Twofer Tuesday Poetry: Severed & The Yellow Bird

Severed

I know a woman
The Woman – 
She sees her family
Once a week
She makes time for them
Always – 

I envy her because
I’ve never known this
My family is scattered
Broken – 
We don’t even call
On birthdays –

The Yellow Bird

I came upon a yellow bird
            Chirping as he played

He led me towards adventures
            But I felt pulled away

I thought he tried to hide something
            What could this bird know
Does he shield me or protect me
            From some unknown horror

This yellow bird made me happy
            That’s all that mattered

One day my little friend was gone
            I saw what he saw
Nothing protected me from these
            Nightmares forgotten

I saw my little yellow friend
            With another child
Leading him away from the pain
            Of abusive parents

The yellow bird helps those in need
            He helps you survive

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.

Twofer Tuesday Poetry: Anxious Creatures & Hiatus

Anxious Creatures

So many Twits
And Faces and Grams
With Snaps and Pins
Inside Tubes and Clouds
The world digitized – 
Despite the Links
We are disconnected
Alone
With a rectangle
Hidden in our pocket
And a fear
Of meeting a person
In person
Slaves in digital chains – 
We are social creatures
With social anxiety
So, we blog and post
And watch and like
Puttering in our homes
Day and night

Hiatus

I went four years without sex
I didn’t pursue it but didn’t reject it
Unless I was absolutely certain
That it was mutual consent
Either we were both sober
Or both drunk
Women liked being around me
Because I didn’t try to fuck them
Some of them wanted to fuck me
I was lonely but much happier

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.

Twofer Tuesday Poetry: Transcend Bigotry & First Impressions

Transcend Bigotry

You ever want to
Change your face
Change your race – 
Change your sex
Your gender
Your faith – 
Some would change
To feel accepted
At peace
With the Wasps – 

I claim no place
No label – no box – 
My race, my sex
My everything
Is my name – 
Don’t call me white
Or man
Or straight
Call me James
The only label I claim

I’m not white
I’m just James – 
My four eyes
Are color and gender blind

First Impressions

It doesn’t matter
How many people I help
Or how kind I am – 
You’ll never see me
As anything more
Than some
Bastard –

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.