Transformers, December 29, 2014

Would you dare tell a butterfly that it should not be so many different things?

Slime-covered larva, big rig loaded with heart-shaped wings

Comically large for long-distance exploration

Insect-worms, half-breeds, biting and swallowing homespun prisons

(Instead of Martha Stewart blouses)

Convicted of being what they were, sentenced to gnawing rebirth

Would you stare at the larva?

Once, then walk; nature will hide it

In transformation

The debutante's coming out prize:

Glorious, life-saving color in flight

That ruefully diverts eyes

From any lurking ugliness

Would you shed protective skin to find the way home?

Emerging chrysalis, golden sheath, shed

Leaving migratory wings

Two delicate membranes, each in need of the other

Flight, vulnerability's reward
Vulnerability, gravity’s ransom

The fluttering kaleidoscope air-dances home

Knowing that nature does the same thing, over and over

Never labeled insane

When we choose to see beauty instead of a beast

Be Yourself, November 25, 2014

1. Be yourself.

2. No, the other one.

1. Be yourself.

2. We'll tell you who that is.

1. Be yourself.

2. Until we say stop.

1. Be yourself.

2. No such thing.

1. Be yourself.

2. Seriously?  You chose that?

1. Be yourself.

2. No variations allowed.

1. Be yourself.

2. By majority vote, we have eliminated your self.

1. Be yourself.

2. Fuck that shit.

1. Be yourself.

2. And we better not be able to tell you apart.

1. Be yourself.

2. But only if you have more to offer than that.

1. Be yourself.

2. The good self, unless the bad self is really the good self, or they're both the same, or not.

1. Be yourself.

2. So long as it pleases the greatest number.

1. Be yourself.

2. You're an easy target ... for our love, mostly.

1. Be yourself.

1. Be yourself.

There is no two, really. Though, the compassionate - and those with a willingness to hear their words without any bullheaded delays - are quite capable of suggesting a great number of improvements to the you, or to the me, that is. That's cool. Thanks!

Words for the Dark, November 28, 2014

In a black and white movie, what looked like a shamrock to me

Was a club to the person holding all the cards

Our house was old from the start

Patching and painting and tearing down and adding on

Telling ourselves the foundation was good though we never looked

Nothing but dirt, with poor drainage

Crumbling in a conflict between … god, who really gives a damn anymore?

All this while I obediently awaited his answers to my life

But in this dream

I looked him straight in the eye

After surveying that big house of cards that looked so damned good

From the outside

And said we can’t keep doing this

We must end this joint tenancy and go

Our separate ways

Because I deserve to live the life I’m still living

The whole of it not your half

He resisted and kept fighting

Waiting for the next time to show the hand

This ghost had dealt from a deck I didn’t know was stacked

In a game I’d never played

Making others believe, when I wasn’t present

That it was all me

Who kept him here and not his fear of leaving having just learned more about love

Because we were the teacher and the student

A duet of audience and solo performer

I understood his fear

He knew no better than I how or why we still shared these lessons much less this space

So he fought to be him and I fought to be me

In a friendlier game, no more high stakes poker until that day when

I told him that he was no longer welcome

I told him I’d be sad, lying without regret - well, some - because

I needed to meet him where he was and use language he understood and this language

One learned from him

Now designed to save my own skin

Made him feel like he could leave a winner

The final hand played

And just like that, he vanished

Exactly like he had all those years ago

I looked down and saw in my hand a royal flush, all hearts

I’d won back my home

Alone in the beautiful company of me

After all, when has being right ever helped a relationship?

Intuition, October 30, 2014 - February 26, 2015

An inner voice whispered

That no matter where I went or what I did

I would feel safe and be safe, even

In times of despair -

Joy not guaranteed, only

A hope to make it out of the rabbit hole

In the face of all manner of petty

Plans and designs -

               Human plans and designs

That matter only to the living

In the way that solid ground

Might matter to the earthbound.

I actively listen for intuition

Without any argument of the type that causes nations to war

And people to very nearly kill those they profess to love

In the name of being right.

