"orlando" poems
A seemingly fine day ruined with one headline.
Then another. And another. And by the time my phone stops buzzing the news couldn't be any clearer.
We lost a battle today. A battle for basic humanity, a battle to our own autonomy.
"Women" lost. "Women" should be afraid. "Women". "Women". "Women".
Every headline I read talks about how scary the world is for women.
Yes, the world is scary for women...or anyone with a ******
I don't want to make this about me. Because it's not. It's about every transgender man that fights for healthcare on a daily basis. It's about every non-binary person assigned female at birth who can get pregnant.
and yes....it's about women.
It's about people (men and women) who think their ideals should determine what I do with my body.
It's about every pastor, minister, judge, and human being who feels they have a say in how my life is lived.
Poetry has always been and will always be political.
Poetry is art and art is expression of feeling.
Today....I'm ******
I'm overwhelmed with a feeling of dread.
The same feeling of dread I felt during the 2016 election.
The same feeling of dread I felt the night of the Pulse Orlando shootings.
The same feeling of dread I feel every time I think of wearing my trans pride shirt out in public.
I'm not afraid to say how absolutely terrified I am....I'm just afraid for whatever is coming next.
Sincerely,
- Your friendly ****** having transman.
Jun 24, 2022
Jun 24, 2022 at 10:26 PM UTC
The sun bakes down heavily on a plastic micro planet in Orlando, Florida
where crowded trams drop American bushels of tourists into an alien world.
Quickly fantasy comes alive
through a corporation of disguise.
The workers mask themselves in a drapery of familiar life
-like costumes to charm little children’s hearts.
They smile wildly, carving a clear dimple line on the but of their cheeks. Walt’s Disney World
must have driven every one of America’s circuses out of business.
The flying trapeze is too elegant,
people now want to be strapped in,
buckled up and whipped around
to forcibly experience the true velocity of entertainment.
Even the participant’s attire is geared for this third world oblivion. Neon ***** packs rest like bloated kangaroo pouches
on fat sweaty old lady’s round hips, their plump fingers
holding on to leashed harnesses reined to their child’s small chest.
This is vacation,
strangers of people in massive conglomerations
with confused expressions and burnt faces.
Even the food seems wickedly unnatural,
like an artificial order of burning plastic and sour dough surprise.
Waiting is the enthusiast’s pastime as parades
of anxious voyeurs are captivated by a trance
fixation of lights and whistles.
They line up like schools of lemming,
plunging on rides,
one by one.
This is the place
Where memories are made
And dreams come true
Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 12:25 PM UTC
I went to a magic world
Of happiness and fun
I played and gave it my very all
Under the hot Orlando sun
A kingdom of hopes and dreams
And only good decisions
And underneath the bricks and steel
A man’s passion and his vision
You hear it in the words of songs
And stories where dreams come true
Where optimism rules the day
And all the skies are blue
I had a great day in the land of ears
And wands and princess gowns
I saw happy faces all day long
And never saw a frown
So how do you fulfill your dreams?
I know I learned one way
You share it for the world to see
And invite it to come and play
Feb 14, 2010
Feb 14, 2010 at 9:19 AM UTC
Shootings, shootings everywhere
Forty-nine face down in the mud
But who will save our rainbow lives
When we can't give rainbow blood?
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 8:04 PM UTC
(Solitary Chamber. Heart breaking melodious music is flowing silently. Young Ren is looking pale, soliloquizing.)
Young Ren: Sweet Flance!
Can you hear me?
I do know you can never see me now;
But hear me --- my words at least!
Feel my heart that hangs on nothing;
Yet resting itself on my unrequited love.
Hear me! Do hear me!
Send thy spirit unto me awhile,
And hearken my silent words.
Dear Flance!
Thou must be now with thy partner
Breaking thy footprints with me once;
Yet ne'er am I angry with thee.
From him I should not take thee away;
Yet listen unto me awhile.
Dear Flance!
I loved thee not at the very first sight
Like Orlando and Rosalind ---
Orlando was a wrestler,
Rosalind was a fair lady.
