Cultural Warriors*
to a defining moment

We are culture's warriors
Raising our voices through the land -
Teaching with our measures
And our hearts tied to our songs -
Hymns which wrap the people
With heaven's coverlet.

We are the beacons for the century,
To the youth and fiery angels
Leading our pavilions
Into the world's pavilions.

We follow the drum bangers,
The locust eaters and preparers -
Beyond the tabernacles,
Into the hearth places,
The fountain places
Where the sanctuary stones weep
To understand the strains.

The frost heart melts.
The statue head quivers.
The unknowing understand
As we, the cultural warriors
Bring the beacons of truth to the night's cold misery
Leaving in its wake
A clear and starry dawn.

* Inspired by Donna Red Wing

Renew Me

Renew me
With proud songs of courage,
Spent to the wild plum-clouds
In a burst of future hope -
Renew me.

Renew me
In the fiery depths of his eyes at dawn
When night's sarabande cuts the silence
From the rainbow solace.
Renew me.

Renew me
On the terrapin's back
As it slowly moves my comrades to the light.
The spectrum regained in God's eyes as we
Renew ourselves!

When We are All Free

When we are all free,
I'll sleep the sleep of freedom -
And not before.
The mist cloaks dark beauty,
Fires lit by fairies on the bar
Leading freedom's ferry in night's stealth.

I will sleep the sleep
When the lover's creed becomes the law
And men and womyn can call each other
By a lover's law -
A law writ' by living angels
Who know the sleep of freedom
And stay awake to guide us,
Holding high the lantern -
Showing us the way
To our rightful rest.
Then, I'll sleep the sleep of freedom -
And not before.

Personal Hero

I am my own personal hero
And none other -
For the models are not molded
And the map was never started -
So, to the thrill of my inner joy
I annoint my head with my heart
And know no other like myself in total.

I am my own best actor
Hestitating for nothing but the lurers
Who match and sharp my wit
Enriching my script's best turn -
The arch and draw of life's bow.
From quiver to mark,
My life acts out
With the stature of giants -
Heroes for a rainy day
And sun filled afternoons -
For all times and seasons -
Sure as nature -
Sure as self
In the space of crowds
Or alone in a fairy dell -
Let it be known,
I am my own personal hero.

Rage girls with pepper envy
That I know who I am
And put a price on it!

A Night with Rimbaud

for Anthony

Ring me with young hearts -
Songs green with remembrance,
But not so green to be mowed -
Scarlet hussies
With laughter on their breath -
And liquor too,
For they know what I have forgotten
And I need to know again.

Ring me with fiery youth,
Dancing boys who know their stuff -
Who know what I know -
That life is invicible
And infinite.

And when I whisper the truth to them
They laugh at my falling body
But laugh with my seeking soul
And hold me fast to the lies of youth
Which I need to remember
In this life of infinite laughter.

If I were Wise

They say if I were wise
I'd close my eyes and see it their way.
So, what if I'm inclined toward men -
I can be cured and when -
When I see it their way.
After all, the goodly book states I am peculiar,
At least, they say it states so -
And they are wise and know for sure
The ancient tongues translate so.

They say if I were right
All family ties would shatter
And, after all no parent I -
No children's feet will patter,
Or so they say I am
Parasitic like the grave -
They can quote it with born notions -
The world can tell you, hear them say
While I'm here
It is their way.

Yet, in a pool immensely clear
I see to the very bottom -
To the coral glory and I know
That with this pool's baptism
I am annointed by what I say -
And have no sin to wash away.

I say if they are really wise
They'd realize I've heard their say,
Believed it for a day
Then drowned their drone
In the flushing throne
And shouted - "I am Gay!"

Not Just Survival

Not just survival for me -
But a free fall from flying.
Mine to choose and express always
In the face of those who scorn me.
Struggles real confront my soul -
My body, my art and my every stroll -
And I manage -
Remaining in the shade of doubt -
Say survival.

Then I see clearly the loving souls,
The deep eyes of so many men -
Like a rich harvest waiting for nothing but time to gather and thresh;
And I sit by calm pools and splash them because it says "No Horseplay" -
And I love the bad-boy in me
The defiance that lead kings to their thrones.
When drums beat loudly and teach my feet to dance the dance -
When flesh surrounds me in so many ways -
In so many climes -
I am inclined to feel it -
And inclined to sing a song -
Shout a chant,
Hold the hands of my sisters and brothers and join in that old, old hymn -
"Amazing grace".

