The English vice, Some Etonian curse – Set down in grass And purple verse,
Lavatory bred With ransacked blood, Skin slapping and With a falling thud –
Takes boys at childhood, Wishes them away, With promises of popper fuelled buffets,
And poisons them with Vice and virus red, And sees them unmarried Giving head.
I don’t regret a single thing I am, I’ve tried it out And can’t abide the sham –
I’ll **** men And make them beg for more, I’ll scrabble for their love upon the floor,
I’ll love men And love will love me too, I’ll love for love’s own sake And when I’m through
I’ll die and I’ll be thankful that your hate Never made me beg that I was straight.
I don't generally write on the topic of being gay, although I write a lot about boyfriends etc. Being gay is not really an issue for me, but every now and then someone will make a comment that will ******* enrage me, hence this poem. Let's stick together, doesn't matter who we fall in love with, let's not be ashamed of anything. x