"hetero" poems
Quincy Valero
Everybody’s best friend
Jet black hair
Shiny brown eyes
A boyish smirk
Standing six foot something
Coming out of catholic school agnostic
Attending state college
Every word that came out of his mouth was a riot
A funny story of a bad situation he was in that he can laugh at now
An awkward moment with a girl he tried to get in bed
God awful train rides with a clueless conductor
Quincy Valero
A wanna-be Casanova
The irish-italian self-proclaimed “Don Juan of Dumont”
Roaring down the suburb streets in his bright yellow mustang
From Bergen county to Trenton
Edgewater to Ewing
Bumping R&B; from the 90's
A main girl
A side chick
And a few back pocket broads
Leading them on
To where?
I’m not even sure he knows
Quincy Valero
My best friend since I’ve been here in Purgatory
My lifelong cellmate
My hetero life mate
My brother of second thought
Our token white boy
He’s had his ups
Wild ragers until day break
A four way with me and two girls in my four door sedan
He’s had is downs
Falsely charged with domestic abuse
Community service, endless court room hearings, suspensions and a whole bunch of nonsense
Quincy Valero
The quintessential example of the modern day male
Stays up all night
Sleeps all day
Opportunistic
Egotistical
Miserly
*****
And hungry
Always aching to put in his two cents
And leaving everyone in a howl of laughter
An Adderall popping
Seasoned drinker
A professional *** smoker, coached by yours truly
Fast talking baritone voice
With a half serious tone
Yes, Quincy Valero
The tight plain white t-shirt wearing
Chino sporting
Nostalgic, slightly racist, sexist, anti-semitic
Bust usually honest, friendly and apologetic
Good hearted dude we all love to hate
And hate to love
Bed-headed
Pajama bottom ***
Talking about his Svedka regrets
And we laugh and laugh and the stupidest things
Then remember events that seem so long ago
And then make plans for tomorrow
Yeah, one of my best friends
My oldest friend
That’s Mr. Quincy Valero
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
I sat in the shadows
as the sun went down,
eavesdropped
on my passing neighbors.
The lady couple went by first,
holding hands
& kissing,
whispering about the rising moon.
Then came the hetero-couple.
He walked in front,
leaving her behind
as if leading her
on a primrose path.
He was laughing,
spewing words
about
******* lezbos.
She was still in tow
when she spotted me
& flipped me off.
I thought, what a lovely couple.
Not.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
Never
Orchestrate a hook up with a
Ripped and curious hetero
Who dances like Prince.
Ever the idiot, I
Grabbed hold of his hand and
Instigated a kiss, whispering
“All is well with me, I’m a good bet…”
Not knowing just how much of a
Weird night it was going to be.
Ominously, he told me to leave straight afterwards. With
One eye on his sleeping form, I
Didn’t set fire to his flat, but I snapped every one of his cigarettes.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 6:49 PM UTC
The US will drive like the rest of the world,
And declare peace on the Middle East for all times ahead;
Good films and books will be successful;
And punk’s not dead.
Justin Bieber will bottom all the charts; Pink Floyd'll be back together;
Bond will like his martinis stirred, not shaken;
Race, gender, class and orientation will be nonsense words;
And there’ll be no sequels to Taken.
Teenagers will fawn reading Tolstoy and not Meyer;
Old, black men will order the "extra whip, non-fat, caramel latte, venti;"
Art galleries will be closed to people over 21;
And poets will feature in the Top 20.
There will be equal jobs and opportunities for everyone;
Humans will give up on colonising mars and the moon;
We will bring down the imperialistic, capitalist, racist, misogynistic hetero-patriarchy;
And you will love me, tonight at noon.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 8:36 AM UTC
hetero aliens
is there god in asparagus
is there god in a stump
we build bridges and
world
wide webs, spider webs?
dolphins can love too.
Mar 28, 2011
Mar 28, 2011 at 6:40 PM UTC
The troubadour planted his last name between
a she-vegan's legs in San Marcos;
rambled north to that country of love, Oklahoma City,
where he took hits of windowsill acid every three hours
for a week straight.
To escape, to begin.
He spent his nights in the St. Cloud Hotel, trying to
sleep on a carpeted floor. He saw a color between
lavender and orange, nameless and impossible to
recreate. He knew all, including he'd forget all.
He shared a room with two high fashion,
burgundy-lipped lesbians, Viv and Jean, and
one night, the last night the troubadour, our troubadour,
was allowed to stay, Jean went out for some fresh air,
code for a cigarette.
