Tag: poetry community

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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.

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Throwback Thursday Poetry: My Fate

there is a darkness growing within me
only seen by me and i
breaking through this darkness will be
sooner than you can hide

i am the moon
two faces i will show you
one you would approve
the other would not be true

stepping
on the dark side of the moon
watching
what you would do
running
you will do now
crying
i don’t know how

i have feelings of hate
family causing this state
memories of rape
fantasies of killing the saint

you have nowhere to hide
it is you
that i will find
your face i shall first break
your body thrown up on stakes

the time has come
for me to return
i’ll remain docile
until your mistake
this is my fate

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

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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
Starving
Writer.

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
Forgotten.
Never enough time to write them
Unless
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.