Twofer Tuesday Poetry: Symptoms & Shitty Male Role Models


Lack of trust
Social isolation
Difficulty expressing
Low self-esteem
Inhibited sexuality
Repressed memories
Feeling different
Not human
Auditory hallucinating
Anxious behavior
Terminal loneliness
Premature ejaculation
Inability to orgasm
Chest pounding
Hands shaking
Panic attacks

Shitty Male Role Models

My sister was in the army
I had just graduated Basic Combat Training
My father was never in the service
But his brother was way back when
He explained, in the army, that was this and this was that
My sister said things had changed
She said that was that and this was this
My father said no – that was this and this was that
I said my sister was right about that and this
My father said, “Oh I guess they changed things.”
Wasn’t my sister’s validation good enough?

We were at my father’s uncle’s house
And the police showed up
Someone accused my father’s uncle
Of sexually molesting a baby, less than 2-years-old
The police left; no arrests
My father and sister and I said nothing
We learned later the accusations were true
Having a father who had no respect for women
Suddenly didn’t sound so bad

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.

Poetry Monday: The Show Must Go On

Are you watching closely?
I have a show for you
It’s full of amazement
And laughter and trauma
One show with all the things
This show is about pain

Are you watching closely?
Is the illusion real?
Is there a show on stage
If there’s no audience?
Where is everyone?
Don’t they see my exploits?

Are you watching closely?
I say to nothing
Did you have a great time?
Silence from the empty
Do you notice me here?
Are you watching closely?

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.

Throwback Thursday Poetry: Save Me

darkness lurking just behind me
its steamy breath on the back of my neck
chaos’s fantasies stopping me
i have become a mindless wreck

my time has come
i cannot withdraw
without the thunder of guns
i must kill them all

my death would simply empower them
their strength is too great as it is
the only thing i can do now
is the opposite of what has been

they are with me in silence
they are with me in sound
they appear to me in darkness
like a hell bound hound

in my face
you see nothing
in my eyes
you see the suffering

there is one who can save me
from this tormentful dream
i wish someone would tell me
who that one could be

there is no time to waste now
no time to flee
the only one doing the saving
will have to be me

Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.