Their love began at an arena in a contest ---
Rosalind in the guise of Ganymede,
Their love passed thro' rustic lands
Symbolizing the art of Nature,
Their love stirred the young hearts
With wonder and fancy.
Sweet Flance!
Romeo died of Juliet and Juliet of Romeo ---
Breaking endurance to chaos.
There was poison in their love.
Dear Flance!
Jealousy lingered in the fatal love
Betwixt Othello and Desdemona,
At night their love was born,
At night their love was dead
When blackened by the candle light.
Dear Flance!
Lysander loved Hermia
And sought fanciful beings
For their fanciful union.
Dear Flance!
Know you, Keats died of consumption?
His love for ***** Brown was limitless,
And so burst into tears.
Oh! No!
MY love for thee can never have comparisons.
Sweet Flance!
Blossomed my love for thee
When thou wert young,
When thou wert beautiful;
Yet it's not of Romeo's,
Of Othello's,
Of Lysander's,
Of Dante's,
Of Keats',
For they died of their love.
My love for thee be unrequited; yet ineffable.
You felt not my love; yet I cannot be Romeo.
Know you?
Romeo loved Juliet,
Juliet loved Romeo,
And so they died without love.
Loved I thy heart, not thee?
Love I thy heart, not thee?
And so,
We live in remembrance of each other.
Dear Flance!
Thou must be now living with thy partner
Rejoicing in his presence.
Can you think of me living myself.
Rejoicing in my thoughts of you?
Here am I in the air with wings waxed;
Yet I'll not fall down to fragments.
Know you?
I am to lead my life myself,
But with thoughts of you!
For
Loved I thee, still I love thee,
Ever I'll love thee.
(Young Ren sheds tears)
Sweet Flance!
My tears are not of my loneliness sans thee;
But born of bliss within me with thoughts of you.
(Curtain Falls)
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 11:38 AM UTC
The new Genre Tourist Punk
is sailing the nation.
Hawaiian shirts and white keds are lining up all around Orlando to see
up and thrifting bands like
Lobster trap,
Lighthouse tour and
Dogs welcome.
Founded in a Starbucks
by Toni and Dash,
two MECA grads one student loan away from selling out and getting involved in
the lighthouse painting business,
The Band: Lobster Trap
gave birth to a whole new genre.
TOURIST PUNK
Toni and Dash decided they needed to provide music that was expensive. niche.
Something unspeakably mundane.
With smash hits like
"This traffic is ********
And "My name still isn't Joe".
Lobster Trap is flying
up the American top 40
faster than you can say socks and sandals
Sales of "I HEART LOCATION" merch has skyrocketed with every launched tour.
Crowds of L.L. bean boots and visors are Moshing, breaking poloroid cameras over each others heads in a salmon rage.
old school punk fanatics were skeptical at middle aged middle class suits getting into their scene.
until it hit them that they could now throw punches
at every pedestrian who ever cut them off.
"Hi thirsty, I'm Dad." By Land of the Polite
Has been played more times in the last year then any taylor swift song.
Money once invested in college-bound middle class vacationlander spawn is being wisely spend on bands like "discount Polo",
and "Local Diner"
So listeners.
if you spend an obscene amount of money on travel fair, and over priced, cheaply made souvenirs;
Or Work in customer service thriving to see those leaf peepers choked out by their own ***** packs.
Do yourself a favor.
road trip into your local bullmoose
sporting your states name on your chest.
And Treat yourself to an exclusive new album
of TOURIST PUNK.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 4:16 AM UTC
So much sitting on my tongue.
So much impossible to believe.
Man targets gay club...
50 dead, 56 injured.
Blood donations, no gay blood.
Spouses can't even help one another.
Wanna know what I say?
**** the quote "freedom"
If this country were truly free gays could go to clubs without the fear of getting shot down.
People could donate blood and not have to be a certain sexuality.
Freedom doesn't excist in this country if you are gay.
Pray for freedom.
Pray for the victims
Never stop fighting for your rights.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 2:11 PM UTC
I am a true vagabond.
