Another friend died today.

Another friend died today. I am left to fill in my mind With decisions of value. A life lost. A lost life. Every seizure, stroke, Organ failing Carries the weight. A life lost. A lost life. Only pain unbearable Drives a person With offers of cliffs.

Beautiful Boy

 To those who understand that gender is a construct, patience.

As we stumble through the idiocracy of a crumbling empire,
remember that everything forged densely, takes time to dismantle.
Our words, penetrate the stones of ignorance,
crack the core,
cultivating with each chisel, a new foundation.

To those Beautiful Boys, and by boys I mean men
and by men I mean anyone who has ever chosen to identify as such,
even though you sometimes feel that you are on the wrong team,
This poem is for you.

Beautiful Boys of radiant magic -
unfettered by lies and tragedy,
placed upon your shoulders as an armored weight
telling the tales of limitations of your being,

I see you.
Every time you hold your friends,
faces close, heads on shoulders, find the time to cry,
choose supple words in an unyielding world
I see you.
Your tears are diamonds
shining through a time of unconscionable disease of the heart and mind. 

I see you,
afraid, as I.
I see you, masked actors,
accidentally placed upon a pedestal atop the tottering world’s stage.
Increasing imbalance undulates around us,
and we bravely quiver at its edge.
We are all afraid to tell the truth.
We need to tell the truth. 

Beautiful Boys along shadowed walls,
head turned down, out of respect -
wanting the light to shine upon you,
afraid to be noticed,
just wanting to be seen,
I see you.
Resplendent being - wanting more,
just hoping that the here and now is opening some kind of door,
where the expression of your maleness is more than what team you like best,
or conjoling lauds of why every woman is a whore.

Beautiful boys - just trying to get by,
hoping that no one actually looks you in the eye,
I see you.
I see you in your homes, on your phones, alone
No friends to convalesce your tattered soul.
Believing the hype, wishing, pleading for something more.
There is more.

Beautiful Boys who don’t call me dramatic,
see my humanity shining through this patriarchal diatic static.
I see you.

Beautiful Boys who give value to my experience and strain - 
taking time to get to know me,
I see you.
Beautiful boys standing in solidarity with all of humanity
I see you.
Holding up All your sisters,
speaking as a man to other misters about why
We are not your property or prey.
Choosing Us as your allies,
doing the work throughout the day and into tomorrow,
holding fast and festooned with the words of our elders
Emma, Angela, Audre, Bell.
I see you.

Beautiful Boys with tresses long, tied with ribbons,
I see you.

Beautiful boys in colors devine, fabric soft against smooth skin, as you sashay down the street,
I see you.
Beautiful Boys in flowy skirts, knee socks and ruffled shirts
I see you.

Soft of wrist, firm of hip, fears held in check, ready tears for those you love,
I see you.

I see you hold your tongue, wanting to speak,
worried if you turn you’ll run out of cheek.
There are more than two sides to any story.
Pussy, fairy, queen, freak.
Beautiful Boys
I see you.
On the street, a world of pain in your eyes, nothing to eat
still painting your nails and kholing your eyes
I see you.

Beautiful Boys who squeal at puppies, flowers, and kittens
love their mama & hug their pops,

I see you.
I see you pushing past the binary code -
That outdated, stoic impenetrable wall -
No more will you suffer in silence,
No more will you allow others to do the same and never once mention your mama's name,
as a pillar of light, hope, bravery, leadership.

Beautiful boys with beards a blaze, hiding in flannels and greys,
trying so hard to not reveal
your jellied jeweled heart inside,
I see you.
But I want to see more.

I see you telling your sons it’s OK to wear dresses,
make a mess - in the kitchen, and clean it up on your own.
Teaching boys that their mama’s time is their own,
I see you telling your boys to
keep their hands to themselves
when they’re looking too long to  “mind their own”
I see you
putting down your goddamn phone,
looking into your son’s eyes, and
admitting to them -
Beautiful Boy
I see you,
There is a lot of work to be done.