I find comfort in this uncomfortable world,

My burdens become light.

I know that life is not to be lived alone.

Intuition is wisdom confirmed.

God, nature, creativity, science, mythology, creative imagination, spirituality, atheism, agnosticism, the spirituality of atheism:

Names that matter to some, less to others.

So much does not matter.

My inner voice? Matters.

It’s saying that I should try not to be a dick.

Yours, to you, might be saying the same,

Listen.

October 2, 2014:  Memorial Day in Vietnam, 2004

While cleaning out my hard drive, I came across this Remembrance, from May 31, 2004.  Most of the words belong to Dan Ware, the founder of Toto Tours.  Because I admire him greatly, I was proud to read them aloud, along with some modifications and personal observations, in Vietnam near the tunnels of Củ Chi (see Wiki) in memory of our fallen gay brothers and sisters.  Much has changed in the intervening years with respect to gays in the military, while much has remained the same with respect to war and my thoughts about it.

IN REMEMBRANCE

Memorial Day in Vietnam

May 31, 2004

I am honored to be here with each of you as we create together, for the second time on this soil, a fitting memorial service for the gay men who died in the conflict that we call the “Vietnam War” and that the proud people of this country call the “American War.”  I am grateful that you are here to bear witness and to take an active part in the ceremony.

We stand on a land where so many people died, and have today seen evidence of the horrors of war. As with any tragedy or holocaust, it is important that we remember. How could we, a group of gay men, not pause to remember our gay brothers who died here, especially on a day that is traditionally reserved for such remembrances?

Our purpose here today is not to make any political statements for or against the war. It is not to rally beneath any physical symbols, such as the American Flag or the gay flag—symbols that all too often serve to divide one people from another. It is not to rail against the well-documented, unjust treatment of gays in the military, nor do we intend to elevate them as special war heroes. We are here simply to bear witness to the human spirit that transcends all differences—be they cultural, national, or those regarding sexual orientation—and, while celebrating the essence of all life, to reflect upon the unique sacrifices made by our gay brothers in Vietnam.

The men we honor today undoubtedly came to this land for a variety of reasons. Some may have been drafted and sent to Vietnam through no choice of their own. Others may have been pursuing a career in the military. Still others may have arisen patriotically in answer to their country’s call to arms. Whatever their motivations we can be sure of one thing—more was required of them than of their fellow servicemen. Yes, it can said that all members of the military experience some degree of sexual privation and frustration, but only gay service members were denied the right even to utter the true nature of their lives.

At this time, I invite each of you to express your thoughts about being here today – why you are here, what this means to you, or simply to say a few words in remembrance of our fallen brothers and sisters.

[CONTRIBUTIONS BY TOUR PARTICIPANTS]

[EY personal contribution] “My thoughts are that seeing the horror of war, even at a distance now of 29 years, and then only in my imagination fueled by the surrounding landscape, confirms all that I already believe.  No one can truly win.  I came on this tour in part because of present-day events—the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and terrorism in general.  It all seems so messed up.  I wanted to learn more about what America is capable of doing when it loses sight of all that for which it is supposed to stand.  Already, our own people openly discriminate against gay and lesbian service members.  It makes my heart ache to know that some of my brothers and sisters must have died for me, silently, quite horrific deaths on this foreign soil.  But more than that, I realize that losing sight of the inherent humanity of anyone on this earth can lead to the most barbaric and catastrophic of events.”

[OBSERVE A MOMENT OF SILENCE]

I believe a common cord that can never be severed binds us all. Our eternal connection is our humanity, and it defies all labels such as “gay” or “straight” or “American” or “Vietnamese.” To paraphrase the Bard: “I am a gay man. I have the same eyes, hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, and passions as my straight brother.  If you prick me, I bleed.  If you tickle me, I laugh. If you poison me, I die.” There are no fundamental differences between any of us. We dream the same dreams, share the same journey, and, I believe, progress beyond this physical world toward some unity that none of us here can claim to comprehend.

