One Week Later

Every single nightmare I had while we dated is gone,
I'm able to stop worrying, stop fretting,
I can close my eyes and not be afraid
of what fresh hell awaits when I open them,
It has been a week, and I am already on my way
to forgetting you.

I no longer curl up into a ball when I think of you,
I've laughed harder and louder then when I was with you,
I smile without grimacing or hoping no one sees
the mask I'm wearing,
I can bloody eat cheese again!

I know you will call this narcissism or egomania or selfish behavior -
but too long did I concede for you,
too long did I let myself be lost to
whatever fancy or whim entered your mind.

It's been a week, and already your name is vanishing
from my lips,
already the memories of the feel of your skin
and the sight of your smile
leaves me,

I know this will take time, longer than I figure,
but I will be over you,
I won't go somewhere or do something and be
thrashed by the memories we had,
It will take time, but soon you will be a distant lesson
in what not to do in my life,
soon you will be what was - not what is.

You may never read this, but this is my final goodbye,
I'm moving on to sweeter airs and stronger loves,
I should worry about you and what pain has been caused,
but after searching within, no longer will the pain be inside,
This is me moving on, without doubt,

whether it is right or wrong,
this is me opening my eyes, seeing what newness awaits me tomorrow.

Truthful Breakdown

I used to yearn for your body at 3 am,
cry out for your voice in the morning,
dream of your smiles every second,
but what happened to the rings on my fingers,
what happened to the diamonds of emotions,
reflecting back what I thought were perfect memories.

Now I sit alone, pounding my head,
what the hell happened to us, to me?
I never questioned anything between us,
I wanted only beauty and fun,
but when we finally came back together,
we were no longer the same.

Anxiety and depression rotted the bond away,
both were clinging by barely a thread,
it only took me to realize that we weren't working,
the thread went up in flames.

I can't help but utter these awful words,
I don't know if I can help you through yours,
I'm racking my brain against my own anxiety,
and I don't know if I can say I love you anymore,
if I don't even love myself anymore.

I Love...

When you smiled at me for the first time,
when you laugh at one of my stupid jokes,
the different ring to the word when you called me "dork,"

When I realized that I looked forward to you being near me,
your complete love for things that people easily ignore,
the first time our skin touched, even if on accident, but destined,

When I had my first day-dream of us cuddled in bed,
When I opened up and showed you my emotional scars, and you showed me yours and said,
"look, they complete each other.."

When I roll over, and you are still there and it all wasn't a dream,
When you held my hand, as you introduced me to your folks,
the look in your eyes when I call out your name,

When you kiss me good morning, and kiss me good night,
when your happiness became my happiness,
the moment when you whisper in my ear,
"I love you."

Sobering Statistics

I'm tired of talkin' regular, and no one listenin', so I'm goin' to have to shout this one, and y'all will have to listen.

Let's see...It all started when I was 16, I came out as bi, and was instantly shouted down, being called a "faggot queen." You see, I lied to myself, desperate to get away from hate, I pushed myself back into the closet, not wanting to make family and friends irate. I wanted to be myself, but I also wanted to fit in, I turned to religion and church, whispered my plan to God, and he turned me around and said, guess again. I fed the sick and needy, held the lame and dying, clothed the naked, and gave room to the homeless. I saw that no matter what I did, problems still grew around me. I saw no help from the churches, no kind words or donations from pulpits or peoples. I grew stale in my love for fellow man, pushed away all who thought I was less than. I came out again, sashay and sequins, feather boas and bling-blingin'. I gave hope to those who could find none, kind words and prayers to the broken, love to the unwanted, trying to bring truth to the dishonest. I found out some things, about my fellow loving man, somethings that hurt themselves, but more often others.

This is where there are no rhymes. There are no jokes. There are no pleas. This is no longer where I sit silent. I'm going to say this, and it's going to hurt. We aren't doing enough.

153 million orphaned,
1.7 million youth homeless,
40% of them are lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender.

You wanna know why that number is mind-boggling high? 680,000 homeless lgbt youth? Does that give you a sick taste, a horrible gut feeling, a want to hold your nearest child, brother, or sister?

No? Then you're the problem. Those kids, their first bully? Mom and Dad and the rest of their family. No? Do I have to call upon the names of the angels who died this last year from suicide because their lives got so rough, that the final solution, was the only solution? Let me shout this one for the birds in the rafters, the rats under the floor boards, and for those ignoring me in the back;
If you give birth to your child, and say you don't care who they mature into, and then, as they grow older, they don't become what you want them to be - you. never. loved. them. You only loved your idea of them. You daughter is now Jack? Oh, you kicked him out, you turned your back, and you made his life hell. Your son is gay, he's just come out, looking for support, and you shot him down and made him lie in the dirt. You never realized that with your words leaving your mouth, that they would be the powder for the bullets, the knots in the noose, the breeze to push them over the cliff. They weren't the problem, you were.

I'll say it again, if your children aren't who you wanted them to be, you never loved them. You loved the idea of them. And you failed them.

Thank You.

No Longer Preachin' To The Choir

Dearest brothers and sisters of our most holy, more amazing, most awe-inspiring fellowship of word smiths, jumping jive janglers, sensual sirens, and confessional characters;

Every time I get up in front of you, I like to think I bare a little bit of my soul, share a little bit of my weathered heart. Bringin' forth some truths that may be a bit hard to swallow. Seasonin' your ears with fire spittin' out of my mouth.

I've talked at you about myself being a humble man, a hopeful man, a loving man, a broken man, an imperfect man.

I've talked at you about various social and religious plagues that not only inhabit our society, but have festered within us all, yours truly included.

I've talked about hypocrisies within society, unfair treatment of our brethren, making right with those we have wronged, loving those who have never seen love.

I've talked about all of this, to you, and still, I see some problems in our congregation.

Now, I'm done preachin' to the choir, I know most of you can testify to seeing these plights as well, so I'm going to speak to the rest of the congregation. I'm going to light a little fire under their seats. I'm going to make them sweat with discomfort, weep with jubilation, moan in ecstasy, and then I'm going to open my mouth.

So sit back, dear choir, because this young preacher is about to lay down the universal law.

Star-wrapped Lovers

Arctoe et Draco,

Bär und Drache,

Ours et Dragon,

Even the stars knew

That we would be together,

Ursa and Draco.

How tightly you wrap

Your claws and wings

And serpentine scaled

Body around mine.

We never dip into the sea

With each end or beginning

Of night, so too do

We not lose ourselves when

The other is no longer in

Our sight.

Ursa and Draco,

Bear and Dragon,

Together to love,

Together to last.

Lirica

The sea breeze bounces and rolls across the deck,

Flittering and fluttering and flapping

Towels and sun hats and every other cloth aboard.

The ship, at port, a standing floating

Maritime megalith of momentous Mediterranean

Class of cruise-liners.

Only at sea does one feel the pulse of life aboard –

Not just the sounds of every European tongue wagging,

But the subtle underfoot vibration of powerful engines,

The soft clinking and ice-in-metal clunking

Of the master of the mix-and-shake-and-pour,

The almost echo of metal knife-and-fork scraping

Against the glass and ornamental dishware within

The luxurious main dining areas.

This, all of this, just felt moments after stepping

Onto this sea-bound
Lirica.