Collateral Damage

In the quiet of the night, before I rolled over,
turned out the light, I looked at my lovers eyes and
asked him what he was thinking about
“Our community, accountability, how to shift the patriarchy”
My heart fluttered, with heads on pillows
we practiced going over our battle cry.
I started remembering what I needed,
my need for hope was conceded, a tear dropped, and I said more
“I am looking for my allies, the homies that got my back
the ones who are going stand their ground and testify!
Stand in the streets, over-looking defeat,
turn-a-round to look at me and mystify.
I want my friends to form circles and pretend
to be best friends with femme-strangers in need.
I want the men in my life to stand up when I need it
call out their counter-parts, instead of looking  the other way
speak-up, stay, say the hard words that need to be said.”

His body hardened, pulled away, smile faded
He says nobody owes anyone anything,
told me we are all just humans, it’s not one halves job
to do the rest, that women also keep the patriarchy strong.
Like I don’t know this, live it every day, like my words had no meaning
and he didn’t hear a god damn thing I say.
My heart dropped, I didn’t matter.
The misogyny outside my door-step, the rapes,
daily abuse of being a woman who men think they can use,
having to play kind to men who see me as less than
a human at all, came here to play.
His lack of empathy feels like a smack to me
against the face of my soul.
I am the Bank heist;
he just reached in and stole
the last three years of my life.

He tells me to give him some credit
like the effort is an instant debit
I want to say, “Baby I have given out so much credit without collateral
I am like a savings & loan scandal.
The real estate bubble of my heart is about to burst, and
it’s filled with nothing, but air and dirt.”

My empty pockets of despair filled with tears and air,
kept my wheels turning like a recreational user on Adderall.
How many half-assed, half-baked, total flakes does it take
for me to learn that the more they take the more they earn,
while I am left with a yearning for something more.
Maybe if we all started giving when we see it’s needed
instead of taking until it burns
our hearts would not be found in a deficit on our returns.

Fool Me Thrice

Disregarded again
forgotten, set-aside so easily
light of day shaded eyes
shadows dissipate where we play
pretend, touches mean nothing
heart-bonds will break
a tool to your fool-heart
mistakes, just take and take.

Fill the Chasms With Zealous Life

I can take your pain,
bond it to me, pull the ribbons tight
pluck me in the night
I will vibrate dissonance
and when the discord is torn,
weave a new tale.
I turn sludge into laughter,
still call you friend after,
want to talk about the seasons
stare into your eyes
ignore the chatter
of the room, your mind
our souls.
Come wander with me,
step into the shadows
hear the echoes falling off alley walls,
as we let the light of the night and moon
blind reason,
set one foot over the threshold
into the fairies ring
let this enchantment begin
place your hand in mine
your heart upon my sleeve
come along with me, love
from a place without end,
no competition, scarcity or shame
mirror with me in hope
hold me, inflame
for once in your life
stop being afraid.
Rise with me from
wells of knowledge
wash clean the surfaces
fill the chasms with zealous life
soften our boundaries
be moss on a river bank
grow an emerald carpet, rounded cliffs
jagged edges softened to the touch
take-up the mirrored light of affection
absorbing shadows into darkness.
What if it didn’t have to be either or
didn’t have to suffice with less or more
what if contentment is found in the in-between
the parts of love unseen
what if love is
what happens when we bleed
trust?

In Intervals

As long as we are firm in our skin
bounce to our breast
taut in our flesh
presented as the best
we are not left to guess.
Now, mirrors occasionally
reflect in jest
knowing outcomes of this mess,
waning eyes asking for less
and time marches on.
I wish I could tell you more
some knowledge
dug easily from the ground
fracked flesh, pouring forth
life forces
a gourd filled to dispense.
But all I know is this:
every line in my skin will fill-in
like grout,
spaces in between a mosaic
tiles, telling a tale of by gone days
full lip pout will turn to thin lined doubt
tight grips and burning flames, will go out,
regrets left behind in the choosing,
womb left empty
leaving room for ideas
sallow, shallow, hell if I know
what belongs in this cage
vague promises made
no longer fresh, a guest in this flesh,
and time marches on.
Unwinding my bindings,
I loosen the ties
lace by lace, revealing,
finally able to breathe,
deeply, releasing the pressure
until I reach my soul,
the piece of me that knows
truth.