Flowing in and out of the moments presented with a fierce desire to absorb as much knowledge from every experience. I have taken a piece of every place with me and kept them all close at heart.
The night life of Vegas. The Heat from Tuscon. The Storms from Tempe. The Sunsets from San Antonio. The History from D.C. The Laziness of L.A. The snow from Denver. The Rose from Abileene. The pens from Dallas. The spirit of Austin. The smog from Houston.The frostbite from Grand Forks. The sand from San Diego. The trees from Alexandria. The Disney Magic from Orlando. The tornadoes from Pratville.
I have taken a piece of every state and city and absorbed its significance. The days fade into nights and I am somewhere new every time. I love the cities I have been too and the worlds that I have collided with.
I am a true Vagabond. Even if my home is here or there I am in spirit everywhere.
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 10:28 PM UTC
*What the hell is up with the assassination attempts towards LGBTQ+ community? what did they even do? I mean, why hate someone for being different, why try and **** someone for being gay, or, bi, or transgender? or whatever they associate themselves as? like it just baffles me how much hate and animosity this world has, if someone is different, let them be different, because we all have differences and that what makes us the same, we're human beings and should be treating each other as such, I have friends that are gay, and bi, and I'm a straight guy myself, but you don't see me treating them any different, I respect them and they respect me, at the end of the day, it's all about love, respect and character, when did we turn a blind eye towards those values and morals? it's just crazy the amount of hatred and violence this society will stoop to....*
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 6:12 PM UTC
we was in the bando,
trappin, we were trapped..
cook named Orlando,
moved across the track..
used to be my neighbor, now hes got the paper,
owns a couple barbershops, got myself a taper,
owns a deli too, couple cleaners down the main street,
not long ago we were sitting in the same seat..
back when,
we was in the bando,
trappin, we were trapped..
kitchen hot too handle,
Found ourselves a rat..
polices, driving by increases...
Orlando had a thesis,
Moved in with his nieces..
He says...
"Theyll never catch me in here,
I live without fear,
only time i cry is with this tattoo tear"
A couple days later, cops broke the door in,
couple windows too, just to let more in,
they found a couple rifles, most of them foreign...
Cuffed Orlando, his niece, and his babymomma Lauryn...
multiple charges of distribution.
couple cases of ******
money laundering, and weapons, his attorney would murmur...
They say my writing ***** this is no place for this crap..
i dont do poetry, i just write reality rap..
and truthfully, nowadays reality lacks.
So i dedicated this to his daughter Natalie Max.
25 to life..
no chance of parole, bottle....
of hennessy,
just *** he was my role model..
They say how can you defend him, when i yell free Orlando..
*** i still remember when..
we was in the bando...
-afj
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC
Incorporeal wooing
-- benighted brown study,
slow to bleed,
turning on its axis,
wintergreen leaf
in free fall,
when all alone
the butterfly escapes the killing jar,
to parlously play along
this dulcet bine,
strumming crura,
like Orlando to faire Rosalind
in the Valley of Hinnom,
"a hunger uncurbed by nature's calling,"
which prayerfully ascends,
asking for cotyledon to appear
by break of day/dream.
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 10:41 AM UTC
As I sit staring at the "fasten seatbelt" light overhead
I can feel the endless possibilities of places I could go, people I could meet.
Today you asked me "you feel miserable here a lot don't you?"
You've never been more right.
And as I sit here on this **** plane in your **** sweatshirt I wonder if you know.
I wonder if you know how scared I am
of all the opportunities the fasten seatbelt light brings me.
Of all the opportunities you bring me.
I swear the way you look at me
while I'm in the passenger seat of your beat up car
on the way to the dinner that you'll buy me
and I'll pretend not to care about
is the same way I look at Columbia and blank notebooks.
The possibilities and beautiful what-ifs are spelled out
in the whites, blacks, and multiples shades of brown in your eyes.
And I am thinking to myself how beautiful this fasten your seat belt light is
but I am also thinking of how beautiful you are
and how you've never been given the chances or opportunities you deserve.