"She never smokes just one," Viv said, little Oprahs reflected in her eyes from the plasma screen. She lay on her stomach on the bed,
atop a jungle green comforter. For your discretion and for the discretion of those before you.
Viv brought him between her legs.
"Gentle. Gentle," she said.
The troubadour thought of those Pepsi Challenge commercials as he tongued her **** A lesbian has an edge when it comes to oral pleasure. Across the nation more people prefer Pepsi. She's got the same parts, sure, but as the troubadour wordlessly recited the alphabet with his tongue to her, he felt confident Jean hadn't put in this kind of effort, not lately anyways. And so what if he's Coke? The troubadour preferred Coke. Viv snagged a handful of his hair, "Don't stop," she said. "Don't stop."
And it all ended, as drug-addled, hetero-on-homo escapades always do: abruptly and with an "I think you should leave before she comes back," a "But sweetheart, this, us, I think this means something," an "I like girls," a "But," an "I just needed an edge," and later that night as he marveled at the brilliance of the common streetlight, tripping his *** off on his last hit of LSD, he empathized.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
Call me queer, call me **********
But is my ****** life really that important to you?
I don't call you cunt-cuffin, ***** eater, nor hetero freak
So why must I be insulted for my *** life while you remain unscathed?
Call me ****** all you want,
But let's be honest, my life isn't easy
But I'm still here
My heart still beats
I'm still strong
Call me fairy to your little heart's content
But answer me this, could your heart bare the abuse of every kind for almost a decade?
Could your "holy" self withstand standing alone in the dark without so much as a friend?
I'm a "sinner" and I've withstood all those horrors and still came out strong
Call me a disgrace, an abomination, a freak
But answer this you pretentious *******
Who's the one cursing people, condemning, hating, discriminating them for being nothing more than who they are?
That's right, you, not me
So think again, who's your god going to punish?
People who have done nothing wrong but be themselves?
Or the ignorant fools who think they are God and condemn others?
Call me ****** call me queer
I know who I am, and it's someone strong
Call me ********** call me fairy
I'm the one who will survive
Call me all you want,
It won't change who I am
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
Queer, genderqueer, non-binary, non-hetero, pan, omni, gay, pagan, quaker.
whatever.
Labels may make people more easily digestable, but I don't want to be devoured by your limited paradigm.
I don't want your gut to strip me of my intricacies and **** them out only to be flushed away.
If you are trying to engulf me and break me down you will surely *****
I will make sure of it.
My name is Gian, and
My name is Gigi,
and I hope that even that
is hard for you to keep down.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
*what a love you speak of in sonnet
and in the battle of the Somme!
no wonder Shakespeare is disputed!
only among actor and not poet the two should care.*
free floating lizard akin to the pickle
serpent worth of spine,
she's there, attired in the sun, a biblical
woman hardly a name worth remembering,
why? because she's all *****
and you're all... well... ending up laughing
long after the F.A. cup result is in
and she's lost her daydream...
ooh... 2 nil... i too was into the Faroe Islands
rather than into Craggy Island of: *'drink! drink!
dingy Titanic twin tuck 'n' sunk lucky bet!*
no, really, i was reading an article and started
to laugh... some ***** with a Stephen Hawking
jpeg., i goo my hashish high with porridge...
she said Ibiza was fine with hens but not stags...
she mentions shaggy **** with dispensation
& carrier pigeons of philanthropy or abuse that
fostering advice involves... well, cheap jokes
elsewhere, crucifix over here? what fun to suit
comedy!
NONMONOGAMOUS... ? hey! why not try
a zygote relationship! if trans or bi or hetero
or **** doesn't work? all men around seem
to say the same: i'm not ready for this arson of talk
with a woman tongue replacing both bullet and rifle,
tank, cannon and an arab ******* on holiday...
give me extinction... i'd listen to the lizard man
that hear of mammalian love, that's as much cold
blood with the lizards as i had to learn with keeping
things i worked for being jealous:
it seems it was easier to keep a thief that way than a dog.
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 9:06 PM UTC
He looked at me.
Who are you?
I stared back deep into his eyes searching for emotion.
Nobody knows do they?
He said I'm not a lesbian
I've never done IT with a guy so I don't know which way I bend.
I just want to slam him into a wall and punch him.
I want to knock him out cold.
I want to take out all my rage.
Instead I just continue to stare.
Then technically speaking your not a Hetero... You've never done it with a man...