No, dammit! No!
The doubt shade is the nightshade
And I will not be poisoned thus -
I will manage and survive, it's true -
But I craft the new chant
The new song:
"Not just survival".

Nancy Boy

Nancy Boy
Strut your stuff
But don't know me
Hidden quiet in my maleness.
Flaunt yourself to the world if you must,
But don't wink at me
As I laugh in your shadow.

Fancy Boy
Do your thing
For I approve and know
My approval means much in this hour.
After all, I am beholding to your wrist game
And will concede your raging has made me clear mark.
But still, I lower my voice tone,
And watch my gait with care.
My gym card's full -
Ass scratched - balls pull -
The crew's been in my hair.

In the perfumed corner of my floral room
Late in dawn's darkness I can see
Through the mirror faintly, Nancy Boy -
Silk sheets bless him -
Mousse caress him -
A quiet waltz - a sleeping dance
Pavane masked by birth's decree -
But there's no one in the mirror but me,
Nancy Boy,
There's no one in the mirror but me.

Write Me a Song

Write me a song without cadence -
Free to blow where I will.
Wanton verses, blank and wind swept
Then, carry my home to my sleep.

Write me a song which lingers,
Like the vale of a comet's path -
A melody spinning golden yarn
From morning to bedtime prayers.

Write me a Gay song to sing to the world
A song so sweet they will hear -
Proclaiming the love they would have us denied,
But on hearing they'd melt and sigh.

Write me a song for my fallen
A song filled with hope for our fears -
One overladen with comfort -
One that will catch all our tears.

Write me a song to march to
As I proclaim to the world
The fire I know refined in the glow
And I'll walk with my pride -
Comrades at my side;
And they'll know
When you write me that song.

The Man of My Dreams

The man of my dreams has eyes deep as willows
And dwells in late hours - heart upon pillows -
Drenched in champagne, his lips are mere perfect -
Stay there, dear soul and be perfect.

The men of my waking are not nearly peerless -
They play games and sully
They think and are fitful -
They're real, but I'm hopeful
That they will transform me, so I can see clearly
Their flawless complexions -
Their smart predelictions -
Sage, Rosemary, Thyme and some Cumin -
O, they are real and so human.
Stay there.

The man of my dreams will stay in my dreams,
Crafted by slumbering touch -
Meeting the minions of men with opinions
He'll never emerge beyond reach.
Stay there, dream heaven.
Stay there, real men -
They'll never encounter each other.
Amen!

Passing in My Arms

Passing in my arms
His once full form, now wan
Lifts like a zephyr to a new sphere -
Bathed in the release of sunshine
From the pain of night's faultering light.

I, for my part, feel nothing
So jaded by the hammers and anvils of living -
And feel like another book has been filed
In the angel stacks of heaven.

Gasping, the last breath is caught by my fever -
Stroking his hair as if it still knew
The blessings I give for this awful departure -
This rude, unbidden bursting of petals
From a flower once fragrant for all.

Then, as if the knowing was there,
I feel the love surge -
The still real shadow of a wind swept tree -
And I chant the benediction I have chanted now to oft'
Passing yet another from my arms.

Label Me

Label me bottom,
Or top if you please -
Or whatever your pleasure,
My pleasure fulfill.
After all, the world has marked me all my life -
Now free of their mark,
It's your turn

Label me femme
Or butch if you want -
Plaster my pockets with colors and degrees -
It's so simple to know then
Your pleasure -
My pleasure
And the rest of the world codes us secret you see -
Label me.

Teach me of labels,
That we are all we -
No labels can suit but ours -
Teach me of type casts,
To spurn them with ferver,
But give me a scorecard for us.

Label me stupid
Or mensa or what -
Whatever this evening you see -
But whatever the cubby
You need in a hubby -
Remember, I label me,
Me.

Courage Inner

Courage inner is the music that I play to all the world,
For they know me by my colors
And these colors are diverse.
But even with the sanction that my courage has achieved -
Home is where my song falls fallow
Home is where my courage's shallow -
Home is where I know my journey is far from me conceived.

I speak it to the strangers -
I tell it to my friends.
I flaunt it on my enemies
And still no journey ends;
Because I speak in whispers
In my family cove.
My weeping nightly matches
Their weeping and their love.