So as I sit here stirring in my just barely big enough seat
I am feeling things that not even the damien rice in my ears can suppress.
I am seeing every beautiful night I spent wishing I never had to go home.
I'm seeing all the miles you put on just wanting to talk to me a little longer.
I'm seeing the way you nod your head back and forth
and tap on your steering wheel to the beat
of your latest favorite pop punk song.
And I am seeing the tremble in my knee that you don't notice
when you say that my laugh instantly makes you smile
because in all reality every waking moment I spent frowning at you
was because I was hoping that if I convinced myself
that we were no good then you would believe it too.
I realize all these things as I sit in seat 20E
on a delayed flight to Orlando
and all I want to do is parachute down to whatever tiny
secluded unknown cafe you're spending your evening jamming
to a local set of bands drinking something fruity you've never tried before.
And just like that drink I want to run down your throat
to the deepest parts of your gut
and permeate through your blood stream.
I want to run like oxygen infused flames through your system.
I'm still sitting in this cramped seat on damien song number five
staring at this fasten seatbelt light and all the possibilities
and I just have one thing to say: fasten your seatbelt with me.
Fasten your seatbelt and see all the possibilities that I see.
Fasten your seat belt and move three states closer to that dream
you've been dreaming since we were neighbors on that worn down block
where we learned to hate our parents.
Fasten your seatbelt and run away with me.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
travelin north on rumblin boxcar trains
soft iron rails confess syncopated pains
slow rhythmic rush of spinning paddlewheels
full immersion baptism in Big Muddy swales
feint clip clop thoughts of ol Bess fade fast
hum a hue of delta blues to hard times past
I lift a quiet prayer to my Lord’s willowy ear
to quell the ugly whispers of yonder city fears
Jacob Lawrence
Panel 23
Migration Series
Duke Ellington:
Daybreak Express
Orlando
9/24/17
jbm
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 12:30 PM UTC
Fifty innocent deaths
Are fifty deaths too many
They prove that the world still
Is full of hatred
I have a right to hate it
Proof: This blood spill
And now there is a lack of blood
Yet we are not allowed donate ?
O positive and O negative, oh
Mainly, I am positive that
This needs to change
I am so sorry, Orlando
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
It's yet another virginal autumn
sliding through the
core of my esophagus,
the most bitter medication,
and the healthiest
to some "He" I've never met.
Let us all take a gander
at the undersexed ice queen,
turning his moans
into a frostbitten cackle
heard far past his grave
crafted with the polarizing
limestone of unintentional cynicism.
He sits at the bumper
of your public transportation system,
perfectly positioned in the middle,
so he can play God,
he jokes!
But it's because he loves people watching.
People watching
is not
people knowing;
people watching
is not
people loving.
Judgmental
is a barrier
same as those
elementary PSAs
about saying no to
strangers, also known as
creepy men with toupees
in decades-old station wagons;
these filthy humans,
all know that man,
all are his children,
all his faithful followers,
his filthy, faithful followers,
no sensual thoughts
will creep into my untouched oats
this grimy morning!
I will never
have dreams
in warm Equator-creeping nights
of making friction with their flesh,
even the boy,
the beautiful boy
standing savagely
on this public bus,
making the waves
pumping through this contraption
that makes up my frame
no longer stagnant,
rabid with the saliva
begging to drop
to commemorate
my loss for words
and my panting
need
for action.
His body is eternally dripping
with the juice of a hard man's labor
luminous vibrance through the skin,
the power of the Latin sun
in the drops of salt running
all the way
down his body
and I feel myself
recording his existence,
no name needed,
just his face
and body
in this rhythmic Orlando morning.
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:52 AM UTC
A live oak, grey suit not moving,
“He’s dead,”
The strings inside him broke.
She loved mysteries so
That she became one.
-
Tonight, darling, to right
Wrongs and wrong rights
with zero dollars and zero cents
and bat mitzvah money.
-
Orlando was pretty well lit,
A LEGO set sunk, a paper town
That’s uglier close up – dementia,
Paper-thin, paper-frail fox-trot
All the way around to slow dance
And finally, “I. Will. Miss. Hanging. Out. With. You.”
