Having Joined the Liberal Club

it's simply not enough to say

you're on my side

and watch passively

as someone hurls bigotry at me

liberalism isn't something that you are

you don't join the liberal club

and get a badge

and now you are liberal

and that's that

no

liberalism is something that you do

and if you don't do it

you're not a liberal

if you don't fight for marginalized people

you're not a liberal

you're just a spectator

a part of the status quo

-o0o-

Survivor's Poetry

poetry has become the stuff of survival

protest in prose

write a poem

call it food

and eat it word for word

to nourish the belly

for the long road

write a poem

call it anger

a blade to cut through bullshit

in abusive times

I write the road ahead

flatten it

hills knocked flat

ditches filled up

I write the road behind

paved with memory

and myself

stretched

a long story

warping

weaving

waving into the future

a handrail of words to cling to

a guide in the dark

a survival manual for the traveler

-o0o-

Lumen

what do mortals do

when the sun and moon no longer talk

when the stars have all

turned their backs on one another

and the world is dark now

when the great lights

have all but snuffed out their shining

and the mortals who have none

must do without

because the lights are throwing a tantrum

and do the lights then

return

and expect gratitude from the mortals

?

-o0o-

Forced You?

forced you?

to date me?

made you love me?

did I?

it didn't bother me

till I heard a friend say it too

then it bothered me for days

I forced you?

to commit to a relationship?

when I asked you daily

if this is what you wanted

when I told you

that you had a way out

daily

when you took from me

when you took sex

when you took companionship

when you took trust

when you needed a shoulder to cry on

and made me feel ashamed
you'd rather fuck in a car
in the bushes
in the dark
because gods forbid we get discovered in a bed

because I'm not worth committing to?

because I'm good for a fuck

but fuck me if I'm good enough to love

you wanted all the merchandise

but none of the bills

you wanted all the glory

but none of the work

when I asked you to love me

when I asked you commit

and you agreed

and I still told you

there is a way out?

and I asked you daily

if this is what you wanted?

I let you fuck other men

because I was afraid

if I held on too tightly

you'd go away

and I really did love you

and I really did say

that you had a way out

and I asked you each time

if this is what you wanted?

but I forced you?

that's some

patriarchal

sexist

bullshit

I will not accept

you do not get to use me that way

you do not get to use me sexually

you do not get to use me emotionally

and then turn around

and complain that I forced you

to love me

if you ever did love me

believe it or not

I don't have that kind of power

men think this way

that they are owed sex for free

that there is no cost for what they do

that when they make lofty promises

that when they make commitments

that all of that will just blow away

I didn't do anything wrong

in asking you to commit

I didn't do anything wrong

in asking you to be true to me

I didn't do anything wrong

and I gave you the choice

and I do not possess the power

to make people commit against their will

no

I didn't "force" you to date me

I didn't "force" you to love me

you did that all on your own

you are not the wronged party

in the failure of our relationship
I owe you a lot of things
but I never forced you into anything

-o0o-

Biscuit's Got a Blade

Listen biscuit,

don't stab me and cry,

and tell me how non-violent you are.

Let those tears dry.

Wearing them like innocence.

Don't turn around now,

screaming at me,

as if I've done you wrong,

or limited your rights,

with your eyes drooped long,

like a veil to your own funeral,

as if I'm limiting your rights.

Don't pretend that I don't see you,

clearly,

for what you are,

with your knife covered in my blood.

And don't accuse me of robbery,

when I try to take your knife away,

You're not the victim here.

In the same way,

you don't get to say,

when you hop on your privilege,

and tell me it's okay,

when you use bigotry and hatred,

and turn around and say,

"But I'm not a bigot!"

It doesn't work that way.

