Pigeon: Favorites

Aug 2014 Pigeon

Andrew Durst

"Not giving a ****"
and "acceptance"
are two entirely
different things.

        One lets you
   walk away,
           and the other
        lets you sleep
   with yourself at night.

   Don't mistaken the two for
          being the same.

Sorry for the language.
I felt like it helped prove the point.

Aug 2014 Pigeon

Feelings

Aug 2014 Pigeon

R

Feelings

I have many feelings.
Probably too many feelings.
But that does not give you the right to
give me "friendly advice" about what I should
and should not write about.

If I want to write about the spiritual act of
making love that my girlfriend and I share together
Then I most certainly will.
If I wish to write to write about how I used to
cut my skin and enjoy the way my blood
flowed from my it,
Then I most certainly will.
If I need to write about how afraid I am
That even my own family will not accept me
Then I most certainly will.

This is my way of therapy.
If you do not want to know,
Then DO NOT read it!
Isn't that SO simple?
Do not complain about the things I write about
When you read way worse things.

This is towards ANYONE who feels the need to tell me I shouldn't write about my love life, my thoughts and past, and my feelings. If you have a problem with it, STOP READING.
Thank you for reading (or not reading) xoxo

#ugh

Aug 2014 Pigeon

Ferguson

Aug 2014 Pigeon

M

Ferguson

everyone is tragically in love with someone else,
dancing and pining, returning
to the addiction, a relapse
of what is it, *******? ******? kind words?
and I
I am busy suffocating in my own spit
I am gagging and revolting at these chains of green poison,
cloaking over my airway,
I cannot speak, this atmosphere is
the same way the sky looks just before it collapses,
strained smiles in a strained nation where
strangers do not speak or associate
police **** innocent men
and thousands more are called guilty for
using their first amendment rights,
it is the frustration at belief that since you are
black
or a woman
that you mean nothing, you are good for nothing,
your only goal is surely malice
and there is nothing you can say to change their minds
so they lay these liquid chains atop you and they fill your lungs
you cannot breathe deep enough to force them out, you can only feel yourself slowly sinking through the moist air and pumping your legs uselessly
the fire inside you only serves to boil the chains and settle the burning poison deeper into your wounds.

Aug 2014 Pigeon

I am NOT gay

Aug 2014 Pigeon

Wardell Lee Freeman

I am NOT gay

I tend to get stares... Looks... The occasional "are you gay?" With a quizzical look of disgust.
Well, to answer your question, no, I am not gay.
In a society built around judgment and stilted above common sense,
Being gay would mean that I'd have to find women utterly disgusting, flick my wrists, speak with funny and awkward inflections, right?
Do you think I speak with funny and awkward inflections?
Good! Because I'm so not gay.
Being gay would mean that I love to shop, well I hate it!
My fashion sense does not exceed that of a box of colorful crayola crayons melting away in the blistering Las Vegas sun because you see, I don't live in San Francisco, or New York,
or anywhere "gay" people live.
I am not gay.
Being gay would mean that I am immoral but I can assure you, moralistically speaking, that morals are what keep me routinely from listening to Lady Gaga, who I've heard, despite her catholic upbringing, is a devout devil worshiper and I sure as hell don't worship Satan!
Oh no, I am not gay.
My father once told me, in his manliest tone that if I ever became sweet
or my tank profusely filled with sugar
that he'd disown me and rid me of his home.
However last time I checked,
I don't have a tank
and one lick of my tanned brown skin would reveal that I am in fact quite salty!
Salty, as defined by Urban Dictionary, means to be ******.
Bitter. Angry.
Well father, there aint nothing sweet about my wrath.
I'm infuriated.
I'm angry not because I'm not able to fulfill the holistic criterion society has built in order to be gay,
No, I am more upset that there is actually a set of rules dictating whether or not someone is gay.
Now listen to me when I tell you,
I am not gay
I am not gay because I have yet to inject myself of substances with an unsterile needle for all purposes of getting high.
No, I have yet to discover my last ****** partner was diagnosed with *** and that I may very well have the virus.
No, I have yet to interiorly decorate my bedroom with the warm crimson fluid that is my blood because some punk at school thought it was cute to label me a queer.
I have yet to be gay because being gay in today's society means I am reckless. I am promiscuous. I am a *******.
Well, guess what society,
I am not gay.
I am, in fact, a man, who is not your personal show dog for your fashion approval that you can tote around in some cute Gucci bag.
I am a man, who can still appreciate the beautiful magnificence that is a curve when he sees one no matter the person's gender.
I am a man who, despite what you may be expecting,
is a man who, no matter how hard you try to box me in a confined image,
is a man who, will fight to freely be in love with who he wants to be in love with,
who is a man who is not gay
but a man who loves men.
I am not gay.
..

Totally gay.

#gay #lgbt #lgbtq

Aug 2014 Pigeon

Tinuviel

Aug 2014 Pigeon

J.R.R. Tolkien

Tinuviel

The leaves were long, the grass was green,

The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,

And in the glade a light was seen

Of stars in shadow shimmering.

Tinuviel was dancing there

To music of a pipe unseen,

And light of stars was in her hair,

And in her raiment glimmering.

There Beren came from mountains cold,

And lost he wandered under leaves,

And where the Elven-river rolled

He walked alone and sorrowing.

He peered between the hemlock-leaves

And saw in wonder flowers of gold

Upon her mantle and her sleeves,

And her hair like shadow following.

Enchantment healed his weary feet

That over hills were doomed to roam;

And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,

And grasped at moonbeams glistening.

Through woven woods in Elvenhome

She lightly fled on dancing feet,

And left him lonely still to roam

In the silent forest listening.

