support like Over My Shoulder FoundationThe L-ProjectDiversity Role Models, Trevor Project, and Give a Damn Campaign.

Reach out today and make a difference in the life of someone who can’t. You will find the weight of love, the burden of friendship, and the plight of forgiveness is more joyful than the lightness of forget, the sweetness of popular, or the treasure of perfection.

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

but

…. 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

…..