I wonder why everyone can't just
flat-out, God-blessed, love each other-
freely, purely, and explosively-
why are some people allowed to hold hands on the street
and others must keep it in the privacy of their homes
some bodies must be hidden and others can be exposed
some kisses must be kept secret from those who love you the most
some heartbeats must happen outside of your own house
some moments cannot exist in the presence of others
and some lovers can only love a certain type of other lovers.
Why is it that I must be fearful in a group of people
that they can see my brainwaves and know what I am feeling
and that it would be dangerous if they knew?
Why must it be this way that I have to be in the vast minority
and that the chances of me finding someone to love is
minuscule and difficult; everyone is at a different stage regarding
my certain type of love, and it carries a baggage straight people don't have
it carries a complication, a heartbreaking rope of knots and pain and confusion
and 'do I even feel this way' because you have been taught that you shouldn't
and 'why isn't there straight pride' and 'just don't shove it down my throat'
these type of misunderstandings create this impossible disharmony
'stop queering the straights' 'oh so you're basically a lesbian'
no. I am not a lesbian- please stop classifying me and while you're at it,
please stop acting differently around me because you're scared I'm into you
chances are, I'm not. Please stop asking me why it's necessary for me to come out and say it,
its because every single other person, me included, is assumed to be straight,
and makes comments about dating boys and just boys and it's this eternal 'no ****'
and my own parents want me to bear children and it's part of me, okay?
It's me and it's my self expression and it isn't shoving it down your throat
I just want to know that I can still be completely me and still be completely loved,
that's all, that's why I have to say it out loud,
because it carries with it a kind of suffocation that builds and builds
because everything around you pushes you down and tears at your foundation
and when you finally say it, there's a pain that's gone that you know will never hurt again
but it will always sting, little daggers when your friends won't get quite
as close as they used to and your mom gives you different looks in public
or I am constantly misunderstood and misperceived and it's scary, it's
a scary world for us, it's a scary world for us, it's a scary world for us
and it will be that way until we speak loud enough that we are heard.

You have a wife and four daughters
and a colleague amongst your supporters
mindset engineered: you answer a question
with a question and indulge in light sensationalism

My wife befriends many people - a natural star
suddenly they're saying the same things that you are
ideas are pinched, put to use, there's no excuse
for queering my pitch - you stupid *****

No offence meant: I hold myself to account
who am I to hold court, judgemental nonsense
don't say anything, go sit yourself on the fence
come back to me when you have pounds, shillings and pence

Some commontators seem less than cool
it's doubtful if they could explain the offside rule

Sustainably globally gay – we need more of it / socially-conscious progressive group-think / openness through tolerance of diversity in perversity / justice for more more more of gay gay gay / it’s progress it’s now its queer-friendly because it's sustainably globally gay / when gay gets gayer the queering gets clearer / so let's start the conversation about ****-**** gayness / inclusion through cluelessness in transparent openness / by the way - get GAY / before the homosexual conversation queers the queerness of the ongoing conversation / let's celebrate gayness, **OK ?

She's constantly looking at her watch, gazing around, anticipating an entity, on tenterhooks
She rambles and wanders, agitated
Until she felt a soft brush against her shoulder

"Where have you been? I've been looking for you. You're 30 minutes late"

As she mumbles and fumbles in distress,
her eyes were hooked to another pair of blue eyes, across the alley
Their movements were in recognition
She was at the wrong venue all this while

She suddenly lose her words
Her lips were anchored as she witnesses
Those pair of blue eyes, were sparkling in brilliance, meeting another pair of blue eyes
Their hands locked as they marched away together

She grabs her sore chest, grieving, howling, queering the pitch
Her mind dwelt away, bewildered in her own sentiment
Ignoring the entity next to her, he was in obscure silence

"I've been waiting for you patiently, my whole life" he uttered.

She found the wrong person, at the right time
While he found the right person, at the wrong time
Their tides of life crashing
Their path were inextricably intertwined,
for a reason
Time and fate swears to conspire with the universe
To discover what lies ahead for them

Y’all don’t see me as a guy y’all don’t see me as a girl I’m here to bust your binary bubbles this witch is queering up your world

Silent coyote, and the sky snaps- everything changes,  
the air slithers like a prayer unspoken,  
and you call it devil’s camp of ensnarement,  
but what is a serpent but the muscle memory of gods we’ve forgotten?  
It’s just a fraction, a fissure,  
blowing up a single syllable, queering the sound,  
singling out the shimmer in us  
that refuses to be erased.
A child wonders how human it is  
to be kind when kindness tastes like venom,  
the kind that burns slow, laced with quiet revolutions.  
The opposite of human-kind is me-in-hell,  
but what is hell but the tongue of my sisters,  
licking salt from the wounds we’ve carried?  
Still, I rise-
the smoke from this scorched earth sings my name,  
still, I fight-  
the fists we’ve forgotten to unclench hum under the skin,  
still, I glow-
the light leaking from the cracks they tried to sew shut.
Justice  
Our history should define the stars we carve into the sky,  
not chain them in the iron of yesterday’s grief.  
Fear is a bruise we press into until it blooms,  
but even bruises fade,  
even men remember the softness of their beginnings.

In queer studies. Miss Chief Eagle *******.
Comparison.
Washington.
Queering.
I’m breaking out.
I don’t like how thin the soles of his shoes are.