His face turned red with rage... I am not like that. You are different being Herero is normal. I don't have to be with guys to find out I'm normal.
I smiled back... Well honey don't know what makes us different. Technically speaking again, it's homosapian not heterosapian. So... Anything to say now? That's what I thought...
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 11:30 AM UTC
I’m not a higher caste-class-Hindu-male,
I cannot be a mute spectator
with a censored mouth and
I don’t want to be a part of a
********* history
that plucked eyes, chopped limbs
and slashed throats.
I want to tell my tomorrows that
I believed in tolerance, patience
And human rights.
Now that makes me a rebel,
An anti-national, a threat!
That’s reason one- I’m disqualified.
Tell me the meaning of life, justice
and freedom my brother
We were the promises of Independence,
The revolution that taught the world-
Ahimsa.
I don’t like vegetables, orange-vegetables
my land exported
and we got back bananas from
the celebrated republics.
The meatless days left me hungry
I decided to fast, I got jailed
And I know someday these man-eaters
Would hang me.
I don’t speak Hindi, I have no money
I dared to educate and I’m a girl
Now that makes me disqualified.
I need a moral certificate, approval
and a stamp
Just because I have men friends,
I wore lipstick and jeans and I danced.
I’ve to pay a fine, apologize
and spill tears
Because I proclaimed myself a feminist,
A thinker, a dreamer.
Dear society, let me add some more,
I bunked all my moral education classes,
I’m an atheist and a post-modern
Daughter.
I’ve friends- **** hetero and bisexuals
And I eat beef, lamb and pork.
I’ve a tan skin, a flat nose, tiny *******
and a beer belly
I laugh loud, cry and yell at times
And I know there are people out there
Who wants to throw stones, cut my-
body parts and exhibit my remains in a museum,
They need to execute this handicapped
Because she asked too many questions.
Don’t offer me your chocolate-justice
to be denied the next appropriate minute
‘Right’ can never be a synonym to ‘legal’.
So that makes a wrong-carriage
or abortion.
I know I’m disqualified
Now it’s time for the execution,
Hang this heretic!
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
From his balcony above a man watches down on a little town in Missouri,
he pinpoints a bleak silver container as it slingshots into the darkening shadows above.
It yells to him,
"help, get me out of this awful place."
A trial of slate grey smoke follows the container as if it were it's overly attached mother and within a second pulls it back down into the atmosphere.
After descending the container skids across a schoolyard, rolls off the sidewalk and crakes into minuscule pieces.
From the cracks tear gas spills out in all directions covering the once quiet little down in terror, relinquishing it of any tranquility that remained.
The man on the balcony sits and observes the events that have unfolded.
From his perch he can not tell black from white.
He can not tell man from women.
Turban from top hat,
child from elder.
he can not see if interlocked hands declaring their love and denouncing death that blares from police megaphones, are hetero
or ****
He can not see who's pride is enflamed by blue uniforms
or who's mouth's are covered by dew rags to prevent themselves from speaking a death sentence.
The gas covers it all.
He can only hear footsteps running away,
guns shots following the footsteps,
and unfinished prayers as bodies stain the side walk.
In this moment,
the chess game of life becomes not black versus white
but human versus human.
And the man wonders, from his balcony above,
why it must take weapons that destroy equality,
to make us see each other as equal.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 9:02 PM UTC
We are your neighbors, we are your friends.
We hide in the cracks in your hetero-normative society.
We do not need your representation,
we do not crave your voice.
Thank you, we have our own.
Ours is a voice you simply won't listen to,
but we can fight our own battles.
We live in the underground subculture you pushed us into,
and now we're ready to resurface.
We're coming up fast and we're coming up strong,
and no, we won't be quiet about it.
We won't conform to fit into the hetero-normative
graves you've already dug for us.
Don't ask who the "man" is in the relationship.
We're complex and complicated, and no, we won't give that up
just so you can have a "gay best friend."
Your stereotypes can't hurt us anymore.
At the end of our "limp wrists" are clenched fists,
and baby, we're aiming to make your nose bleed.
Don't try to stand for us, stand with us.
Raise your voices with ours, do not
rise above us to save us.
We don't need your salvation and
we don't need your approval.
If you're trying to speak for us,
you can keep your "same love" to yourself.
You can call us the new wave beat generation,
due to the fact that we're sick of being beaten down by your ********
We'll beat the institutionalized hatred you've been beating us with.
Warning: you may experience some slight discomfort.
After a while, they tell you that it's expected.
At least, that's what they tell us.
