i remember going to sizzler
with my mom and my 2 brothers
and some random guy and lady---

all at the table.


and she'd load up the tray with dinosaur nuggets
and cabbage
and parsely
and split pea soup

and swirly icecream

of which you could fill a bucket and

only get a light scolding from the waitress with her 4 freckles.


i'd eat that stuff,
and there'd be faint music and clinking

and dishes breaking
and children laughing and crying

and burps from old people

and farting
from overzealous husbands
who would proclaim flatulance as being a sign of
gratitude for one's meal in
China


if you've ever heard.



and the carpet would be drenched in animal ****

and the air
thick will fillaments
and greasy dust--

and my eyes would water,
and the memories
would be a haze,


but it was always rather pleasant.


and the best part was the red ballon with the 'S' logo.

and it'd pop usually upon arriving home after you sit on it or something like that---


Then many years later
i went back with a friend
and his dad who happened to be pretty drunk
and we were listening to Lennon's "Wheels Go By''


and the waiter
was younger and better looking and had less disdain--

and i just got chocolate icecream.


but there were no swirls.

the swirles were long gone.

dead even.

dead .


and then i flicked my ciggarette into an immaculate ashtray

and a few ladies
talked about the lunch specials.

and my stomach gurgled
and we went
to ihop instead.

dancing on the freeway
while flipping off the drivers and ******* into someone's yard
whilst eating a
lettuce
wrap.


they swerve around me
and honk
and weave in and out of lanes

and scream

and cry

and throw rotten fruit onto me.


fires erupt in the distance

and several
buildings collapse
into thin dust.


ruins are uncovered
showing the slow ascent of man.

discoveries are made,

then the shots are fired

and hit me in the gut
and temple.

it flings off of my chin
and onto the cement
clicking my toe.


bloods spills out
and i crap myself from the excitement.


the excrement collects into a neat pile.


then the helicopter
fro ma distance shouts at me,
telling me to

''GET ON THE GROUND

AND
TUCK IN YOUR GENITALS''

i comply
.


and the news crew
rolls up and interviews me,

and i spit on the womans face

and she ****
and rrubs her *****
behind a bush in the distance.


and i'm handcuffed
and throw into
a van,


and slowly
ripped apart
by
aligators

as they throw me into a laggoon

and spell
my name wrong
on the urn


and drop me into a boiling vat of lubricant for the elederly.


and then my eyes
close


and death
is slow release


and none of my relevatives
are sitting at the gate

,,


just a few

birds

that form a beautiful V
in the rising dawn sky

We are,
the divine self-incarnated and eternal
meant to expand the soul and live peacefully.

We are,
the gifted ones that have a birthright
to receive all Gods offerings.

We are,
blessed and a blessing
with angels at our beckon call to assist.

We are,
the sun vibrating with rainbow rays
to open our consciousness so we can feel free.

StarBG © 2017

I've been taking hormones for right around three years now, and I know it isn't long in contrast to the length of adventures others have had, but I'd like to describe what it's been like here on this side. I haven't made many other queer friends as I have this fearful feeling of dread that my inclusion into the community depends on the dedication I commit to being a walking means to the end society has deemed fit the only end in store for me. Folk like me, I think -- imagine at least -- get their breadth of emotion choked in the fall between spokes of the wheel. I retain, that within the other is another other, deeper still beneath the tired paradigms, mired lower in pain and shame til the next.

Frequent & repeated lines of questioning,
not limited to frequent and repeated running,

O,
your honor,
how wyd one do in the dog days should so futile an expense be paid.

Often,

though not often enough
(and
entirely too often,)

it seems
to be
repeated

to be
repeated the sayings of the elderly,

but I say,
among others,

RUN!

collapse into the whole of everything else.

Run not in the ablative sense,
but inwardly.

The Dog Days are days in the truest meaning,
Don't Hold Me To That!!!

for this will pass,
as will those and that.

That rustling will never cease
and should it,
I fear the worst.

From this cries a home

A HOME!

for want of all.

Take this, Take me, whole, unbroken, beyond dog days and frequent and repeated sayings & questions. Take me home.

A Breath of wind is wind itself,

should true and steady braided shelfs,

foraged fords from handsome lords,

prayed hopes & proper ropes,

could life and science meet the world beyond Biology?

"A home," it cried, "a home for me with trees and lakes and reverie."

I tried and cried for something else, elsewhere

I found a leaning shelf.

Should what was true and even hold nothing told or helpless here,

I cannot hide a place inside,

though I cannot say I really tried.

the unbroken in the air flowing
sprinkles universe, earth and trees
chrysoprase of the land

the unbroken in the water flowing
soften the stony,  tamed the beasts
rhodonite of the mountains

the unbroken inhabits the earth
soil fertiled, flowers bloomed its grace
cease insecurities

the unbroken in the air flowing
sync yellow n blue, yin n yang
engendered the earth

the unbroken in the water flowing
rage calms, exhausted nerves revitalized
prisoners unchained, free'n blockages

the unbroken flowing
universe stands
serum of the earth

the energy
flowing within and without
the unbroken

She did not know,
Or so she thought.
She did not know,
Or so they made her believe.
And believe she did,
They were many,
They had to know.
Temporary doubt
Avoidance of arrogance
Humbleness needed.
Did she have it?
Did they?
To know not to know,
To question.
Eternal dust
Ephemeral shapes
Suggestions.

Every morning is the same,
I inevitably wake up
With a smile, always mine.
It reminds me of who I am,
Where I’ve been.

The dimples my father loved so
No one sees, except me,
Voluntarily secluded
For them not to vanish
And for Them not to steal them,
Sheltered from unconscious thieves.

Crafted sea sand reflects the depth
Of my pupils, dilating as I approach
The image on myself
While my brown iris get lighter
And I fixate on the red capillaries
Emphasised by lenient time.

Every morning is the same,
Coffee and cigarettes for breakfast
News to keep in touch
With a world They call ‘real’
As I travel in the maze
Of my own.

If ever I step out of my abode
My mane is responsible for my protection,
Thick curls dropping before my eyes
For Them to think I do not see
While indeed I see it all.

Each vibration, humour, anger or pain
Penetrates me like knives
The apple on my head.
The Circus does not amuse me
And I rush to grab my wine
Bring it safe back home.

I live in a Universe immense,
The reason behind my smile.