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.