We could have talked for hours and nothing would have been accomplished. It is because the foundation he built, that expected a lover to provide the passion, lacked the instructions to be self-motivated. Still he spoke the faulty language while I spoke romantic rhyme, and neither one of us knew each other better in blather. It didn’t stop the game. We went on, and I fell in love with all the dangerous denial. Forever ago I might have stopped myself before it even started. Forever ago I had something figured out. Forever ago, rationality didn’t exist. That day I still didn’t understand what it would mean for me to love a man. More and more days pass between us, and neither one of us can speak a word. In ways I feel lied to and disrespected, and yet I understand things that were misunderstood. It’s disgusting when claimed love is a lie. Touch is beautiful, but when the mind is interrupting, demanding attention, and you never speak up, how am I to respectfully cherish silence? Listen my dear, to all things sentimental. I said listen! I’m telling you how subtle it is, trying to magnify beauty beyond what it is intended. While this is occurring, in your mind you’ve kept the parked car running in the driveway. You are not here with me, and instead of making love, instead of understanding the power in storytelling, instead you could be witnessing old bodies embrace death coming to realize it’s awakening significance, instead you could be allowing the discovery of language communicate your deeper understanding as you admit there’s more to this sadness and the excuses,rather than blaming exhaustion behind why you’re not feeling yourself. Instead of making art that transforms its viewers to believe there are good people in this world, you would rather have me be the one to jump so you won’t be seen as a coward.
I would much rather come to understand how rain and grey clouds establish lighter feelings in my heart. I would rather wear your clothes as a badge of honor and to see my body in a bath saying ‘this belongs to him.’ I don’t know the rain or the clouds, or how the grass responds having two men lay upon it. We never shared activities that invited the dust or mountains. We shared conflict and hid ourselves from vacations that could possibly allow you to know me better, and I imagine you defeated when insulted. If only we learned never to insult ourselves. Permit me to be rude for a while as I claim back the gap in my chest, that holds water between either nipple. I won’t be washing out this mouth today with bleached out water that hides the evidence of my shadow. I won’t be making any mementos just to demonstrate charity. Instead I’ll be content. I’ll be fine knowing the pool of water on my chest. I’ll be fine trying to make sense of when the breeze is cool or warm and whatever memory they may provoke. I’ll be fine writing letters.
You’d better believe that nature’s going to respond to this. She’s going to teach me new songs, especially ones with solos and only a 3 person chorus. I can hardly imagine what that day could be like, but the body seems to know more than my intelligence. The freckle marks on my upper half have spoken to trees before and they’ve claimed to know all about cultures. Their speeches are magnificent, “We know lovers. We’ve seen them in every park. And our indoor cousins know all that happens in beds. We understand the night and all the discussions under the blanket. We could hear the prayers to die gracefully. We were naked too as men smoked cigarettes, witnessing your lungs pant, and your whisper of gratitude. Within our watch we saw everything you were offered by the sun. It’s too bad you were indoors on those days, and it’s only now that you’re seeing more than grey. There is more to its gloominess, but we saw you already knew this. Let us introduce you to purple and blue. Speak your mind with us, and we’ll introduce new companions. We’ll find for you clouds, and we’ll point them all out. Come on out to this wild party and throw into the air all your concerns for men that are gay and all their lovers.”
It couldn’t be that easy could it? Just to walk in the yard and say, “Hey, me and my fellow homosexuals are done with all the non-sense of culture, bars, and misunderstanding each other. We’re all done being so alone. We know our names now, and we’re going to call each other by it.” I don’t think they know any angels. I don’t think they know how things really smell outside of cologne. Lets lift up our shirts and find out. I’ll be sure not to look in your eyes. I’ll have coffee instead of spiced tea, and I’ll let you know if I can make it to dinner, but I’ll tell ya now the chances are I won’t be available because my schedule is all over the place, but never take it personally.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
(Practice Poetry Blurb 1)
‘How’, the word of all analysis, the starting point of philosophy, and ‘why’, its faithful companion, always curious to discover solutions to confidence, doubt, and courage to participate in living. In spite of the storm of thoughts some hands blindfully, or maybe enlightened, will grab their lovers without hesitation. It is judged constantly by the suffering, while I contemplate what it means to be gay in America. The effort is empty and meaningless because a report of jealousy seems as worthless as complimenting trees for growing. It carries on without you.
