Twofer Tuesday Poetry: Dreams Never Lost & Superficial

Dreams Never Lost

She sits alone looking out towards the Sea
On a Cliff covered in black rocks and dirt
She knows only abandonment and pain
She’s a bitter Dream that was forgotten
She remembers being a young girl’s friend
This girl and her Dream were never apart
For many years, they went on adventures
For many years, they planned their own futures
As time continued on, they grew apart
The Dream’s friend, she grew into a woman
And focused her attention on herself
She gave up on her Dream for easier life
This Dream now lost with no place to belong
She sits on her Cliff angry and broken
Each day grows darker, each day she’s alone
She’s a calloused Dream who has no more tears
One day she’s approached by an old stranger
An old woman who’s more like a Shadow
It is her young friend from so long ago
She seeks one more chance to follow her Dream
Two bitter old souls coming together
They leave the Cliff for one last adventure


You ever see
A drag queen without makeup

It’s funny how
All those men can become
More beautiful than any woman

Even straight men
Call them beautiful

I think men
Are only attracted to
The makeup not the person

You shouldn’t have to
Paint your face
To get someone’s attention

Maybe if men view themselves as beautiful
They’ll think everyone else is beautiful

Drag queens without makeup
Are still

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.

Poetry Monday: Sky Lashes

He begins with a clean shave
And washes and dries the skin
He covers the whole face with foundation
Then applies more foundation
For highlights
Then more foundation for highlighting
And shaping the nose
He applies contour makeup
To go around the face
He sets the highlights with powder
Then translucent setting powder
For the whole face
He sets the highlights again
He uses a piece of cut cardboard
For the contour powder
Then more contour to shape the nose
Blending and more blending
He brushes off the highlight powder

The eyes require the most attention
First, he must cover the eyebrows
He uses a pressed powder to shape them
He applies gel liner to each eye lid
He paints the eyeshadow just below the eyebrow
Then more eyeshadow; purples and blues
Then liquid eyeliner; then the water line
He adds more eyeshadow below the eye
With false eye lashes, he looks like a she
But she’s not finished
She uses an eyebrow pencil then
A fine tip liner for the hair in the eyebrow
She adds blush when finished with the eyes
With a lip pencil, she outlines her future mouth
It’s larger than the real one
She applies lipstick and lip gloss to finish her face
She puts on her dress, her nails, her jewelry, her wig
She has transformed into a towering goddess

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.

Twofer Tuesday Poetry: Employment is Relative & February 13, 2016

Employment Is Relative

I discovered true happiness
When I was unemployed.
I always worried about money,
About food,
About bills,
But not much else.
It was almost freedom.

I spent my time
Bouncing between libraries,
Coffee shops,
Or quiet outdoor patios.
I would write.
I would read.
I would revise and rewrite.

Living the dream.

I always felt
Everything happened for a reason.
It was a rough patch,
This unemployment.
It lasted
Too long
For my comfort.

It was necessary – 

I had to
Live my passion,
If only for a moment.
I glimpsed at my future.
My beautiful future.
A homeless

What a dream I have
For myself.
I’ll fill it with
Rejection letters,
Unfinished stories
And drafts,
Lists of ideas
For stories and poems,
And the thoughts
Of a lunatic mind
With no hope
Of recovery
Or redemption.

Such is the life of
A writer.

There’s never enough paper
For the whirlwind of thoughts
The mind endures.

Too many thoughts
Never enough time to write them
You’re unemployed.

February 13, 2016

They told me
There was a problem
On the dancefloor.
I saw nothing.
I knew nothing.
A regular customer
Pointed at someone.
I asked to talk outside.
He said, “No!”
He argued with me.
He wanted to fight.
I asked his friends
To get him outside.
They argued with me.
If I forced him out,
This would become a brawl.
Someone got in his face.
I told them to back off.
The guy and his friends left.
I took the person who
Got in the guy’s face
To the back gate.
Their behavior was the problem.
They called me Transphobic,
And said there was a hate crime.
I told them to call the police.
The next day, they boycotted the bar.
They said I kicked them out,
But listened to the
Douchebag straight guy’s story.
They said our bar and 
The macho security
Hated trans people.
They never spoke to
Us or came back.
They don’t know
The douchebag straight guy
Tried to fight me.
He never came back.
Trans people still go to that bar.

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.