-
Highlighting “Song of Myself” opens the door of your mind,
Not poetry, not metaphor, clues the size of my thumbnail
Couldn’t help but smile half straight edges and half ripped
Paper towns, you will come back.
-
If only I walked like I knew how to kiss
Guthrie sang to Whitman as Walt read of doors
And maps of mini-malls leading
To graffiti messages and skipping graduation to drive,
“Though life can **** it always beats the alternative.”
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 6:32 PM UTC
magic kingdom
magic castle
tomorrow land was yesterday
fantasyland full of
peter pan and cinderella
NASA rockets
towering giants
risky space
I licked space ice
cream from a
dip n' dots
anti-gravity cup
sailed the stars
of a projection
screen
the beach was quite
beachy
peachy
bright sand
hot sun
freezing pacific
specific ocean
seagulls laughing
diving swooping
snatching
shells underfoot
washed up
****** back
cloudy
salty
H2O
crusty wind
blowing wind
ocean wind
ron jon's
surf's up
beach babes
beach boys
orlando
florida
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC
Jesus didn't go to Disneyland
didn't hold the hand of
Mickey Mouse,
he was
too busy cleaning rooms in the mansion
when he should have been cleaning house.
I never read in the good book
that we shouldn't give a ****
we're all children under the Sun
except them ********
who are crazier than ****
and **** indiscriminately
with a gun
Infinity is here today,
straight or gay
no way
did Jesus go to
Disneyland.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 2:40 AM UTC
Tennessee, San Diego,
Atlanta, Central Park,
California, San Francisco,
Let's do this, ORLANDO!
Yeah, how many places?
How many lives?
And to think we grew up,
_What a waste of time._
Don't you think it's time to change?
From all our childish ways?
What kind of point you think you're making?
You say it's against what you believe in?
And before you take a step,
Before you open that mouth,
Isn't it kinda ironic?
What you've become now?
**** your way to heaven.
That's what you think will happen, right?
Look how much you've been driven,
By hate and pointless crimes.
Isn't it kinda ironic?
Isn't it just too funny?
How we're trying hard to freeze,
What we think is ice?
Just take your time to think,
Are we really wise?
'Sinning' is what they're doing?
Take a look in the mirror.
You say _love_ is a crime,
When you're committing m u r d e r.
Well, we will fight together,
Together, we were created,
We're _all_ children of God,
No one deserves to be hated.
They're the same as _you_,
They're the same as _us_,
Oh forget it! _LOVE_ is _LOVE_,
Who cares about gender?
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 2:32 AM UTC
That coffin nail smile
All the while it never broke.
**** after **** we took the plant apart,
As if the night was a chocolate cake,
And we knew it wouldn't last.
Cast of with a flick of the hand,
They were like that ash,
They never understood,
It was never any good.
But you were so good Betty.
That ***** blond mop,
The halter top,
And that coffin nail smile,
All the while, it never broke.
They say, you had it on your face still,
When they pulled you out of the wreck,
A few teeth short, bloodied,
But intact.
I beat myself up over it,
Nonstop.
Its a horror,
What four hours can do.
To have the world wrapped up in a piece of bambu,
Twenty-two records, without a single skippable song,
A plant in full bloom,
A room with a you...
I saw the ******* two months later,
Drinking himself to death,
In the Orlando international airport lounge.
******* on an olive, and sobbing on your picture.
I wanted so much to strangle him
Until his eyes popped out of his head,
Until he was dead...like he made you.
But I figured...he was doing a good enough job on his own,
So I left him alone.
I'll never forgive him though...
He's been dead twenty years now,
But I'll never forgive him...
For hitting that guardrail at ninety...
And for walking away, with a broken collar bone,
While you...
Oh Betty,
You were so ******
Why didn't you stay that night,
Stay with me...
You didn't...
Oh, Betty...
Why did you leave us like that,
Why did you leave me...