They tell us that it's easier to hide who you are and
who you love than to express that love.
And when we do express that love
they tell us we should've just kept
it in the closet where it came from.
Either that or we're supposed to allow you to
make our love so small that it could fit in your palm of your hand.
Go on, say, *** a gay couple, they're like, SOOO cute!" We dare you.
We've got Kerouac on the backs of our hands
and generations of pain building from the backs of our hearts.
Don't push us to the back of your mind,
because we'll build until you burst.
Just like we're bursting with rage;
an age old pain caused by your ignorance.
But we're ready to end it, end the violence we inflict on ourselves
because our sexuality makes you uncomfortable.
And we can't have that, now can we.
You? Uncomfortable?
Please, allow us to sacrifice our human dignity,
so you don't have to be uncomfortable.
Because, let us tell you, it is so comfortable to not have equal opportunities as you!
Yes, we still love you.
We are your friends, we are your neighbors.
We still call our mothers to complain about our jobs.
But this **** has got to stop.
And now we leave the choice to you:
either help us or get the hell out of our way,
because we're burning this system to the ground,
whether you like it or not.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
We can’t choose what we like. It isn’t easy when that thing you like is not accepted by everybody. Yeah I’m talking about love. We’re supposed not to care about what other people say but when it comes to family things change.. My mom can’t accept my homosexuality and it kinda ***** Every time I go through a break up with a girl, I can’t say anything to her. I have to grieve alone. I need her. But well, this is not the end of everything. She’ll eventually understand it and I’ll be able to be myself with her. If you’re going through something like this, I get you and I know how painful it is. I’m here if you ever wanna talk about it. We’re all humans, and humans fall in love with whoever they want to, regardless it’s a woman or a man. The thing is, we all deserve to love and be loved. We need to push away every hateful words and vibes and move on. And well, nobody is 100% hetero anyways haha. Hope this will give you at least a little hope that everything will turn out fine.
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 6:15 PM UTC
I can't think straight because I'm not.
I love one girl who is so hot!
And in this poem I want to show
How hetero people are ruining it all...
To think straight means... To hate!
To think you'll burn in the hell if you were born gay;
But beating their child is completely okay.
To think that clothes really matters;
If you're a girl then must wear dresses.
To think that colors have gender;
But boys used to wear pink, remember?
To think when a woman has body hair then she's so ugly!
But when a man has the same then he's very lovely!
To think they're normal and others are not;
In fact only they are stupid a lot!
Arguments against same s3x marriages they try to introduce;
But forget that straight couples are full of abuse.
Our world would be so much better
If you shut up your mouth, "dear" hetero...
Sep 11, 2024
Sep 11, 2024 at 4:07 PM UTC
They told me to write about the family dynamic,
and even though they were careful to say
"The" family dynamic,
I was quite sure they wanted to say
"My" family dynamic.
The way I'm quite sure that when my mother asks if I'm gay,
and if that is the reason I'm sporting a gay pride belly ring,
that she is actually saying,
*"I swear to God if you're a **** that's the last straw."*
Catholic upbringings seem to only account for politely covering up
hidden agendas, not actually purging them in place of acceptance.
My family dynamic is the blank stare I gave my mother that day.
It is the uncertainty I feel on a daily basis. A constant debate on
whether or not I should send her fragile ideals about me spinning
off their axis, admit to being bisexual. In my mind I always look
her in the eyes and say something along the lines of,
*"Don't worry mother, I could never be gay. I enjoy a good hetero ******* too much."*
In reality I smile and shake my head. Leaving her to go on living in a world
where daughters don't have premarital *** or lose babies, or try to **** themselves.
In a world where her good catholic daughter could never be gay.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
You were almost worth dying for
And no one is worth dying for
But that's the soul I'm looking for
You were almost worth dying for
You're a hungry hungry hetero
Inhaling all the weeds for the sake of
For the sake of looking free
You're a smack-dab heavy-looking warrior
Carrying a gun for the sake of
For the sake of looking like
The TV gods on the radio
Which is poisoning the waves
On the brink of flooding us
Flooding us with messages like
Wake up
Wake up
The poison is sleep
There's a reason why no one
Remembers the spine-shaking dreams
You were almost worth dying for
And no one is worth dying for
But that's the soul I'm looking for
You were almost worth dying for
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 6:58 PM UTC
"Man, I can't stand the people who just panhandle and heckle the passersby. It's not their job to support your lifestyle and/or habits! I had one friend who was just harassing people; hey man, leave them the **** alone! I just wanted to punch him in the ******* face. Get a job, ya *** Trim some **** or some ****
"Heh, yeah.. people can be obtrusive about some things.. I still like to try to help if I can; I mean, we're all in this together."