We all want to know the night, but it will not hold substance without hearing that fragile voice speaking into a microphone, telling the crowded room with deep, shivering breaths, how she’s lost a friend to death and a lover to misunderstanding. It is the same as how the letters of the word listen spell silence. We begin with “How?” and “Why?” How many? And why not? Happiness and meaningfulness require a particular commitment where your responsibilities are more subtle than language or breath.
Clearly, intelligence and the body are not familiar with each other, for I am just as curious to know the night and its songs, and its moves during intelligence’s celebration of discoveries made in the day time. It says, “allow me to know blue deepening to dark violet and its carbon orange companion when I walk down the sidewalk touching the hand of the man I will lay in bed with. Let me laugh at jokes and sublte comments that confirm we’re getting along. Don’t hide how this is love. Don’t hide love behind drama and absolute compatibility. Let her be seen in the effort; like that scarred girl telling us her story in a microphone. Just let me know the breeze that evening and I’ll record the rest that happens. I’ll let myself remember how his hands treated my body. I’ll decide if the weather’s nice enough to leave my window open. I know how to decipher if he wants my hand in his while walking, or if I should beg for his lips to come closer.”
Intelligence will gladly stand up upon hearing such good news, and she’ll command herself out of the body, but never leave. She instead only shifted her focus. What it is to see yourself come into the now, watching it all go by.
I wonder if I’m allowed to ask the impossible question, “could you stop asking for privileges and rights?” You totally deserve them and I’m sure you realize that, but I’m tired of watching such queer occurrences fall upon your identity. Would you give it all up for me?
We all want to know the night, but it will not hold substance without hearing that fragile voice speaking into a microphone, telling the crowded room with deep, shivering breaths, how she’s lost a friend to death and a lover to misunderstanding. It is the same as how the letters of the word listen spell silence. We begin with “How?” and “Why?” How many? And why not? Happiness and meaningfulness require a particular commitment where your responsibilities are more subtle than language or breath.
Clearly, intelligence and the body are not familiar with each other, for I am just as curious to know the night and its songs, and its moves during intelligence’s celebration of discoveries made in the day time. It says, “allow me to know blue deepening to dark violet and its carbon orange companion when I walk down the sidewalk touching the hand of the man I will lay in bed with. Let me laugh at jokes and sublte comments that confirm we’re getting along. Don’t hide how this is love. Don’t hide love behind drama and absolute compatibility. Let her be seen in the effort; like that scarred girl telling us her story in a microphone. Just let me know the breeze that evening and I’ll record the rest that happens. I’ll let myself remember how his hands treated my body. I’ll decide if the weather’s nice enough to leave my window open. I know how to decipher if he wants my hand in his while walking, or if I should beg for his lips to come closer.”
Intelligence will gladly stand up upon hearing such good news, and she’ll command herself out of the body, but never leave. She instead only shifted her focus. What it is to see yourself come into the now, watching it all go by.
I wonder if I’m allowed to ask the impossible question, “could you stop asking for privileges and rights?” You totally deserve them and I’m sure you realize that, but I’m tired of watching such queer occurrences fall upon your identity. Would you give it all up for me?
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Living is Loving...(5-5-2010)
Getting ready for dinner, Robert checked the temperature of the water before entering. Jeff stepped in after him. He rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and began rubbing Rob’s back with the bar of soap.
“Rob, I can’t help but say this, but I feel uncomfortable going to dinner tonight.”
“What’s the Problem?”
“We’re going out to dinner with Nick and his partner.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So? Years ago you use to write letters to this guy. You told me you had kissed him and almost went further. I know it was long ago, but you kept in contact with him since. Even with all the messy drama that has occurred in your life as a result of knowing him. You two have almost dated but somehow things didn’t turn out that way.”
“We’re friends Jeff.”
“You can’t honestly tell me you don’t have feelings for him still.”
