To live, To love, Another day

If there is a battle
I hope my head always defers to my heart
-T. Chapman

somebody else's heart 2

 

 

Some…things, so beautiful…one must look away.

Of these things,

the giddiness

and

jest…

set us apart.

Moments worth capturing…yet, set so

hush-ful,

you wonder about the state of your heart.

A corner curls just a trifle from the far reaches of her parted lips.

A nuance clutches your breathing.

Something that never was…

Something that did not always fit.

It is the kind of love that ruptures and raptures your heart…

Though it was not yours, you watch it, well lit.

Even if it is somebodies love you did not know.

It was someone’s else love to have and to hold.

80’s Gay

I could have marched for peace

I could have prayed for community of love

I could have

I could have

I stood out of the closet…that had been the most difficult prize for me

I could have been ‘turned’ around…or so men thought.

Turned in thorny ways…in bed…but not all can be bought.

No matter where I lay, to rest is always challenged.

I lay my politics aside by the nighttime table

I lay my words near my lover’s adornments

Sex is far removed from my inner drive

The field of change…yellow, blue, red, and rainbow…keeps what I offer far and above, alive, alive

Box of Vows

I discovered my vows in the bottom of a box

Scribbled, smooth as silk….yellow, red, purple…

the words,

of love and such.

With tannery hands,

I brushed away the

cobwebs.

I gently blew away the dust.

Endearment’s endeavors had been so young…way back when.

Impasse coupled with miracles…a constant friend.

Years of having worn my heart on my sleeve…lavished me in self proclaimed, misery.

It is only now, by virtue of, love’s vows…

I see the greatest gift of all.

‘You have taught me to take life less seriously.’

Hate Crime

Tell me where to turn.

Tell me where to be different.

Un-knife the knives.

Hooked

Take back the barren bats banging on a coercive black tar ground.

Let me, us, believe, this is hatred.

Hatred cannot surrender until it is unearthed, out in the open and left for the restless to kick around.

Kick around, back to centuries ago.

To a place where the ignorant refuse to grow.

 

Leaning and Loving

I brighten when she and I mend and bind together.

No religion, no oblivion, just a feeling I wish to hold.

There is no mask I could wear that her fingers cannot trace.

When leaning her warmth into me…

My love understands, my mind…a porch swing.

Something high-strung…

An accident preparing for catastrophe.

When she leans into my darkness…

She leans into the darkness…nonetheless.