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Kevin J Taylor Sep 2015
With bat and ball and gloves in hand and on our way
we'd pass by Old Man Finch where when he'd sit and watch the world
one of us would wave. Most times he'd look,
he'd say—Ever tell you boys about the game?

He stole our breath away, sure, a hundred times.
We were fielders for him, basemen, catchers and every ball
split seconds from extra innings in mid-flight-
from-outfield-to-second-base-and-home-plate night games.

Peanuts, beer, hotdog vendors shouting,
with every other voice, shouting!
Out! You buncha losers! C'mon cmon cmon! Safe!
Allow the call or fault it, either way.

We were ball card heroes, just the same,
with bat and ball and gloves in hand and on our way.
This poem tells a story. Life, imagination, games, spirit of play, youth, heroes and age. Baseball! When I was a boy we collected baseball cards. Topps I think. We carried them in our pockets, traded them, flicked them across the schoolyard in games of accuracy, attached them with clothes pegs to our bikes so that they hit against the spokes when we rode and made motorcycle sounds (we imagined). Cards were toys. I don’t collect cards now but if I did I’d collect the most played-with cards I could find.

Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry from common things.)
I am death. I no longer live or breathe and I have no soul, unlike life, what is the journey of the soul. - You think, this guy is a nutcase, maybe drops some wisdom like this, but in life he must be a loser. But how the hell he renders that friggin' skull?
It talks again.
- You and all other mortals will never be at peace, while you do not distribute any of your own true self. - What the hell again? Why the hell me?
- It is only you who can decide when do you live and die. In your case, take that as a friend's advice, not a threat.

It is getting to be more fun with this reanimated one, however I can't get used to her or his appearance. And man, what a lie, not a threat..-****- is it messing with my brain?!
To be continied, stay tune!
Carter Ginter Oct 2018
When I was small
I hoped to be just like my brothers
I didn't see gender differences then
I wanted to play the same sports
To join in on family football games
I wanted to be one of the boys too
Take my shirt off
Run the ball down the road
Play in the mud
Maybe I just wanted to be included
And maybe I saw them as the cool kids
Looking back now
It seems much more telling
You are in a dream, that is what you think.

All you hear are quiet footsteps that keep getting subtly louder. A little before you open your eyes to see the approaching thing, you realize that it is already in front of you.
You catch sight of a masked figure, which starts talking to you at a reverbed tone.

- Wake up! I've been watching you. You are not as alone as you have thought or you think. There are more layers of existence and the single one you live in is the real itself.

But there, as you might have guessed, many other worlds that are possible. They may cross your future or slip away forever if you cannot make the leap.

Consider your life, your ability a gift, your sensitivity a power.

Now, follow me.

The masked monk turns around and starts walking towards a dark door opening, slowly disappearing in the bluish black for that surrounds you. You can't help but to follow him (...or her, you could not decide what kind of voice was this, but you would bet on it that this monk wasn't human, just looked like one...) and pass through the door. It is even darker inside, but you see a small candle lightening up. The monk takes off the mask.

- I am ... (to be continued)
Kj May 2016
he kisses my shouldeR-
And woW, that's a really nice bElt
his hands are on my hips-
but What do you fear most?
he opens His bedroom door-
is this the Answer To my question
or the bEginning of *yours?
what are we?
Mauren Oct 2018
where it starts
1. your girlfriend will have a miscarriage
for the second time
and you, you'll start using needles
but you tell yourself
a daughter is what would make life worth living
and subsequently what it takes to get you sober

2. you lose your job
because you're always in the bathroom missing veins
loss of job will inevitably spiral into an
"intolerable depression"
"extended sadness"
"whatever version of this is easiest to swallow"

3. you get to spend every holiday from your birthday until The Day She Dies sitting next to your mother's hospital bed
(except for when you're always in the bathroom, missing veiins)

your sister reassures you that mom didn't know the way you also choked back guilt with all the bile and unpleasant things in your trips to the restroom
but for now you will hate yourself
hate the sticky needles
and hate the way your girlfriend leaves all her ghosts behind when she leaves you

4. you find that bathroom floors are your new home
splayed out after your 8th overdose
jail cells are just a normal tuesday
and you keep waking up to razor blades left neatly on your pillow

where it ends

5. giving up ****** is like pulling teeth
messy and painful but typically necessary
and so hard to do alone
Luiz Apr 19
caring about her broken heart
regardless who broke it