“I do have feelings for him.”
“These feelings have ruined some of your previous relationships because you haven’t let him go. How can I trust that this isn’t going to occur again, and that I am just a fool in the midst’s of unresolved emotions?”
“I am afraid you are misunderstanding me. Jeff, I am in a relationship with you now.”
“Dam straight you are, and I don’t want you to forget it. I have been nothing but faithful to you.”
Robert interrupted, “And I honor you for that, but I need you to understand me. The reason I left my previous partners over this is because they didn’t take the opportunity to understand me. I am giving you a chance right now.”
“What am I suppose to understand? You’ve admitted to me that you have feelings for another guy. How do you expect me to act? It’s like you’re telling me you’d like to be with someone else.”
“I am not asking your permission to have an affair with someone whom I am attracted to. These feelings are also more complicated than a mere physical attraction, but also the complexity of sharing moments with this person, talking to them, doing activities together. There is a history that I can’t just tell my mind to forget about it. I am asking for you to understand me and my desire to care for others. I can’t possibly give you one hundred percent of my affection, rejecting everyone else that has ever come before you. I am explaining to you that yes, there are indeed feelings left over in me for someone that I was never with romantically, but there are also feelings left over that are trying to salvage a failed romance into a friendship. They are complicated, but I am not asking if I can act upon my sexual desires for my own benefit.”
“If you keep doing this, meeting with people whom you have feelings for, I am afraid that you will go astray, loving others while you piss on the so-called committed relationship you have right now.”
“How can I love you in this commitment if I don’t honestly acknowledge the true feelings that are indeed inside of me? How can I embrace you now if I ignore the history that made it?”
“How am I to sit here comfortably knowing that your thoughts may be of another man?”
“What more of a guarantee do you want Jeff? I promised you a monogamous relationship. I am acknowledging that we are together, what about my actions of coming home every night to our bed; me in your arms?”
“I want to know for certain that the space that exist between your arms is the place for me to reside.”
Robert embraced Jeff. They stood under the running water in silence with the glow of the afternoon sun hitting the shower curtain wrapped their naked bodies.
“Jeff, when a couple gets involved with each other, what are they supposed to be doing?”
“I don’t understand.”
“We’re together. So now what? What do we do?”
“We do what couples are suppose to do.”
“Which is what exactly?”
“Isn’t it obvious? They’re suppose to be loving each other.”
“LIVE Jeff Live! They’re suppose to live together, with each other. Living IS LOVING, Jeff! LIVE, and I don’t mean just with each other.”
“Well, what do you mean then?”
“They’re suppose to help each other out through each other’s shit. They deal with it all the way companions do for one another. Yeah there’s the sex, and all that good stuff. You talk about being with you, right now. Where the hell do you think I am now Jeff? I am right here, sharing with you my feelings for another man, telling you I am still committed to you. I am letting you know this, see this, see me! I am filling you in Jeff. Where are you? In all of this your mind is more distracted by the fact I have feelings for Nick rather than why I’m even sharing this with all with you. I stand before you, telling you the honest truth. Let me translate this for you. I love you, and I tell you all of this because I love you. Right now, I am with you. I am committed to our relationship. There is space in my heart for other people, but this does not decrease the value of our commitment. If anything, this deepens us to honesty as we share our insides. Ideally, instead of you seeing me as a confused, unfocused lover giving his heart away to outside parties, I would rather that you see me as a person able to cherish his real feelings while still honoring and respecting his commitments.”
“What do you wish to receive out of going to dinner with Nick?”
“I wish to see a friend. I would hope the experience provides for me further closure upon my romantic feelings while strengthening our friendship. We will practice sitting with each other, doing nothing else but just being together. The way I see it, this gives me the chance to love him appropriately because we are livening. I am living with him as a friend, while living with you as a partner. In this way I am loving you both.
“Rob, I can’t help but say this, but I feel uncomfortable going to dinner tonight.”
“What’s the Problem?”
