Poetry Monday: Don't Call Me Macho

I know I strut
When I walk
Keep my head up
And make eye contact
I raise my voice 
And get louder
To get your attention
I hold my head high
And take command
Of the room
I know these are
All the things you see
But please don’t call me macho

You don’t see me
Open doors for women
And men
And the people still deciding
You don’t hear me say
Please and thank you
Or ask a friend for help
Or cry on someone’s shoulder
When my pet dies
You don’t see the panic attacks
The self-doubt, the depression
The terminal aloneness
Please don’t call me macho

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.

Flashback Friday Poetry: Family Life

as time goes by
i start to see
why my life
was so empty

in the past
when it all began
my parent’s marriage
had been a sham
my mother cared more
for strangers she met
than she did for my father
when they went to bed

as years went by
my family grew apart
my sisters had left
and my mother was gone
my father had found
a new woman to be with
for a short time
she was also his mistress
for a few years
we moved around
it seemed she had played him for a fool
my father had found

we got passed the hell
that had the form of a woman
and after a while
my father was opposite of a Mormon

in all these experiences
i had no one to share
i was all alone
but even more so scared
scared of the fact
that i could die this way
tired and alone
for the rest of my days

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

Throwback Thursday Poetry: Lasting Impressions

lasting impressions of a happier time
when the innocence of a child plagued my mind

ignorance is bliss
that is the saying
the less i knew
the happier i played

not a care in the world
not a hint of shame
unfortunately for me
i thought ignorance was lame

knowledge overtook me
i began to use my brain
the only thing that stopped me
was the evil Hunger Pain

as i grew more aware
of my time and place
i started to see
everyone else’s true face

no one was trustworthy
no one was just
they all lived through a lie
they felt it a must

all one could count on
was choice and change
in my life of course
change was the thing

missing the sweet days of a happier year
but things will change more, that is my fear

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