Christopher Michael, gay, gay poetry, homosexual, lgbt, queer

Anger’s My Bestie

Anger’s My Bestie

Anger’s my best friend, my poison-penpal, riding
Tandem on my bike everywhere I go, I got my bff
With me all the time, anger and hate, sisters we three,
Anger best friend of all, old stuff, man, old behavior
Shit gone dead and dry in a lifetime’s past, hanging
On for dear life, racing down the slopes screaming
Avalanche!
Anger and me is buds from way on back, he rides
In my hip pocket wherever I go, never let’s go,
Never says I don’t love you bitch, cuz besties don’t,
Besties like that kill your ass point blank!
He ain’t really a friend of mine, a hitch hiker picked
Up in compassion, won’t get of the e ticket ride,
Anger is somebody else’s bitch, not my bestie, but
Its time she be gone, anger’s all I know, all I’ve
Ever known, I don’t wanna know it no more.
Take this hand of mine, place it in yours, make me
Sweet promises to walk with me out of the land of
Dark, past death, past eternity, we will only
Know love, but that ain’t anger’s ride, cooped up
Inside the brain shouting words, words again,
Impeccable truths, lies disguised as truths, lies
Told from pulpits to gravesites, this is gonna
Make you feel, feel good, feel bad, feel your
Time running cold in your veins, feel your time
Wasting away, feeling null and void.
Take my hand, let’s do this heist, robbers and bandits,
Buddies and pals; when we get to the end of the
Line and one of us needs to go, then we go
The other remembers. Who goes first? Depends who
Needs to get to there, guesswork on my part.
Is it all charted out, your days are numbered by the
Big upstairs, your days counted, your end entered into the
Book of life, Sefer HaChaim, where torah says,
Now, if you will forgive their sin [well and good];
But if not, erase me from the record which you have written.
God’s book, recording all our names destined for heaven
If I fuck up in this life, do I get to be in the book of the
Dead, which is a far better place to be? Bombast and
Doubletalk, it’s all here, now, don’t let play tricks in
Your head. Anger’s a pesky fly buzzing round my soup,
Gonna dive in and drown little annoyance, little pesky bitch
Dive in and drown, anger kills, mark my word on
That, anger kills, people die more outta anger than
Drugs, more than holy holy holy hypocrite gonna save
My fat faggot ass, get you out and dance in the streets
Be a jive momma, be alive, damn all the fuck haters,
Anger is gonna kill from the inside, when it’s done,
Spit you out like vomit. Go, sin no more, whatever that
Means, and let it go, let it go and rest, rest, let it die.

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Christopher Michael, gay, gay poetry, homosexual, lgbt, queer

He’s Got da Look

He Gots da Look
 
Oh yeah, you are pretty man, pretty as can be,
You got the look, you got the hottie body, they
Flock around you, pretty man, like flies landing
On shit. You got it all baby! You got the look,
You got the moves, you got what I want, ain’t never
Going be, and all I got is this shit flying out of my mouth,
Down on paper, cuz God said bitch you want be a poet
Write some shit down, see what it looks like,
Write it all down, that boy he got the look, but
I give you this best shit and I be thinking man that
Ain’t all that, ain’t enough, why you not give me more?
More like my brother’s shit, like I can be so fine and hot,
They’d be circling round me like flies to shit wanting
To be a part of this fine ass man.
That’s so yesterday cuz this ass drooped a long
Moment ago, and I ain’t pretty now, that’s so
Gone with the Wind, sorry Scarlet.
I’m looking over there all the time thinking water
Under the bridge.
You’ve got the moves baby, you’ve got it all fine pretty
Thing you are, but you ain’t got me, I’ve got plenty
You heard that song before, right?
I ain’t got you, I ain’t got what you’ve got, I’ve
Gots these fucking words, words make me happy,
Words make me whole, make me wishing I was young
And hot on the trot. I ain’t, so that’s that, what I’ve
Got is good enough cuz it’s the best fuckin’ shit
I’ve got to offer. If I was to be you man, could I do better?
Don’t think so, cuz that’s your pretty boy journey,
20 years down the line, babe, it all fades, it fades,
Babe, it fades, it’s gone like a flash of light so fast
Your eyes missed it.
What’s left is just words on a page.