As son, I am so honored -
As child, I am protected -
As heir, I am their wonder
But as queer, I am their blunder.
And `though I have the courage
To toss away their fire,
My secret hopes are for them -
My journey, not my pyre.

So, home has changed to strangers
Who do not call me sinner;
And truly love my being
And stoke my courage inner.

What Rules

What rules my heart and groin
Is mastered.
Like a charioteer in the circus bend,
I fight the good steer forward
To not let either pull me off the course -
Victory's laurel and a cup of wine.

Yet, there are times
When the summer's warmth creeps into my leento -
Kissing my nipples and hugging my waist -
And I churn the pillow in a flashing.
No ocean so wide can cool my fire -
No storm, my desire -
And I hunt him out with a steel hot passion -
So brisk he knows but quicksand.

Then, there are times when the power of eyes
The flutter of pecs
Sweeps me beyond the waves
In loves undertow cruel.
And I act like Malvolio in a school's play -
Yellow stockings complete,
Until my friends, bored with the show,
Call for an Intermission.

But see here, give me patience -
For all of you are fools,
For we all have fifteen minutes
Controlled by that which rules.

Too Old to Conjure

Too old to conjure and pass the hat
I leave it now to you.
I came out late -
Missed the best years -
Survived the worsed year;
And since I lived in the closet drear -
Am alive to say,
"It's your turn."

But, what I owe, I owe to myself -
And I owe to myself, my charms -
My magic spun to the coming spheres,
To the young in age and heart -
This conjuring, but wondered old fart.

Give it back, it's mine this gingered trick -
This fairy drag and imperial crown -
For I conjure better than most of you
And wear my years as a glittering gown.

A New Life Together

A new life together they began, the boys -
Without a care for the commentary,
The bullshit lies floating on lakes of appeal.
They just did it.
No money, no livings -
Just love to guide them
And the star of a poet to mend the way.

Magnets pull at these,
Lovers wanting and knowing, but feeling by rote
And learning by pain,
Not unlike all lovers now and since
Despite their congruent counterpane.
Yet, somehow beyond the shout,
Beyond the tricks they need for cash -
They still truly love each other,
`though distanced by the world.

Now they cross the broom,
Throw their teens away,
Much wiser, but too late,
Love worn to a hopeful heart stir -
Yet, there for each other always
As they start a new life apart.

Cannot be Married

Cannot be married those homos and dykes!
Sin against heaven!
Be firm against them.
The sanctity written will cast off the ages
The ancients will scorn us!
The father will strike us
And the earth open up and suck us like Rome.
Farewell to Home!

I say, what has marraige to do with love -
Tradition and canon -
Laws that we need not.
In fact, if I could be hitched up today,
I doubt if I would so -
So, why if I could so, do I fight so and want so,
Seems pointless to some.

But there's the key to the portal of truth.
I cannot be married to the man of my choice,
And whether I choose so -
No rights will I loose so -
Ergo, my shouting and dissonant voice.

Finding in Your Arms

for Kevin and Paul on their 19th Anniversary

Finding in your arms in evening
The lullaby -
The sweet song to carry me away
From the day.
Down to the river's bevel to drink in the clear pool -
Counting the minnows that wink at our image -
Resting beneath the chestnut of our home.

No one needs to know us or about us -
Knowing might confuse them and then they'd know the secret -
The cool of my contentment -
The wisdom in my power -
The source of my compassion -
The truth of my steadfastness.
They would know then,
And would envy my nature.

Hear the wind's sweet whisper -
The lull of lilac perfume -
The rich gardenia balm
And the chestnut of your arms.

When the Voices Come

When the voices come to me at evening,
When I least expect, they say -
"We are all still with you -
Come away, oh come away."

They steal my mind to faces -
Smiles of angels in the dusk
Angels to protect me
As I lulled them off to sleep,
Saying to them, "go before me
Clear the way, oh clear the way."

And when I hear the voices
I am stirred to action
And cannot loose another
To the fire of this thing -
So, I sing all their songs for them
Every hour of every day -
Ribboned chants of "mark my say" -
Forget-me-not tunes of ""lead the way."

When the Gays all Sing in North Carolina

When the gays all sing in North Carolina
They sing on the capitol lawn.
They knock at the doors of their monarch repressive
And sweep the hearth clean of bad law.

Then the gays sing in old Colorado,
They ring to the Rockies that freedom is there.
They rain love and justice on intolerance
With infinite passion and care.