He heard there oft the flying sound

Of feet as light as linden-leaves,

Or music welling underground,

In hidden hollows quavering.

Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,

And one by one with sighing sound

Whispering fell the beechen leaves

In the wintry woodland wavering.

He sought her ever, wandering far

Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,

By light of moon and ray of star

In frosty heavens shivering.

Her mantle glinted in the moon,

As on a hill-top high and far

She danced, and at her feet was strewn

A mist of silver quivering.

When winter passed, she came again,

And her song released the sudden spring,

Like rising lark, and falling rain,

And melting water-bubbling.

He saw the elven-flowers spring

About her feet, and healed again

He longed by her to dance and sing

Upon the grass untroubling.

Again she fled, but swift he came,

Tinuviel! Tinuviel!

He called her by her elvish name;

And there she halted listening.

One moment stood she, and a spell,

His voice laid on her: Beren came,

And doom fell on Tinuviel

That in his arms lay glistening.

As Beren looked into her eyes

Within the shadows of her hair,

The trembling starlight of the skies

He saw there mirrored shimmering.

Tinuviel the elven-fair

Immortal maiden elven-wise,

About him cast her shadowy hair

And arms like silver glimmering.

Long was the way that fate them bore

O'er stony mountains cold and grey

Through halls of iron and darkling door

And woods of nightshade morrowless.

The Sundering Seas between them lay,

And yet at last they met once more,

And log ago they passed away

In the forest singing sorrowless.

Jun 2014 Pigeon

Five Times I Loved Her Openly

Jun 2014 Pigeon

L

Five Times I Loved Her Openly

At school
    This relationship is one to keep secret when you attend a catholic school. Two women (or men) aren't supposed to be together... but we're together. She's made me smile and cry and love like I never have before. People at school started to notice -- they started saying that I was a lesbian. When someone first told me that, I laughed. Laughed. Why were people spreading rumors like that? About me, a nobody? But then I realized that I can't always cover my heart with a sweater bearing the school crest. My heart is open, bleeding and spilling blood down my sleeve. It blends in with the crimson material. People are not blind.

2. Around our friends
     We didn't keep it a secret for long. I told my two best friends because I knew they'd accept me, no matter who I'm with. I was right. They welcomed our relationship with open arms. It was easier to love her then. We could hold hands and gaze at each other openly. With them, it feels like I'm home.

3. Around my family
     My family is tricky. My mom is accepting of gay men, lesbians, bisexuals, transgenders...
But I wonder if she's accept me.
     My dad is a homophobe. If you're gay, stay away! The stubborn man wouldn't even touch you with a stick... But what would he think if it were me?
     My brother is ok.
     My sister is... indecisive towards us, After all, I'm in love with her best friend. And I didn't even get to tell her myself.
     Hiding it amongst my family members has become rather difficult. Not being able to hold her hand is a stab to my heart. Not being able to flaunt her everything to them is maddening...
"Leigh, how do you not have a boyfriend?"
"Well um er..."
Do they notice the way I act around her?

4. Around her family
    The most difficult task of all. They're so unaccepting of who she really is, that she hides herself away. It pains me to see the hurt in her eyes when they poke fun at gay people. I've seen it happen. Anger wells up in my chest and fills a cavity long forgotten. I long to scream "Look. Your daughter/sister/aunt/cousin's heart currently belongs to me. Yeah, me. Another girl."
I wonder what they'd say to that.

5. In public
     Today, you never know what a person's views on homosexuals are. They could be completely disgusted or humbly accepting. You just don't know. So I (we) have to be especially careful. Someone could explode on us, saying that two women loving each other is wrong or sinful or damning. I'm afraid of that. She closes up when I don't hold her hand or reciprocate her advances in public... I'm just afraid. Sometimes I'll face my fears and I'll grab her hand. Other times, I'll sneak a kiss. Most of the time, I steal a glance and then cannot tear my eyes from her beauty. Do people see the love we have for each other? Do they understand? Do they accept? Do they believe that all love is beautiful? Probably not... But I'll love her anyway.

For R, who I love wholeheartedly.

**
Leigh

Jun 2014 Pigeon

To the girl who's captured my heart

Jun 2014 Pigeon

L

To the girl who's captured my heart

Look into the mirror with me.

You see that girl?

No, not me, luv.
Look at yourself, for once?

Yes, that girl.

I love that girl.

I love everything about her.

Her body.
Her mind.
Her soul -- a touch of youth, but old at heart.

The way she talks.
The way she walks.
The way she breathes -- deeply at first, but softly as she sleeps on.

The way she writes.
The way she draws.
The way she creates -- with passion, but with a calmness unlike her.

But most of all,
I love the way she loves me.

I love the way she holds my hand.
I love the way she kisses my lips.
I love the way she loves -- cautiously as if I'll break, but then unbridled when she sees that I won't.

She holds my heart in her outstretched hands...
And I won't try to take it back.

For R, with so much love that I sometimes believe my heart will burst.

--

Wow.
It's been a while since I've written anything so long and so repetitious.
Hope you enjoy.
**
Leigh

May 2014 Pigeon

another one about camp

May 2014 Pigeon

M

another one about camp

“You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place. Like you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you’ll never be this way ever again.”
Azar Nafisi

you know...
every year, I'm scared it's gonna be different
and I'm scared I won't make it back
but,
every year,
I return
and yes, it is different,
but it is glorious
and I have never been disappointed.
when all else falls, and the world rejects me,
I have a rock
because who I am
has only ever been who I am
whilst standing on it
and now,
I am about to mount the rock again
reclaim myself
and ascend even higher.
(but fading echoes in my head resound,
singing: this too shall pass)