In highschool I thought I liked girls
I thought it wasn't right, to even look
that if I tried it would be different, abnormal
I didn't know it was okay
To want to kiss another girl
To touch another girl
That it would be a violation
I wouldn't be liked back
I thought I had to be a certain way
dress a certain way
act a certain way
I didn't wear make up, but also didn't wear masculine clothing
I was just me
I got stares from butch lesbians that were in gangs
I was frightened and alone
"What are you staring at?" if I looked back
Looks based off of intimidation
this wasn't me, this wasn't it
I tried to date men, same ole same ole
video games, boredom,
not having drive
it wasn't interesting, it wasn't making my heart race
going through one motion to another
I was told that I was just making it up
That I was pretending
That I was doing it for attention
Fantasizing about female celebrities
I then came out to myself
dated a girl
who wasn't a girl
he was genderqueer
he was trans
and it all began
I was attracted to beyond the gender binary
2 dollar margarita nights
at the gay bar in New York
queers stumbling, fumbling, sweating, dancing
going outside to just
light a cigarette for some pretty girl
connect with eyes
just to talk
just to have a connection
Turns to quick sexual experiences
With a blink of an eye
She kisses me, she wants me
She want's go further
That wasn't me
I don't know you
you don't know my heart
Then I met you
Wrong pronouns at the grocery store
No correction, you know who you are
Questions on identification, even at the gay bar
It's okay, you understand
Under the Christmas lights of my room
in my bed
with your smell left in my sheets
I'm so happy, I'm filled with joy
Tears rushing down my face
I can't believe I'm in love
I would like to take a moment, to talk about gay rights
How would you feel, if where you lay your head at night
Your whole family makes you feel all alone,
That you live in a house with a roof and four walls, but no home
People need to realize, hatred is not set in stone
Walking through the school hall, getting dirty looks
From self reichous people, they're really just scared and shook
But I can't imagine how much courage it must have took
Too say that you are gay, and, your proud to be
Gays have made a movement, they beat the odds, you see
If you're gay, stand up, I want to hear you roar
Take their insults with a grain of salt and nothing more
Cause the haters never know the struggle you've been through
So strideboldly through lifes doors and do you!
If we lived in a non-judgmental world,
where social norm were a blank slate
free of preconceptions and expectations,
a world in which it was traditional to be liberal,
what would you do?
Would you work this hard or drive fast cars?
Would you read 50 Shades of Grey in the train?
Would you still cry in the rain?
Would you be outgoing or spend more time alone?
Would you laugh at funerals and never mourn?
Would you wear your pyjamas for Sunday mass?
Would you identify yourself with the working class?
Would you use two forks or wear socks with flip flops?
Would you avoid dating jocks?
Would you take up smoking or marry young?
Would you tattoo your face and pierce your tongue?
Would you work as a stripper whilst being a nun?
Would you form a jihad against wars and guns?
Would you become straight, forget how to pray
or wish your first born son were gay?
Would you ever fake an orgasm
or admit you like it rough?
Would you follow the stars and lucky charms
leaving all life's decisions to luck?
Would you believe in evolution and gravity,
or argue we're heavy people with sticky feet?
Would you avoid salad or order tofu?
Would you try to go up a dress size or two?
Would you give to charity or take up a sport?
Would you sell your house and by a boat?
Would you order expensive wines or
write poems that did not rhyme?
What would you do?
Perhaps you simply wouldn't have a clue,
for we appear to have forgotten how to be true.
So when ever a Miley comes like a wrecking ball
we unite to share our disbelief and loathe.
As we did to Snowden and Jesus Christ,
we mock and torture and crucify.
The UN, CIA and the Vatican unite,
to teach us how to lead our lives.
For when someone somewhere breaks a norm
that someone somewhere has formed
it has become a universal priority
for the former to be conformed.
Perhaps in this non-judgmental world,
we might decide to start judging each other...
of what I need to do
To make the world a better place.
In ’68 Hutch and me,
Sitting at the bar drinking
Our third cold beer.
In a semi Fern Bar
In Laguna or Newport Beach
Which now, I’m not sure.
It was around eight or so,
A week day night,
The place more empty than not.
She came in alone, made
Entry like the dramatic host of
A TV show. As if she were the
Center piece on the worlds
Thanksgiving Dinner Table.
Over dressed to the nines,
Lots of color, heavy make up
She didn’t really need.
Her perfume scent hovered
Around her like a cloud of insects
On a hot summer night in a wet meadow.
Kind of made my eyes water up.
She perched daintily like a dancer,
Upon a bar stool,
Three empty stools down,
Nodded the bartender her regular order.
A martini, a double it was,
With but a dab of vermouth.
One green olive on a stick.
The glass was pre-chilled as if
It had been waiting only for her.
She pounded the first down,
Another stem glass appeared,
That one also quickly consumed.
Two bright red lipstick stains all that
Remained in or on the stemmed rim.
Her main task accomplished,
She audibly exhaled,
As if tired or relieved.
I could not tell which.
Turned around on her stool to face
Hutch sitting closest to her.
“You boys Marines.” She declared,
More than inquired.
Hutch just nodded, he never did say much.
A Sniper just back from Nam, a scary guy
Of few words.
She opened her fur trimmed cloth coat,
exposing two very nice stocking clad legs,
And just a quick flash of red underpants.
Rotating towards us so we got a better view.
She announced her name,
like we should know it.
Our blank stares informed her we didn’t.
Her face was to me, somewhat familiar.
From movies in the 40s or 50s.
We were early 20 guys, she much older,
Trying hard to look younger, not succeeding.
Soon she was sitting right next to Hutch,
Two more Martini stems had come and gone,
Her lipstick finger prints upon them.
