Freak
I wrote this when I first started realizing I was gay. I thought for sure this is what people thought of me when they found out. Growing up and being told this made it hard for me to coem to terms with my sexuality.
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you damn freaK
you've got no place herE
you've got no reason herE
you've got no business herE
you fucking freaK
you're nature's follY
you're God's unholy experimenT
you sick freaK
you're not welcome herE
you're not wanted herE
you're not liked herE
you demented freaK
you should get a lifE
you should get on your waY
you should get to fixing your wayS
you twisted freaK
you'll go to helL
you'll pay your pricE
you'll diE
Copyright. 2000
buM
I wrote thid poem when I was more or less homeless. I wrote it when I was at one of the lowest parts in life.
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look at hiM
his fat self slumped over on my carpeT
mouth open, eyes closed, methodically tranceD
his chest inflates with thE
sonorous sound of rigid nasal frictioN
sometimes I can't help but wondeR
what hell brought him herE
eighteen years of breathing yeT
a homeless, with no familY
kicked out of home after homE
he once had a mother, and a brotheR
he once had smiles and laughteR
he once had a place here, but no morE
and soon he will depart far, far awaY
taking with him seven years of our memorieS
I wish to sleeP
he chokes on his saliva and stirS
I wish to null this soliloquY
oh Gods, I am going to misS
my best frienD
These two poems I wrote for someone I Love with all that I'am and always will love. I haev not found this person yet but I'm sure I will soon find him. I know of someone worthy of this yet am affraid to tell him.
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I gaze at this man
Longingly
Across the rainbow
Wondering if...
The distance frightens us
Vertigo threatens
So we hesitate
Then the rain begins to fall
In torrents of melancholy
Sweeping away my only
Hope
So I just sit and gaze at him
Longingly...
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Night Words
Here I sit, in my weather beaten chair.
Looking out upon temptation with a shy stare.
Blonde and blue, wishing I could try it true.
My eyes glance up and down, again and all around.
Short walking.
Men talking.
Light conversation over hot meals.
Paid by the night.
Zoom the screetch, the cars whiz by.
This fellow keeps taunting my eye.
Waiting in silence, quiet, refrained.
My mind is wondering, is he doing the same?
I seach for words, but find them not.
The air is cold, yet I am dreadfully hot.
Golden, from his neck, a cross rests softly.
Clinging upon his chest as he laughs.
Seductively he moves in his chair.
Slightly adjusting his delicate locks of hair.
Sleeping, I find myself wondering.
If I had said hell, would he be sharing my pillow
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