shattering your own
in the process

and asking for seconds

© 2019 - Luiz D. Syphre
insta: @luizsyphre or follow #loveisluiz
You cannot trust your mind anymore, the senses must be lying too. It is simply jut not logical that you go mad in sleep when awake, you never have gone mad.
- Listen, mortal. I am, not here, I am, not now, out of the spacetime layer. And in this moment, you, too, will see what I see. History on one big image. From the Creation to the final extinction of known life.
-- You think, well, what about the Big Bang? Is that a lie?
- Not a lie but we have to discuss more earthly mysteries. Listen, what you are currently saying to yourself? Even though you are almost absolutely sure about the conjecture, that you are dreaming, starts to become complicated to proove. What if that's a dream, you kindly ask, now that this dreaming tests are being unconsciously reassure you:
- I's not a dream...
Prepare for the next episode: "...Why is death talking to me? - It is more convenient, we never rest. But since we only trespass the real spacetime layer of yours. - Mad scientist, cool. :) - I am the opposite of mad. - (****, he's right) - Do you have any questions, death? - Only answers. But don't bother, I have get used to the ****. It is unreal in our denser layers. The species with most intelligence we found, strangely: humans...
Seanathon Aug 27
We love the rain
Not because we can hear the sky
But that we can see her thoughts
Tearful rain - an honest series
Seanathon Sep 1
We love the night
Because she holds no secret stars
Or fears no moonlit falling out
Open Skies - An honest series
Carter Ginter Oct 2018
The person I am now dating
Has come to terms with
His own trans identity
When we met he looked like a girl
But I could sense something within him
Something that resonated with
My own confusing feelings of gender
I asked him if he was trans
And at that point
He used the term nonbinary
I felt really excited about this
Finally there was someone like me
Who definitely was not a woman
But never felt like a man either
It was actually just a space in his journey
And he eventually came out to me again
It's my first time having a boyfriend
Since coming to terms with my queerness
And I love him deeply
But it has not been easy
Mostly because of the fact that
His transition has led me
To come face-to-face with
My own repressed identity
I have to address and recognize
All of my internalized transphobia
Most of which is aimed at the mirror
Fueled by years of denying myself
While I am definitely not a woman
And have never felt like a man
A lot of the time I feel like a boy
And hope that I will pass as such
I am finally ready to really listen to me
And the needs of my identity
To resume my rightful path
On the road to being myself again
Walk away, Leave everything unsaid,
Unfinished business,
Pretend i'm dead.

The worst part being that I genuinely cared for you,
It seems it's not mutual,
but alright,
I get it. (I guess?)

**** do I hate trying to get sleep & when I finally do,
your in my dreams & all my anger presses repeat.

I can't get my mind around it,
It just doesn't make sense,
after everything we shared,
You're just going to fall back?

Funny because if I remember correctly,
You know every detail about me.
I bet if I walked up to you & asked you a question,
you'd recall.

My favorite part about it all,
Is that you moved on.
She has blonde hair,
blue eyes,
& pale skin as well.

I sound like the Joker when I laugh,
Knowing & asking God to forgive me,
For my next sin.

Nothing against her but I have some questions.
Does she know your dark past?
Does she know what you've been through?
I don't think you mentioned it.

I loved your innocence & purity,
so I held most of mine.
She already had it with her last,
but if that's how you like it,

I don't mean to be bitter,
I'm just stuck at this pace.
Look me in my eyes.
Tell me everything we ever had is gone.
This whole **** tragedy is pulling my worst out,
Yet I don't understand.
Why do I care for you?
When I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I were dead.

But yet you told me & I quote,
"Remember when I said I don’t know my parents birthdays?
I wasn’t actually kidding,
I don’t even know the date of there deaths,
but for some reason I manage to remember most of the things you tell me or that you do"
Is what you said.

It's like now you don't want to work on us.
It's like you are okay with throwing us in the dust.
Why though?
Is it because I was toxic back then,
While I was depressed &
Tried to fashion a belt twice or thrice around my neck.

I really do hate it when you compare me to then,
Like i'm not already better?
I'm not sure if there is a higher power but,
I pray for you everyday.

You are my first & only ever love.
Yet i'm in the wrong but,
Don't forget I don't stand here alone.

Yours Truly.
Just had to release how I felt. Feel free to comment and critique.
Carter Ginter Oct 2018
As I picture myself in the future
Through years of HRT
Small glimmers of excitement
Reflect off the walls of my heart
I rarely feel excitement these days
So this instance is important
I picture ****** hair and muscles
A deepened voice ands flat chest
The physical changes excite me
It's the social ones that scare me
I cannot imagine having male privilege
I cannot imagine not feeling objectified
I cannot imagine being read as a man
I was raised in a position of oppression
I am constantly stared at and made into
Nothing more than the prospect of my *******
And yet,
One day,
It will no longer be that way
I'll just look like a basic white boy
And they'll have no idea
Except that I will not stay silent
I will not hide in the shadows
I am transmasculine and nonbinary
And I refuse to remain invisible
Carter Ginter Oct 2018
Laying alone in my bed
******* in the dark
******* sending scathing ripples
Across my covered female anatomy
And yet in my mind I didn't see that
I pictured myself with women
Which I always attributed to
My hella queer identity
Except I was never myself in the fantasies
My friend told me that's why I couldn't ******
Because I needed to make the thoughts
Much more personal than that
Yet it didn't feel the same
As watching the strangers in ****
In my fantasies, I wasn't me
But I also was
I felt synonymous with the person I saw
I imagined feeling what they felt
But they had a *****
I did not
I thought it was just a kink
I don't think that anymore
Carter Ginter Oct 2018
At some point in college
I was dating my first long-term girlfriend
She knew about my being trans
But we didn't talk about it too much
Sometime during that period
She told me that
She didn't think that she could
Stay with me if I made the choice
To take hormones
Or to get bottom surgery
At that point in my life
I didn't want to lose her or that love
So I decided that I didn't want those things anymore
That I felt good enough without them
Now that it's been a few years
I'm just realizing that I lied to myself
I chose to repress those desires
In order to preserve my relationship
And it took three years after that
To even realize what I'd done to myself
if eyes were mirrors
a child's are a calm lake as
they reflect the stars
"if" haiku series
if death's an exit
it explains the red carpet
on the bathroom floor
"if" haiku series
Luiz Dec 2018
Part 1

She was the type
that would float
him to conversations
with angels

in one delicious word

Part 2

He was the type
that would caress
her sweet lips
to a silence

so that he would not
elevate with words
above her pedestal of


Luiz D. Syphre
© 2018
an M&M Edition Series
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