And still Hutch had not spoken more than
Three or four words.
She bought us a pitcher of brew,
Hutch grunted a short bit of gratitude.
We did not have to say much, she was in charge.
It was all about her, she rambled on and on
Speaking volumes saying not much at all.
Beating back her crushing obscurity,
With flowery reminiscence recall,
Of glory days then long gone away.
Important for the moment, if only to her.
It was all; “me and I, I did this, I was that,
I slept with him,
And him and him”.
How about so and so? I asked,
“No Darling not him, he was gay!
It was not long and she was touching Hutch.
On the hand, the shoulder, she was working him
With languid hungry looks from her big blue eyes,
And the message could not have been plainer,
Had she held up a hand lettered sign.
I don’t believe she was a “Working Girl”,
Just someone very lonely seeking to find
Herself, and some company for the night,
All to prove that she was still alive.
Looking at her, I could only think,
How sad and pathetic she looked,
How desperate her plight.
To humble herself so,
In that dingy bar, among strangers,
She did not know, Acting yet, still
On the only stage she could find,
Staring in her own bad ‘B’ movie drama.
In that dingy smelly bar.
Hutch and her left after a hour or so,
He never told me much about it.
He was unofficially AWOL for three days.
I covered for him, kept his name off the
Missing Morning Formation Reports
and the Duty List.
No one cared to check. Our unit made up
Of mostly guys back from the war,
A pretty loosie goosy outfit.
Once in a while I see an old movie,
most are Black and white, Film noir stuff,
And there she is, a much Younger her,
Looking pretty damn good,
Not real big roles they were,
Playing some damsel in distress,
A mobster’s gun moll,
Or unhappy Play Girl.
I guess it was type casting that done her in.
Or maybe she got a little too long in the tooth..
A sad ending to a short B movie career.
Life ain’t easy, even for a so called “movie star”.
Fame is not all it’s cracked up to be.
one or twice, looking for Hutch. He told us to tell her that he had been
Shipped Out, when he actually hadn't. She no doubt found someone
else to tell her story to.
I saw that woman the other day on TV, an old film on Turner Classic Movies
doing her thing. I sort of wonder what ever happened to her, but refuse to
Google it to find out. Some information you don't need or what to know.
It did inspire this little Poem Noir write however.
Got a letter from Hutch in '70, we were both out of the Corps. He was
headed to the Arabian Desert as a hired gun, to guard some pipe line
operation. Have no idea what became of him after that. Hutch was
a real hard case, I hope he made out all right.
He caught me by surprise
I never expected to blush
when an abrasive, goth dude
said my ass was cute
His clothes are all black,
as black as his hair,
and his heels are as high
as the moon in the sky
He is a criminal
and I am terrified
but more so of how hot
he looks when he talks
He has a beautiful face
so perfect in all proportions
and I am sure that I may
be turning very gay
He looks hot as a woman too
and my cheeks flush when he
dances with that sass
I have a boner thanks to his ass
He is so funny
not in the usual way
but it's funny how things got
when I feel in love with the guy from the donut shop.
Inspired by Vee's fanfic titled 1994 where Levi is this goth dude who is a cross dresser and Eren and him fall in love and it's so fucking unexpected and real you just have too many feelings until you stop breathing.
It's extremely exciting and very sexy. And funny too.
"The problem is..."
"that it is'nt us who see people differently from you,
but you see things different from us. We are not the problem you are.
You see the basest humans when we paint majestic creatures,
we tell stories of superheroes with no faults,
we expect our boyfriends to mirror night skies in their comfort,
and speak like Kerouac. Kiss our scars like white girl tumblr pictures."
"People like you," he says;
"...Dont ever kill yourselves. You're used to the disappointment. Your used to kissing your boyfriends sweaty upper lips and smelling...just that. You clean up the puke on bathroom floors without complaining because you know what people look like from the inside. That's why your art will never be good. Thats why today in class when I asked you to paint a human body cut open, you drew a colorless man with his organs splaying out of him, and goddamn" he laughs..
"I have to fold petals into my boyfriends armpits just to stand the sight of him
our fucking is'nt fucking,
its lovemaking. Supposedly.
When I tell this story later,
I'll leave out the spit and saliva and how the human body
aint that pretty, especially gay sex. Even 6 ft 3 chiseled muscle of it, ill write metaphors about his eyes and similes to his fists,
you will tell us about the humaness of his breath and how
it annoyingly kept you up at night,
you will speak of storms but not of the ones in his eyes.
The ones in your belly
when he farts during sex and you will
describe every putrid detail, like the fact that waking up in the morning aint so pretty,
morning breath is something we dreamers leave out in movies. And, it must be exhausting
living here seeing things how they really are, but atleast when you expect disappointment, theres room for surprise.
People like me expect the good and are disappointed when its pissed on."
We’ll smash your patriarchy
smash your mysogyny
smash your hierarchy of blame
We’ll smash your racism
smash your prejudice
smash your system of pain
We’ll smash homophobia
smash gay bashing
and love our fellow man
We’ll live for each other
love one another
sharing peace, hand in hand
impeach obama x 6
Your shit sounds like some hippie from the sixties shit. Boring old gay old liberal old old old old old old old old old old old old old old old old old old old old old old old fag.
My dear, my darling
I must confess to you a
my dear, my darling
will you do your best to
I know you have a
and live so
but baby I could
FALL FOR YOU,
I already know you're
My dear, my darling
how long distance relationships
but my dear I now think they
My dear, my darling
I'm addicted to your
your comments, posts, and
you're even exactly my
My dear, my darling
I don't wish to break up
SHE AND YOU,
but my dear, my darling
I think I am falling