"I don't want your ******* money! Well, I mean, I have a job; I could go over to that ATM and take my money out and spend it.. .but why the **** would I want to? I only say that 'cause some ************* **** me off. Support yourself, like the rest of the Natural World, you selfish *****
"Well, I'd feel better with my cash in hand than in some bank owned by some greedy, shifty, slick, loophole-fucking *************
"Wait a second, boy, do you paint your fingernails?"
"..Yes."
"Are you heterosexual?"
"... yes."
"Okay, just checkin'. I'm just curious. I don't care what you do with your **** as long as you're responsible and don't **** with well-meaning girls' hearts and **** We got too many diseased and pregnant ************* People deserve better than that stupid **** Some of 'em like being treated like objects, though. Them's the filthy'ns."
"Ookay.. thanks for the advice. I'm going to be on my way now. Have a great day."
"Alright. Don't be an ******* to anyone until they show that they deserve it! Be a ******* Person to other ******* People, you know what I mean, boy?"
"Yep, I sure do. It's been an experience; good morning."
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 10:30 AM UTC
It’s Monday afternoon, the first day after Fall Break. Several of my suitemates are here, relaxing a bit before we hit the dining hall and then scatter, like debris from a bomb. There are a zillion things to do on campus, on any given night. Lisa and I are going to a seminar, Anna and Sunny are going to a Uni play and Leong’s going to see a documentary.
Leong was hunched over a cup of dark tea, reading ‘J-14’ magazine. “Do any of you guys think Travis Kelce is hot?” She asked, not looking up. Leong subscribes to several ‘teen’ magazines, like ‘J-14’, ‘Girls' World’ and ‘Girl’s Life.’ She says that Yale is her chance to be the ‘American teenager’ she could never be at home (Macaw, China). We’d make fun of her if we didn’t all read them after she finished, and they were lying around.
“No,” said Lisa and I about the same time as Anna and Sunny said, “Yeah,” to varying degrees.
“Did you think he was hot before he started dating Taylor?” she asked, pushing the enquiry even further. “No,” said Lisa and I repeated in unison - we had this down now.
“He wasn’t on my radar,” Anna admitted. Sunny said, “Yeah, same here.”
“Why do YOU think he’s hot?” Leong asked Sunny (who’s fem-facing).
“I can appreciate a hot guy,” she said, sounding a little defensive, “as someone who could draw hetero interest.”
Then Lisa reported, from head down in her textbook, “Your mouth retains the DNA of everyone you ever kissed.” She looked up and asked me, how many guys have you kissed?
“You mean politely kissed or Deep-kissed,” I asked back, tilting my head, sticking out my tongue and slobbering it around, like a dog eating peanut butter.
“They mean French-kissed,” she replied, rescanning the last paragraphs as I calculated.
“So, the five guys I dated, but we used to play ‘spin the bottle’ at parties too.. so.. 25?” I said.
“You **** she laughed. “I have my truth,” I updogged, “How about you?”
“I’d forgotten ‘spin the bottle,’ Lisa admitted, recalculating.. “Yeah, 25 sounds about right.”
“Leong?” she asked Leong. “Two,” Leong answered instantly.
“Anna?” she asked Anna, so Lisa was going completely around the room with this survey.
“25 sounds right” Anna answered, “including spin,” (the bottle).
“Sunny?” Leong asked Sunny. “A HUNDRED,” I said, hijacking Sunny’s answer, and everyone chuckled. Every Friday night Sunny brings a different girl home to ‘spend the night.’ It’s rather impressive.
“A few,” Sunny answered, shrugging nonchalantly, “A girl doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“I’ve got a calculator,” Anna said, “if you change your mind,” holding her phone up like an offer.
Oct 23, 2023
Oct 23, 2023 at 5:09 PM UTC
***** clean
Those pieces unseen
Unsaid
Pretty head
On a misfit body born
Into a (purely)
Miscreant soul
Torn seams
And jagged edges
That spill
Fluid
Love drunk
All steam
And moist expression
From the lens
Onto slippery
Retro
Queerly hetero
Tiles
All the while
A message sent
Through the eye of a
Ready and wanting beholder
Bent and already
So eagerly
Tainted
Face painted
A boy with a joker smile
Drawn and smear
Dipped from
Lip to ear
From frown to crown
He has feelings
To feast on
Thoughts
Fit for a king.
