Category: Poetry

Here I am sat, lobbing grenades.
Defending flames, whilst fires fade.

This wordy ammunition lasts.
Firing it all at top tier class.

Institutions now are kindling?
Social media is swindling?

How do we exit the crater?
Where do we head…four years later?

Firebrands leave us trails of fate.
Our hottest embers lie in wait.

Wherein one is looking for the perfect man.
Until he is found, it is catch as catch can.

Land & realease seems the easiest notion.
Love on the run; while shutting out emotion.

No time to catch feelings & no time to waste.
Lifelong loves lived in a few minutes haste.

Best to know carnally; than not know at all…
Enough to step up to the edge & not fall.

Tracks will stop dead because of a man.
Until he arrives, it is catch as catch can.

A coward father’s ruling ego…
Locked instep with cash & libido.

Always first to mine earth’s foundations.
Blind to stewarding their creations.

Throwing your children under the bus?
Just to avoid some scuttlebutt fuss?

Many issues; but only one heir.
The rest, infighting for the “spare” chair.

Brood born only for tax breaks & clout.
Still, children rebel & truth will out. 

I could live over & over again.
I’d master my life & man’s mortal sin.

Knowing I could do it, I’d plan ahead.
Leave each life’s record to read in death’s bed.

I’d get real good & live projected lives.
In these I’ll have husbands & even wives.

I’d master subjects & have adventures.
All that time…experience its quencher.

However, if I am granted just one.
I’ll take each chance for new things to be done.

Written in oily, hearty, blood.
These warnings of the coming flood.

Shaped by muscle & circumstance.
Colored by learning life & chance.

Sculpted by winds of change & grit.
Born of progress’s writhing fit.

Scaling living’s slippery slope.
Forged in cruelty & cured by hope.

Sharpened & honed by wit & tongue.
Recorded on each ladder’s rung.

Stability is in the shitter…& swirling fast.
They’re bullying strained & overworked federal staff.

Not protesters over it with the powers that be…
But, by their own bosses whitewashing diversity.

Tax & Tariffs harm mainly the meekest in this world.
Most unaware, with their noses around grindstones curled.

Still human under heavens, temples, domes or steeples.
The second & third worlds are still peopled by peoples.

They’re inside servers purging government of function.
Progress at breakneck speed’s no different than destruction.

You see none of yourself in the Queen right here?
Is that all…is that what you detest as Queer?

You’d skin your own joy to avoid being Gay.
Happy’s all you’d be at the end of the day.

Still, of those under our tent; you are not Fans.
If such an archetype, why threatened by Trans?

Angry at love between Ladies without men.
Just broken boys jealous of the Lesbian.

We are The safe space for defining the Mo.
Pride in our Tribe’s the reason our stripes still grow.

Yes, Opportunity can knock…or hide…or run.
It does not care if it is convenient or fun.

Blessed with the benefit of circumstance & time.
Happenstance occurs inside of fair play or crime.

Grab the bull by the horns & blow pride on kazoo.
We know potential passes by…we hunt it too.

Casually waiting to strike; affecting a cool.
Stalk possibilities with a bludgeoning tool.

If you live long enough, some chances come back round.
If they’re missed in the past, they’ll call back before ground.

The thrill of the hunt, the thrill of the chase.
Either have rarely applied in my case.

I’ve painted towns & I have played thru blue.
I’ve slung the drinks & had my fair share too.

I’ve been it, I’ve been him & I’ve been me.
I’ve bolted, I’ve stayed & learned how to be.

Most incarnations, I’d only exist.
Go & get along; do naught to resist.

I never did have ways, or means, or wiles.
I’d find my self in the weeds without guile.

Not much more slick with the advent of age.
Quiet & still in my patina sage.

A blessed burden, the trinkets I’ve taken.
My eyeballs’ collection; has my soul shapen.

Our art & history…our nature & crafts.
Above & below worlds of viewable shafts.

These billion points of light, absorbed in our course.
Those that linger, pierce thru our souls to their source.

There’s Art for everyone & there’s Art right now.
There’s human behavior & tons of know-how.

Ritual baked into birth…& into death.
We are the stories read & lived upon breath.