Funeral For A Friend

I don't normally write Slam but this was necessary before my head popped off.

"Funeral For A Friend"

The callow talking smack at a funeral

Beneath my boot as grit and I hit

The street again. I walk my Thunder

And I am in to take anybody down

I'm a Stryker; but I bring it with the

Clown, insane at the thought of you

Trying to bring my posse down—you'll

Think you're hard only til I start to frown.

The grease is slick on the street where

We meet with the Bats painted pink

Just to make you think was it twice

I said that thing to that one guy was he

Queer or Trans did I Bi him a drink to

Apologise to the kids in the room, the

Storm swelling now to spell my doom

And the cold gut sweat as we pass you by

THIS TIME but what

If you're thinking now we're a force to be recognised

We're a populace with our own sovereignty

As we seek our own serenity at a funeral

Don't you dare intermission, a Missionary

position is not desired, just sit a while, don't

Interrupt with a sermon cos Doggy Style's

The only way to keep from getting bitten now.

"i/dea/l"

Hello, I wanted to tell you I'm a liar
Placeholder for the ones you can't forget
Your lost and handheld sympathies
Which keep everyone in suspense.

The dirt beneath our feet knows all you're feeling
As the stink of four-foot forceps bears witness to the chaos
To the crimes they once called hers; she calls bemused
To tell me there's another stratus on the rise

If there is enough pale platitude in this
Can we throw on one other:
habeas corpus, ergo sum
ecce homo contra ius commune

It's no great i/dea/l (as you will)
to give water to the drowning
Painting portraits of the days

Which once called home.

If he's hostile, he's hurting. When the river of blood
flows from Mama's wounds he will exclaim about
injustice and invisibility. Interrelation with irritability
may be extrapolated so far only by the initiated.

And when her heaven walks across his soul,
it reminds him of the hell he carries within.
The years of fists and tears beneath his skin
These bags he tries again and again
To put under the radar, or tear asunder.

They pursue him doggedly without regard
For any sense of earthly reward
The poison is not the cure, stop recommending
It to him.





I've been watching films about media and war again. I also got to watch fish killed, their bellies ripped open--but only the fish that had eggs within. Fish carcasses containing Milt (sperm) were given more time and attention. I find this interesting.

Small Town Romance

My life like a tv show:
I walked into greasy spoons,
My friends behind counters
Cheering warm in the dark
And endless cups of coffee
His history with me forgiven not forgotten.

Outside the drunkard wailed Tom Waits

I saw a woman, a vampire version of herself

An endless parade of used bandages and condom wrappers

Ancestral memories of places I've never been

The smell of older types of bombing

Through that door another dimension

Here we're flushed and smiling

Worn tile, fresh paint means

More than any diamonds

More than any praise

Mostly Sincere

This is your secret love note
a sticky square marring a wall, bare,
with seemingly meaningless phrase.
I posted it when I knew you wouldnt be there
You'd arrive after I was gone
off to dance with monsters.

Illogical confessions: I'm afraid of the clear mirror
I disappear to keep the beast from baying in your ear.
Glib reasoning offends with polite mistruths
Plays possum to the pounding boots of another
Hardly breathing in a forest; dying of thirst in a bar

Witness the one who doesnt know what they want
Witness the one who doesn't know who they are.
The Lord loves the sheep; leading Himself to a slaughter
The Lady looks upon Queen Anne's Fool.

How can I convince you to fight fire with water?
I should say, without teaching you to starve at banquets by mistake.
Jumping out of windows should not be attempted
Until you know you're on the 14th floor or higher.
Most people sign these notes 'most sincerely';
Mine will have to read 'sincere, mostly'.



So I just found out that my friend and his wife might come take care of me for awhile after surgery. I'm really hoping that pans out. Being a single dad, surgery--while necessary--is gonna suck.I just need to get the money together. So buy my poetry will ya? Or a Legalize Trans* shirt:

Show your support for my needs--and the rights of all trans folks--with this shirt. Proceeds go to my surgery and Aiden's, too. Click photo or link above.