Tuesday, August 8, 2017

Death of the Party

I see you.  I behold all of you.  Your little party.  Your feigned joyous vocal ejaculations upon seeing each new guest.  “Oh how have you been?”   “Oh my look how preggers you are!”

Partaking of food, of drink, I sit her, perched in the corner.   I hear you, I comprehend your motives.  You, broad shouldered rugby type, you want to go home with her.  Your smiles are bigger for her, your eyes, though distracted, re-calibrate constantly with her at the center.

You, oh how big and rich you are.  You telling about your job, and how everyone jumps at your command.   And you telling about your boat, your vacation, your family.

Oh now you’re all talking about your hot molded bodies, under the guise of fitness hints.  

What a scene.  I sit in the corner. And now I strike.   Each of you analyzed, each of you primed to fall.  With the a paring knife I slice through the tethers you’ve been so gently weaving throughout the night.   The girl you want?  I distract her with culture.  You fume.  She laughs.  I have no need of tethers.   I deflate your dirigible by talking about your companies scandals.   Oh sure I don’t mention your company, I just mention in passing something I heard in the news.   Now your blimp is limp.  The hot molded bodies.   I cannot destroy that, but I can talk about how you were.  Bring those memories back to everyone.

You come to me, “how have you been?”  I talk about my rashes and poor job performance.   Quietly you shuffle away.

Things are more quiet now.   Slowly I have been putting the party to sleep.   Slowly you leave.  I return to my perch, pick up a novel, and finally breath.

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

1-2-3

The ones like the twos. The twos like the ones. The cleave to each other like silverware stacked in a drawer. 

They think I'm a one. Most do. But I'm a three. I walk past twos and ones all day. I like the ones. But they don't like me. They like the twos. Some twos like me but I don't like them. 

Then one day out of the ocean of ones I found another three. Then I realized we all had been hiding among the ones. The odds were never in my favor but just knowing that in the sandy beaches of ones a few threes hid, made it bare able. I can never tell if someone is a three or a one. But I can hope. 

So which number are you?

Thursday, July 6, 2017

Lost Retreat

There is a place with peaceful breeze; a clearing rounded by ancient trees. A place where streams run clear and deep.  A place where peaceful is my sleep.

There is a place set in my soul. A place where I don't often go.  Where gay and Mormon are well known friends.  A place where the bitterness is end.

I'd like to go to this forest retreat.  I'd like to see those old friends meet.  I'd hear them share their hidden fears.  I'd see them hug through joyful tears.  My soul has the map but I cannot see the path to get there through the tree. But I know a place does exist.  And it's a place I sorely miss.

If you find the way will you take me there?   So I may partake in the peaceful fair.  This battle makes my heart weary.  This battle makes it hard to see that someday I will find the path.  And no longer will I have to ask how a man can be both Mormon and gay.  For God will show me the gentle way.   The scars of battle may form the map....  how did I never think of that.

Thursday, June 22, 2017

Response

While it is true I have affinity for glorious masculinity I don't think you can get rid of me without approaching divinity who will rebuke your bigotry and years of bitter enmity and when we see electricity no doubt you think it aims for me but cut short you despotic glee for the smoke shall issue forth from thee

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Letter to a Friend's Girlfriend

I send a request without hope of redress  that you may have some mercy.

You own the  heart of a man I care for.  we were just friends but I had settled for that tiny sliver of my yearning.

In the times of lower conscious he is so much more but I knew he wouldn't give it to me I was a magnet he is just a piece of iron. But I was fine with just friendship and then you came in and took it like  ten thousand women before you, you've taken my friend's attention.

You two are compatible; the magnetism goes both ways. I don't want to deny my friend a match.  I cannot and  our unspoken agreement was just for friendship after all.

But I would hope every now and then you could enjoy a night out with the girls and I could have my friend again. it's in your hands I know I can't win this fight so  I just beg  for Mercy.

 Even the dogs sometimes getting scraps from the table.

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Gay man; Straight Mormon



Gay man, conservative mormon.  Our labels say we should hate.

Gay man, lonely.   Needing a way to fill time.

Straight friend.   Can i say that?   You don't care that i find that guy hot?

Oh my did you just say that.  I should be offended, but I'm not.

It's funny.  They said all i wanted was a man I could kiss.   But i found a friend and the sex wasn't missed.

What they hell. I am at peace here.   It's not like I've changed my loves.  But i found something totally different.  A brother, who liked who i was.

Gay man,  straight mormon.  Somehow this healed my wounds.  

Gay man; straight mormon.   You left so soon.

Frisbee, cemeteries and holes in the ground. The good old out of doors

Games, movies, and fish raw.  The things indoor.

Gay man.  Straight mormon.  Our labels can go to hell.  

You don't care if I'm fat or ugly.   You don't care if i like to swear.

Was it your God or mine that made us friends.  I guess it might be the same after all.

Gay man, straight mormon.   Fu-- eff them we'll just be bros.

The hole you left is painful.  .  I don't have a rush to close it.   It doesn't need to heal.

Bro-man.  Bro-man.  I'll reserve a part of my heart.   Someday i may find a lover. But he doesn't get that part. 

Monday, February 13, 2017

A few random short word combos

There is a hidden Corner in the nethers of my mind. A dark dank hole of comfort where I will often climb. It's air is stank and musty. it's chairs will comfort none. But this is where I choose to go when facing anyone. The lion we know May tear our soul and maul our oft scarred skin but he is the case I'd rather face than his foreign beastly kin. Pain is comfort when we know the ends of its sharp daggers. More pleasing to know then some new foe who carries fortune or leaves us in tatters

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Here is your horse.   Train it.  Ride it.  Kill it. 

Here is a bridle.  No you fool do not stick it in the mouth make a noose.  Choke it out. 


There there. Good.   Your horse lies dead.  What a good boy.   

Damn.   It awakes.    It's immortal 

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Ahh.  I see you have a beautiful black stallion.  You have taken such good care of it.  You must be proud.  

"But no. My horse is this white stallion over here."

My boy I am so proud of you. Look at the sheen on its black coat.   So perfect.   So strong.  Look at it's muscles. 

"No don't you listen. I have this white Stallion. I take it out riding every day and I feed it and I brush it and I love it so"

Ah the black mane.  There is no fear in the eyes of this prime specimen.  

"Listen to me!  LISTEN! That is my brothers horse.  Look at mine. I have worked so hard on it.  Be proud of me"


Oh. Well.  It is white.   I do not like to look at such beasts.   It's defective.  It's coat will pick up dust.   I'm sorry son. The only thing to do with your horse is make it a gelding.  We'll do it right away.