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Christopher Michael, gay, gay poetry, homosexual, lgbt, queer

Little Boy Lost

Little Boy Lost
 
I ain’t never been one to sell my ass, ‘cept when I gave
That man blow jobs so he’d buy me clothes, an’ drugs,
A place to live, take me to Café Figaro so’s I could eat,
Play cards all night, so’s not to have to pay that
Nasty piper and suck on the limp lollipop, that ain’t the
Same thing as sellin’ my ass for a bag or a bed, I ain’t’
Never done that, I’ve been a whore my whole life, taking,
Using, buying, selling my soul to get by, or I’d steal
From you—anything so’s you’ll love me, take care of this
Wretched tired ass, but that don’t work no more, cuz
I ain’t got no ass to sell ‘cept this tired fucked up old
Wrinkled thing, who wanna buy that for a crappy $10?
Not no one wanna buy some limp dick for a bad blow job
Just to get off, I don’t need your filthy money to live,
I got me my own, when it gone, I’m gone cuz I don’t be
Wanting to stay here all that much Longer with the poverty
Knockin’ at my door, with them sad ass droopy eyes,
Empty ass eyes, I don’t wanna be no old thing at 93
Wearing them diapers, not knowin’ if I shit or I just stink
Cuz I can’t shower, no that ya hear?
I ain’t gonna let that happen, ya hear, ya fuckers wanna
Live til ya be a crypt, walking coffin not know who ya are
Needin’ some youngie to feed you, crumbs dribbling down
Your lips, that It? That it? No I ain’t gonna sell me no ass to get
By, I know where the exit is, ya makes a state while ya here,
Ya leaves ‘em laughing, graceful exit out that door.
What next? Who cares, long as it ain’t this no more.
 

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Christopher Michael, gay, gay poetry, homosexual, lgbt, queer

On a Party

On a Party

On a party with words, old slang man, like on a tear,
On the run, down with it, on a party with no drugs,
Just flying high, getting’ from here to next without
No harm, without death, without blackness,
Just wantin’ to run free, say it all, all of it–
Say what gotta be said, my words speak loud!
I’d dance nekkid in the park showin’ off my fine ass,
I’d do that if it was my art, but it ain’t, so I’d run free
And wild, dress up like the woman I’m meant to be,
Sing, dance, strip off my gowns–you laugh?
I think, it all come out crazy, like crazy in my head when
It’s all sixes and sevens.
I’m done, breathe, pray with me it ain’t wasted energy.
I’ve be that clown, begged love on street corners, in
Dark barroom back rooms, drinkin’ cold beer out of bottles
Pretend I be some rugged he-man, I’d have come fuck
Me eyes all stare just for you to come, come fuck away
With me someplace enchanted, even for an hour,
But that’s not where this train is headed, oh hell no,
It ain’t going there no more!
I’ve been around the bars, parks crusin’ to save my
Life and feed my addiction. Man, do I know what that like!
Been there once too often, arrested cuz that insanity,
That need that ain’t never filled has no brain, it don’t think,
It just do, and it does–life gets filled with consequences,
Consequences ruin lives, so this queen don’t do that
No more, either.
Been around all the things gay men do, maybe
Shouldn’t a done, who is to judge? Me.
We be different, see, not made to be no dads,
Wrestle little boys on our knees, cept the ones
Old enough to play games with us, that’s not
This party, not be a mommy, carry these disturbed
Genes, not what this fag supposed to be.
I done it all, without shame lookin’ backwards, all’s I
See is regret. Sing it Edith, no, no regrets, non, rien de rien.
Non, je ne regrette rien.
I want to regret til the poison runs outta my mouth,
Drips outta my ass, going backwards, I’m runnin’ to
The light, or death, done my regret, said sorry,
That didn’t work, said nothin’ at all, no more, done,
Done with that, movin’ on this party til I wrecks
The hours and this dance be done.

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