-o0o-

Ember

the hand of burnt regret

clutches tight to the coal

that they'd never forget

and pursue their one goal

embers like anthracite

lit up their path

and promised to ignite

their anger and wrath

this is no mere gripe

that kindles their fury

as vendettas grow ripe

to play judge and jury

beware of the soul

with a coal in it's fist

they're never made whole

as they'll cease to exist

to let go of that rage

is a life doomed to fade

an unfinished page

a debt left unpaid

-o0o-

Aventurine

aventurine eyes

green little holes

through which he spies

the cat sat watching

still as a post

waiting for me to move

he tilted his head

as if he could upend me instead

shake the inaction from my limbs

where I sat eating, being eyed

by a green-eyed cat

one eye on me

one eye on the slivers of meat

"you know"

I said

"this is bad for cats

it's full of salt and junk"

the cat smiled and said
"that may be true

but as I hear it tell

it's bad for humans too"

-o0o-

Grace and the Lich

Grace brought her sword and silver shield

and wore her iron helm

she saught the barrow in the field

beneath the greying elm

she came to slay the lichly gloom

who stalks the fields at night

and break his bones within his tomb

to end the fearsome sprite

her guide is Morgan, whitebreast crow

who flies about her head

to look above and let her know

of things that lay ahead

she let Grace know as up the road

the lich was lurking there

standing in the bushy woad

with nettles in its hair

she struck the lich about its head

it crumbled into ash

so off she went to find its bed

where sleeps his boney stash

she found the elm and pushed aside

the door of moss and bark

and made her way down inside

into the gloomy dark

and two by two the bones were lain

as teeth cut to the bone

and so was our dear Grace then slain

lichkind don't dwell alone

-o0o-

Life and Death Drink Tea

old soul shiver

cold to the bone

stalking among the stones

alone

waiting for their friend

dreaming they might be there

in the end of the path

and they would embrace

at last

a heart to share

a cup to pour

friendship beyond compare

they that walk beyond the mist

between the rows

of fern frond and grey daisy bloom

knowing the end of the road

coming soon

where once again

to say goodbye

until tomorrow

when we meed again

when souls get shifted

here and there

like the cards on their tea tray

-o0o-

Small Heavens

[When you read this, if you can, try listening to Vangelis' "P.S." from his Voices album.
Link to Song]

when I was small

I dreamt up that ladders were magic

that if you climbed up

really fast

that they'd take you somewhere

else

some magic spells

would whisk me far away

silver bells and cockle shells?

right?

somewhere over the rainbow?

the places only the fairies know?

but no fairy came to take me hand-in-hand

and the world is far more dark 

than Yeats could ever understand

and magic and gods eventually died

so I made small heavens

here

in small places

left toadstool pebbles

and rhinestone wishes

in every corner of the house

and slung about my neck

like a broken dream reforged into living hope

it was my way to cope

a small rope to tether me here

lend me scope for the future

they're small things

mundane

they don't promise far off paradise

or salvation in the darkest of times

but they do lend small breath

so Puck was at once real

with secret kisses 

and silly notes tagged on his horns

as we lay in the leaves under an autumn tree

as he read

and therefore is Love said to be a child

because in choice he is so oft beguiled

and in small moments

in tiny places

hidden away in secret cases

locked up in far cupboards

I kept that shard of my heart

that still sees wonder

and amazes at small things

how flowers turn to the sun

how ladders become doors

how a child can disappear in the leaves

-o0o-

Selective Grief

set the clocks west

the new daylight savings

where red, white, and blue 

become the new whiteface

since lions draw more tears 

than the corpse of a black child

and Beirut is an abandoned building

a haunted house forgotten 

and left barren

while Paris is wined and dined

having turned our eyes to the bells that chimed

and set the clocks westward

ticking the eyes away from marginalized bodies

neocolonial violence in the name of selective grief

and the grief we've carefully chosen

is male, tick

is cisgender, tick

is white, tick

when clocks chime of gay marriage and wedding cake

another transgender corpse is a sponge

soaked with the soap of blood and forget

the body count of neglect

but we're 'celebrated' in retrospect

when we're dead

and our voices gone

and our flailing arms still

and our corpse-like-sponges 

are used to wash the streets

and sweep the detritus away

we hear the battle cry

"all lives matter"

really?

