We don’t belong here
Among people who see
Only red in the kaleidoscope.

People who will burn down the candy store
To keep a foreigner’s kid
From maybe getting a lollypop.

People whose good will
Ends at the top of
A concealed leather holster.

We don’t belong here
In a place where the scenery
Goes off limits 97 days a year.

A place where the wind
Is often angrier than me
And covers things with talcum powder dust.

A place where no humidity
Parches eyes and nose and mouth
And water gives you kidney stones.

A place where those with shrunken purses
Huddle down in freon igloos
Longing for the place they left.

We don’t belong here
The shadows of our spirits do not match
We sing our songs in foreign keys.

We hide the face of who we are
And wear the mask of fitting in
No, we really don’t belong here

But here we stay because
There is no other place to go.
          ljm

I learned the blues
too soon
and the pain
I gained
singing on dark nights
to the rain our plight
those who know loss
is just another cross
to bear for the dark guitar
strings piercing hearts
the cross spreading her legs
like a pair of pliers to make us beg
plucking nails from ****** fingers
picking scabs that seem to linger
through the calloused evil seasons
of high cotton and boll weevils.

used to sing along
sleepless, sad boy
flatsound’s sullen symphonies
“i’ll go to sleep at a decent time
when i find something
worth waking up for”

these days i like to close my eyes
just gone ten at night;
wake up with the sunlight
caressing my cheeks
just the way you used to

because even though
us became you and i
you’re still my something
worth waking up for

I am no straight man.  I am a man of many mountains.
I am a gay man in the uncharted galaxies,
riding the waves in the glowing moonlight.
I am Mars beyond the stars, spitting bars and bars
of brilliant beats, bridges of magnificent men,
bridges of iridescent handsomeness, swirling
chocolate captivating my soul over a drink of sweet
nectar in the night.  I inhale ******* rhymes and
exhale an array of invigorating passion, thrilling tunes,
men of bursting boulevards, men of rumbling drums,
funky metaphors, crunk diction dancing in the breeze.
I am infinity, incredible inventions brightening in Venus,
a universe of upbeat rhythms reverberating across the
landscape.

mosaics fade, jaded blue,
industry whistles a spineless chorus
and smells like arsenic,

fire snakes the Aztec two step
while howling winds rush ash + rain
around river bends,

paralleled landscapes drape sunset showers
and dry heat escapes the golden moon,
peyote chills a warpaint shade
from dusk till desert dawn.