Those passions
That sit within
Before them
Inside him
Unhinged
He is wet through and waiting.
Dried out and wanting.
Flaunting
Daunting.
As timid as he is bold
Underneath
The cold shower
Of expression refrained
Still bidding.
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 2:30 AM UTC
I see you.
And I hear them too.
"You need to choose."
"Well you must like one more than the other"
"This is just a phase."
"Oh, you're just confused."
I see you.
And I hear society.
Today, society feels threatened by anything that does not fit a label.
Especially if that label leads to more confusion than clarity.
Dear Little Bi-Girl, you are not the problem.
Gay - Men who like Men
Lesbian - Women who like women
Bi-Sexual - you like both?
Dear Little Bi-Girl, they are confused by you.
Bi-sexuality is what the "B" in LGBT stands for.
Proving that you are recognized as "different" and it's okay.
But yet you still feel the lack of respect associated with who you want to love.
Little Bi-Girl, you remind society that there is a grey area in this black and white world.
You are the blurred line.
You are the example of half and half.
You are the misunderstood.
And I still see you.
Not fully allowed to be a part of the straight world and not fully allowed to be a part of the gay world.
You feel awkward in both.
You don't fit in a box.
Borderline hetero, borderline ****
And I still see you.
You like the softness of a woman,
The ruggedness of a man,
And society is not content with your opinion of your ****** orientation:
"I just like people".
Society is loud and drowns you out.
"You need to choose."
"Well you must like one more than the other"
"This is just a phase."
"Oh, you're just confused."
But Little Bi-Girl,
I see you.
You can't choose.
You don't like one more than the other.
and It's not just a phase.
You're not confused.
Society is.
Dear Little Bi-Girl,
I hear you.
I am you.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
Bright and polite
kids. Deferential
squirrels. Leaders of
leaders. Each man
his own man
living with his mate.
The great and the small,
all, the state.
On the other hand,
you find yourself
no hawk
but stuck
in traffic. Lack of
spirit, spiritual identity,
not free or free
philosophically about
no freedom. Caught
no sign
of letting go.
One. Bo-Peep's
sure Woody
is her man, an answer
to the question why
be a toy? Buzz too
would do.
Two. The men at least
have missions
leading other toys
through risky situations
sprinkler weather
or just play,
cleaning schedule.
So it goes
not homosexual
not hetero.
Not defined
by circumstance
or genetic material.
Gone beyond
the creator
to an infinity
that contains
him and us and our
collective minds.
Question is
can it exist
without us?
Would it matter?
Yes, if
that **** squirrel
gets run over.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 10:49 AM UTC
25 years into life on this planet. A quarter of a ******* century. I've attended more friend's funerals than weddings, a sad typicality of the generation I arose in beautiful concert with.
This strange fact reminds me of the opening lines from Allen Ginsberg's Howl:
"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the ***** streets at dawn looking for an angry fix."
I too sought this same angry fix, but removed myself from the clutter once death stalked the corners of my own addled streets. I too was destroyed by this madness, but given the gift of a second chance upon which to reform... and the guilt that stretches its legs so cavalierly, so callously, across the resting stool of my mind reminds me of this every day I do not practice sobriety as a dogma (just as I simultaneously recognize I should never accept it--or anything else--as dogma).
It's been two strange years since Anton passed, and he still haunts me as the interpersonal ghost of the relationship we had together which, with his death, has become embodied as said ghost sans the need for either of our particular presence. Perhaps this felt phantom of our collective essence will continue to waft throughout our globular strangeness we call the Earth until all observation becomes impossible for lack of any remaining observers. I loved you once, and I will love you always, and thus will always love you until "always" becomes as relative as "once upon a time."
"Early 17th century: from Greek exēgēsis, from exēgeisthai ‘interpret’, from ex- ‘out of’ + hēgeisthai ‘to guide, lead’."
I read myself and "it's" or "him's" reality like others read scripture itself.
I am neither hetero nor homosexual. I am bisexual, and many (even within the tight 'gay' community) do not understand this when I give an attempt towards a definition of a monogamous relationship, despite it's polyamorous-ness in its long-term oprative-ness, ability, and identity.
A monogo(mish) identity. Something which proves it's loyalty and is only taken in as an operative contingent of oneself thereof. Couldn't be more favor in their flavor, so this is simply a translation of my multiplicity of romances in my monetary destitution (not that anyone has to pay me for anything lol).
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 12:41 AM UTC