“We’re going out to dinner with Nick and his partner.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So? Years ago you use to write letters to this guy. You told me you had kissed him and almost went further. I know it was long ago, but you kept in contact with him since. Even with all the messy drama that has occurred in your life as a result of knowing him. You two have almost dated but somehow things didn’t turn out that way.”
“We’re friends Jeff.”
“You can’t honestly tell me you don’t have feelings for him still.”
“I do have feelings for him.”
“These feelings have ruined some of your previous relationships because you haven’t let him go. How can I trust that this isn’t going to occur again, and that I am just a fool in the midst’s of unresolved emotions?”
“I am afraid you are misunderstanding me. Jeff, I am in a relationship with you now.”
“Dam straight you are, and I don’t want you to forget it. I have been nothing but faithful to you.”
Robert interrupted, “And I honor you for that, but I need you to understand me. The reason I left my previous partners over this is because they didn’t take the opportunity to understand me. I am giving you a chance right now.”
“What am I suppose to understand? You’ve admitted to me that you have feelings for another guy. How do you expect me to act? It’s like you’re telling me you’d like to be with someone else.”
“I am not asking your permission to have an affair with someone whom I am attracted to. These feelings are also more complicated than a mere physical attraction, but also the complexity of sharing moments with this person, talking to them, doing activities together. There is a history that I can’t just tell my mind to forget about it. I am asking for you to understand me and my desire to care for others. I can’t possibly give you one hundred percent of my affection, rejecting everyone else that has ever come before you. I am explaining to you that yes, there are indeed feelings left over in me for someone that I was never with romantically, but there are also feelings left over that are trying to salvage a failed romance into a friendship. They are complicated, but I am not asking if I can act upon my sexual desires for my own benefit.”
“If you keep doing this, meeting with people whom you have feelings for, I am afraid that you will go astray, loving others while you piss on the so-called committed relationship you have right now.”
“How can I love you in this commitment if I don’t honestly acknowledge the true feelings that are indeed inside of me? How can I embrace you now if I ignore the history that made it?”
“How am I to sit here comfortably knowing that your thoughts may be of another man?”
“What more of a guarantee do you want Jeff? I promised you a monogamous relationship. I am acknowledging that we are together, what about my actions of coming home every night to our bed; me in your arms?”
“I want to know for certain that the space that exist between your arms is the place for me to reside.”
Robert embraced Jeff. They stood under the running water in silence with the glow of the afternoon sun hitting the shower curtain wrapped their naked bodies.
“Jeff, when a couple gets involved with each other, what are they supposed to be doing?”
“I don’t understand.”
“We’re together. So now what? What do we do?”
“We do what couples are suppose to do.”
“Which is what exactly?”
“Isn’t it obvious? They’re suppose to be loving each other.”
“LIVE Jeff Live! They’re suppose to live together, with each other. Living IS LOVING, Jeff! LIVE, and I don’t mean just with each other.”
“Well, what do you mean then?”
“They’re suppose to help each other out through each other’s shit. They deal with it all the way companions do for one another. Yeah there’s the sex, and all that good stuff. You talk about being with you, right now. Where the hell do you think I am now Jeff? I am right here, sharing with you my feelings for another man, telling you I am still committed to you. I am letting you know this, see this, see me! I am filling you in Jeff. Where are you? In all of this your mind is more distracted by the fact I have feelings for Nick rather than why I’m even sharing this with all with you. I stand before you, telling you the honest truth. Let me translate this for you. I love you, and I tell you all of this because I love you. Right now, I am with you. I am committed to our relationship. There is space in my heart for other people, but this does not decrease the value of our commitment. If anything, this deepens us to honesty as we share our insides. Ideally, instead of you seeing me as a confused, unfocused lover giving his heart away to outside parties, I would rather that you see me as a person able to cherish his real feelings while still honoring and respecting his commitments.”
“What do you wish to receive out of going to dinner with Nick?”
“I wish to see a friend. I would hope the experience provides for me further closure upon my romantic feelings while strengthening our friendship. We will practice sitting with each other, doing nothing else but just being together. The way I see it, this gives me the chance to love him appropriately because we are livening. I am living with him as a friend, while living with you as a partner. In this way I am loving you both.
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