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 8:52 AM UTC
I saw the news of that night,
I saw the people cower in fright,
I felt their love fall to the ground,
I knew the fear would spread around,
Down in the place called Orlando
The outed, the loved, the brave,
The ones in closets, dark like a cave,
The lonely, the lovely,
The ones like dogs stomping muddily,
Down in dear old Orlando.
No one had expected what came next,
It was something like text,
You read from a book,
Now don't ever look,
Down in Orlando.
What was once a place,
A very special space,
Space for those different than him,
He thought they were a sin,
Now it's no more in Orlando.
All they wanted was love,
But their souls flew like a dove,
No more of their musical,
Wonderful, beautiful,
Lives in Orlando.
To all those,
Who rose,
To the next place,
I give you good grace.
I am sorry for all that's been done,
I know sometimes life hasn't been fun,
But you didn't deserve,
To be served,
The final, the last,
Place. I'm sad that you passed,
Into death.
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 12:20 AM UTC
Jingoism at its very best is still zealotry, and anyone with good sense can tell you none of that is good. Where has good gone? Narrowness is boasting ethnocentricity. The mind game of villainous blame furthers unkind possibility. Worse yet, demise of soul, to tout a right to defend, assaults a riffling on pith and marrow with no sane sense of psyche to lend. Basically then, we are told to "blend."
I cannot.
I am fanatical. My colors must be seen. This weathering of dark storm has unbiased relinquishment that must convene, upon a rainbow. With all heart and soul, given to Orlando.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 7:59 AM UTC
I miss the stars
The way they used
To shine over my house.
I could lay out there for hours
Making up constellations
wishing for better days.
But alas
my wishes came true
in a city without stars,
And I'm making up constellations
From the freckles on your skin.
The hours are now spent
lying with you
Under a dark sky.
Yes I still miss the stars
But there's beauty in
Orlando Lights
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
Im tired of all these prancing dancing ****
Id rather see them all in bodybags
While i puff zigzags cruisin slow in my jag
Looking for more this ******* ready for war
Look what they doing to kids
******* em up before they learn to walk n talk
But i bat out that ********
Yea i might get haters but i dont give a ****
**** you and your agendas
Now every ****** here me i knowya fear me
Cuz im revolutionary i aint scary
To speak my mind **** your pride
Ill slide this chrome upside ya dome
Id rather see yall like orlando in a funeral home
Flag my **** i dont care
Im sick of this madness i got kids
Who gotta deal with this **** on a daily basis
Got me seeing faces of death til my last breath
Imma keep exposing this **** ******* hypocrites
How ya gonna be a gay christian
When it goes against the Most Highs teaching im reaching
Deep into the pits of hell where my soul on earth dwells
They got every nation embracing
Ya **** but africa deny it
Thanks to Obama a hidden ******* ****
Michelle is really man yall know this
So stop acting new to this
***** and Gemorrah aint no ****** fairytale
Though i may be jail but ill still.make bail
All ya see is my enemies in pain as they h
Yell
I got the power of the panther
And the Most Highs army riding with me
Cuz i fear em
But never satan ya only fallin into his death traps
And they laughing at you
While yall fighting to **** each others *****
N chicks so they each others ***** ****
They gone hit ya with a snipers bullet
Know the art of war once the gore comes
Watch how many panic and run
Then theyll claim they have religion to back em.up
But aint nobody gonna hear ya
When ya throwin up
Mad blood i seen many peeps die for a lie
So if you problem with the way i spin
It off my tongue
**** you and you ****** loving muthaphukkas
I cant stand yall with a passion
Im blastin
Like a runaway gun yall wont hearme when i come
For death best moments are done in silent violence *****
Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 3:23 PM UTC
wildfires in Cali, nukes threaten LA
dreamers dead in DC and Irmas on her way....
****** Hairs in the White House, Houston's flooded still...
Afghan be bleedin...I feelin the big chill...
GOP be crazy...Dems dead as a rock...
Amerika be reeling...Doomsday clock tick tock...
Music Selection:
Alvin Lee,
I'd Love to Change the World
Orlando
9/5/17
jbm
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 1:35 PM UTC