From Maine to Paducah the carolers call
From Roanoke to Portland they herald the spring
Where gay men and womyn can sing a new song
Born on the shimmering phoenix's wing.

When the gays all sing in the arms of their lovers
The nature of harmony grows -
Then will the doves reign over this nation
And the fearful are thrown to the crows.

When the Half of Us is Gone

for Scott and Tom

When the half of us is gone
In the morning's filtered light
The love wake of his heart
Keeps me fast this day.
And I have no illusions
As he has no illusions of my weakness -
Of my power
Of my book and my bouquet.

I long in those dim hours
To be whole again as we had begun,
To be solid and not water falling
Brinked by separation.
His picture graces blotter -
Mind pictures every hour
Until the clock's door opens
And I can edge on home.

Home aromas,
Baking pie,
After shave and laundry strewn -
His hair spray and the hands touch -
The most precious hymn of all to hear -
Simply, "I am home again - dear."

Just Living - Living Just

Just living - living Just!
Let me live like you -
Under this experiment
Regardless of my hue.

Let it be - be it Let!
Just as mine as your's is Just.
And I like sweet geranium
Seek solid ground to bloom my say -
So give me my right soil -
My just deserves -
And I will take it to it's proper closing.

Tramp me not - be not Tramp,
For I will trump in the end you know -
Delude yourself never -
Think yourself clever -
But I or my heirs will have it so.

Where has your hate brought you?

Where has your hate brought you?
Look around Take note!
It’s Sarajevo -
It’s Colorado and Oregon -
It’s San Diego
Burning bushes sacred to the straight and narrow
Defiles in lost canyons,
Where the sun never shines but to burn -
In fire the world turns.

Where has your hate brought you?
To my door -
To the pavilion sacred to those who love,
Who love but do not turn cheeks when javelins are cast in sunshine.
Open your eyes and truly see
The nourished beauty of my soul
Which your hate says
Cannot contain the truth.
How cold -
With ice the world turns.

Where has your hate brought you?
To where it cannot thrive -
Unmeshed by lover’s nature,
Smothered by the christening’s morning light
As a new day dawns,
Driving your unnatural platform
Deep in the dim oblivion as is natural -
In grey-mist this world turns.

The Plan of the Day

for Scott

The plan of the day is mine,
And mine alone -
And although like rose-petals
Or acacia leaves
We might branch together -
There is no plan to do so.

Best this way.

Orchestrating happiness is best left to dead composers,
Who touch score,
Mere ink, and even then
Not happy ‘til the team plays
And branches together -
And then, still happenstance.

Best this way.

Through clouds the sun speaks -
The rainbow may appear
And perhaps a V of geese might seek their home -

All things branch their own way,
Together or apart.
But, alone we enter
And alone we depart.
So, we may grow fine together
Grapes on vine -
But listen with care to me -
The plan of the day is mine.

Best this way.

Wisdom is the Compromise

Wisdom is the compromise between old age and youth -
Folly and care -
Wearing five layer’s in the cold of night
Or just your underwear.
And I must now choose or find the median,
Wear purple at the alter
Or plain pin-stripe at the ball.
Such are choices ill devised
Set out like traps to compromise.

If my young thoughts could only know
To burnish green growing without undertow;
If my aged soul could see it clear
To melt maturity to spirit beer.
But who knows and who does and who can and who will
Few can achieve it,
Few can destill
Youth and old age both on the same vine
And give it and pour it as wisdom’s wine.

So saints go that way and I am no saint.
Wisdom comes only to those who know where -
And perhaps I am wiser than I can conceive,
For I love green folly and follow not care.

In the Eye of the Species

In the eye of the species,
I am equal,
Of great stature
As all my fellow beasts can tell
As we hail from the fount gangetic.

And the rain comes to all,
Black and gold
Pink and blue,
And lavendar souls hug their mates
Sheltered by the high vault of heaven
And in the those eyes we are one
Sprung from Mount Kilamanjaro.

Some marked us with triangles,
Worked us to death,
Imprisoned us - cowards they
As they marked us and marched us away.
Others mocked us,
They made us hid beneath unnatural shelters -
Our skins, loosing pride.
They beat us, discharged us
Forcing our hand
Against them and one another -
A world that’s on fire -
Unwanted - Pariah!

Beasts who need hate are beyond us.
Look to the angels for guidance.
See in sweet nature the rainbows arc high
As we are all equal in the species’ eye.