if that were true

we'd expect to see Facebook safety checks 

for every city

we'd expect a candle lit for
every transbody, tock

every brown body, tock

every woman's body, tock
but no
we're

mashed in the cogs of your eurocentric clocks

your patriarchal timepieces

but no

we've learned that "all lives" do not matter

Paris is a good example of that

mass outrage and grief for the European city

wailing and gnashing of teeth for white bodies

and today I watch a white man explain to a black woman

why Beirut deserved what happened to them

because brown bodies do not matter

and what a paltry sacrifice a brown body is

if the world is to be rid of Islam

so his Islamophobia teaches that

brown lives do not matter

and as time drags itself

up the hill of marginalized corpses

so a white man can pin his grief to the summit
where he can build his belltower

and sing to the chimes

of what a fucking victim he is

-o0o-

Azrael

Azrael drinks from the rivers

and she eats from the shores

that when it snows she shivers

and when she's tired she snores

Azrael cries for the living

and sings to the dead at night

she is utterly unforgiving

and her rage is a terrible sight

Azrael makes what's plain dynamic

where once was only death

she makes the stillness quick

and gives the lifeless breath

Azrael bears the departed

on wings as wide as sky

as the life she'd once imparted

she'd also doomed to die

-o0o-

Try Again

try as

I might

run the stretch

a length of effort

I might just

find the strength

again

another lap

around about

risk the world

my head up and out

hope that

maybe this time

it will matter

maybe this time

it will change

pretend to be

a real go-getter

in hopes things

turn out

for the better

-o0o-

Mirror on my Desk

the mirror on my desk lies

it cannot show me as I am

it just repeats

the same crap back at me

the shame, the hate, the inadequacy

I can't trust my mirror anymore

it speaks with the voice of the schoolyard bully

that calls my body into question

making me feel alien from my own skin

and constantly

constantly

making me feel like I want to cut my body away

because somewhere along the line

fat

became something I now suddenly am

and not something I have

-o0o-

Clever

I'm disenamoured with clever

clever without compassion and care

what is your clever?

hollow minstrel to screech out the day

the dull echo of cisgender voices

their chanting cacophony

tintinnabulation of smarts

how they have fallen entirely in love

with the sound of themselves

but there are those of us
we trans people
who have been served stealth as survival

but we’re branded as cheats and liars

because: haven’t-we-fooled-you-good?

the familiar drone of privileged men

clanging their way through us

drowning out our subtle cries

cishet boy scuffs his toe and tjanks so loudly

"but I, too, have known suffering"

while entire generations flood by

queer is flushed down the toilet 

along with used makeup wipes

the loud bells ring

where cishet becomes the gatekeeper

ding-ding-ding

the teacher

back to class

back to class

learn to be cishet

squash yourself back into binary

this is the preapproved syllabus

the school ubiquitous

like air we breathe

cisociety's pseudolung

hissing hissing hissing

pumping our lungs full of it

eradication and assimilation

in the absence of truth

the artificial flavour

this is clever

splained to us from klaxons

"you're a fraud"

"you're a fraud"

"you're a fraud"

"you're a fraud"

sunup to sundown

we don't even hear it anymore

and conveniently neither do they

so they can say

we're imagining things

hearing voices where none exist

the hatred we feel is merely
"truth"
or "science"

biology shoved down our throats

and why not?

Germaine Greer is a "well respected feminist"

TERF through-and-through

and afterall, who are we to disagree?
sung to the same tune of MRA's and atheist dudebros
jammed down our throats
as we're expected to sing their tune

when the same songs we sing to water our plants

are the songs we sing to bury our dead

driven into the ground

by steamdriven machines

heavy percussive clanks

imbedding us in easily consumable

-bite-

-sized-

-chunks-

so Logo TV has something to present

something nice and simple

sweet to the ears

an uncomplicated song

to sing in harmony with homonationalism

pinkwashed lyrics 

for pinkwashed consumers

who all have gay friends

so they totally know the words to sing

all in harmony with the noise

that drowns out the drowning

that screams over the subtle voice

the voice that asks for

her not him

he not she

they not her

ze not he

but clever sounds so much better

and your "free speech"

so much more important

than lives trampled under cisconsumerism

and a feminism that hates women

that likes to pretend that the non-binary doesn't exist

it's all very clever

isn't it?

a clever song

with clever words

and when all is said and done

how good is your clever when we are dead

or was that your tune all along?

-o0o-