May understanding, peace and unity envelop all the peoples of the world. May the spirit of love bless the souls of all those who lost their lives in this war—from every nation, be they gay or straight.  May our American lives be enriched by the awareness of our inseparable connection to their Vietnamese lives, and the enduring triumph of our collective spirit.

Thank you for sharing with me in this historic Memorial Day observance.

NOTE:  This remembrance was prepared by Dan Ware for the 2003 Memorial Day observance, and adapted by Eddie Young for use in 2004.

Hot Messes Allowed, July 10, 2014

Why write, if not to observe and record?

Imagine a book filled with the same word, repeated.

The greatest of all words, love, collapses without context, which is life,

So my vocabulary must be rich and uncensored,

Welcoming, and creative and colorful and hot as fuck.

Couples homogenized, integrated, assimilated

Perfect for those who want it.

Singles, threesomes, polyamory?

This world needs variety; choices so that each may experience

Full self-expression, maximized being.

The lifestyle?  Create it.  The orientation?  Live it.

Hate?  I have no use for it.

I like it hot, and rough, and vulgar

And affectionate and sweet and playful.

My choice, and yours, of time and place, and of safe word.

Each living as we are meant to live,

Mistake-free the goal, imperfection perfected.

All fit into our world, even the self-described normies,

So long as they do not scowl.

Daddies, boys, leather, BDSM, all kink

College frats, briefs and bulges

Men on cams who get off on showing it all off

(None for me, thanks!)

Smokers and slammers and fuckers and fisters

Barebackers and safer-sex lovers

(Judgers?)

Jocks in sports gear, public exhibitionists, vanilla-flavored

Tea room queers and backroom daddies

Gay men, queers, lesbians, trans-people, cisgender - all letters from the alphabet soup.

Sluts and whores and hung German boys -

They all fit into our world.

Watersports, and sweat, and snot?  Please.

And we eat ass, anyway we want it served.

In our world, we'll help each other

Not to further fuck up this world that we share with everyone.

We're gay for good.

I will try to live authentically, and will help others do the same.

I will never harm anyone, but I'll role-play rough and hard.

And kiss and cuddle and love

Because that makes my cock hard

And my ass crave

And my heart warm

And my soul come alive

Like a gay human being.

Any fetish welcome, or none.

Who am I to change anyone?

Who am I not to help someone who seeks change?

Love required.  Hot messes allowed.
Let’s get better together.

Our Body Earth, June 24-July 8, 2014, looking “down there“ from the plane window

I wonder, why does she, this Earth, suffer cuts?
Flying through her breath, looking down,
I see new landscapes and know these are parts of our body,
She is scarred with dirt roads, fences, and mines in lines and squiggles and depressions.

Circular fields with roads chopped clear to the center
Appear as sundials of the gods,
Unreadable clocks ticking, or waiting.

Square fields of skin cells arrogantly claimed as our own,

Depleted, burned,
Having given their all, lie fallow,
In need of water and nourishment.

This renegade geometry not of her design will be reclaimed, in her abundance of time.

We cut our self and then look away
As though the bleeding water will know how to stop or where to flow.

Rivers governed by sturdy muscle and cartilage and tissue.
Dirt, rock, vegetation
Arteries divide and subdivide, reaching and stretching
Determined to feed all

But for now, I can see her compassion, this earth
Allowing a cut so that we can see it heal
So that we might cut more carefully
Empathically thanking her for this generosity:
An education she knew we needed.

I look down through the window and see in these river veins and arteries
See in the trees lining the feeding flow,
My initials, as if she wants to say hello
and please, protect us.

Though you are not aware of us, I am aware of us.

She interrupts this etch-a-sketch cloud hubris
with a mountain range, or a storm,
Erasing all we've done to her, and
Taming a desert with an assertion of stark, voracious beauty.

She sheds impurities, a volcanic pop

Cities look like sores, roads as intricate tattoos

We skedaddle here and there purposed with mind-stuff
which she tolerates and we recount, with gravity
As if to make us matter to her.

But she doesn't need reason to care
About that which is herself.
I feel us and am grateful for the tear in our eye.
She is loved. I am loved.  You, are loved.