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vince-chulthegPoems
When it all goes quiet Behind my eyes What I feel is the paradoxical dissonance of comfort and frustration coursing through my veins When it is quiet, Existential and emotional Weirdnesses hit like A five year-old Soft-armed vice grip Around my puppy dog Chest and knees Squeeze, burn, repeat Like some ****** up Manila slum beauty salon where This type of shampoo Burns my eyes for days, weeks Not just for that moment before Approaching the eye-rinse station Because you seek the kind of validation And appreciation of your masculinity That your wife, girlfriend, children, parents And Soccer bro's do not afford you And I know it is my fault --the gay community warns against falling for the charms of the man who-- Oh yes--will love you But not the way you love him. That is, of course Unless you can coax, **** And dump him like he has done To so many girls But I am still blessed with The ability to feel and share The warmth of my mother's Gray eyes, and arms, and Sun-dried blankets For what--if not this-- Am I really here for? I overflow with colors From that rainbow pressed into the Earth's clay So let the geyser gush I guess And in the meantime I will search for sacred and Grace-dipped patience.
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Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
To You, Straight Man
When it all goes quiet Behind my eyes What I feel is the paradoxical dissonance of comfort and frustration coursing through my veins When it is quiet, Existential and emotional Weirdnesses hit like A five year-old Soft-armed vice grip Around my puppy dog Chest and knees Squeeze, burn, repeat Like some ****** up Manila slum beauty salon where This type of shampoo Burns my eyes for days, weeks Not just for that moment before Approaching the eye-rinse station Because you seek the kind of validation And appreciation of your masculinity That your wife, girlfriend, children, parents And Soccer bro's do not afford you And I know it is my fault --the gay community warns against falling for the charms of the man who-- Oh yes--will love you But not the way you love him. That is, of course Unless you can coax, **** And dump him like he has done To so many girls But I am still blessed with The ability to feel and share The warmth of my mother's Gray eyes, and arms, and Sun-dried blankets For what--if not this-- Am I really here for? I overflow with colors From that rainbow pressed into the Earth's clay So let the geyser gush I guess And in the meantime I will search for sacred and Grace-dipped patience.
vince-chultheg
Written by
vince-chultheg
Micronesian
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
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