Beej Simrov | + Follow Poet |
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Do We Have Nothing Left?

I’m with you,
I’m without when not.

That’s how much you’ve become.
Plastered fabric enmeshed into me.
Like drywall, yet to crack, but firm and white.

Bare bones make us who we are.
I can feel yours now, I think.

The way you flick your heel as you step forward, pounce-like with nonchalant-yet-Russian-level-ballet.

Had I been 18 when we met I’d have thought you “too gay”.

That’s what I get for being born into a place that creates fake versions of us on the television.

Decades of endless tropes, tropical flamingos standing with an over-confident leg shoved straight through the mud.

Anyway(s), when I met you, I thought that. 

The first word I said was “privyet”,
since Irina and Sergey taught me how.

I was proud.

You could definitely not tell.

Your eyeballs looked at the “what the f is that” spot* so I could tell.

* Bottom corners of eyes with a dramatic frown. 

You said “privyet” too, then went to bed because of that horrible time preceding. I told you New York was gross below the upper part.

Since then,
I’ve seen you every day.

Since then,
I’ve known what happiness is.

Waking up and wanting to.
Smelling frothy sweet you in my nostrils, on my pillowcase.

I sweat too much, and it’s a problem.
I’m sorry for that, I think it’s Parkinson’s.
Am I paranoid?

Back to the plaster:

I’m with you,
I’m without when not.

The other side of doors is mostly you,
Portals, use a portkey, or a flu,
Stories are enabled in my clues,
Whether watched by eye or diagonal avenues.

I’ve lengthened this poem because I forgot the theme, the motivating muse:

Whether you and I, as gay, are any use.

We won’t pass on in genes,
Though we both have great jeans.

Sex with you doesn’t bring people, only hope.

Hope for happy.

Hope that everything I am isn’t the blasphemy shoved down my esophagus by institutions perpetuating systematic molestation and rape.

Yet I’m the sinner. 

Yet my people are they who bring the Devil.

We, who love and connect with everyone.

We, who are forced into shadows for fear of light.

We, who literally help prevent the world’s population from exploding, you nasty straight twits.

Anyway(s)

What do we pass on?
You and I?
Is it We?

There is no She,
So there can’t be a He+She=She/He in the works. Just a He+He=2He.

What should we leave, if not just pieces of ourselves in animation?

All I know is that I love you, and that’s enough for me.








Again for Danny May 6 2023

Copyright © Beej Simrov | Year Posted 2023

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Craig Cornish Date: 6/9/2023 10:08:00 AM You have an exceptional talent and an even better heart...this, from an old straight white guy who wishes the only genes that could be procreated are those that live and let love - pretty simple if we allow it to be... Login to Reply Beej Simrov Date: 6/10/2023 6:04:00 PM Craig, I agree with you. My use of the term “my people” in this poem is meant to allude to the marginalization of us into a group despite not wanting to be nor choosing to be. One can only think in groups when they are shoved into them inorganically. Earlier parts in the poem like the flamingo line are references to my disgust towards the false group (“gay men”) that I am forced to identify with. It was the moment I stopped allowing this fake group to represent me when I came to accept myself as a member of the whole. I want for a world where we don’t categorize uselessly. Thanks for stopping in and sharing your thoughts with a fellow people :) Craig Cornish Date: 6/9/2023 12:17:00 PM BTW, I consider everyone MY people---so freakin crazy! If an alien ship flew over us to destroy us, we would be totally ONE. We should be that way without any cause/catalyst, and it seems that we need catastrophe to pull together, and that is very sad. I've always found it strange that we seem to fall apart in peace and come together in war - such a strange specie we are! Beej Simrov Date: 6/9/2023 11:00:00 AM Wow thanks Craig, that’s very kind and much appreciated.

I Am Anaya Date: 5/10/2023 3:21:00 PM Brilliant, I love your people! It's a beautiful thing to be so happy and sweating just means you are healthy. Your legacy is what you've done for others, not how many babies we have. Nostrovia! xhugsx~Anaya I wouldn't believe GW if I were you, I think he is alegre! Login to Reply Beej Simrov Date: 5/10/2023 5:05:00 PM Thanks for the comment! Very much appreciated, I love my people too (and I don’t actually think “straights” are nasty lol)

Gershon Wolf Date: 5/9/2023 7:17:00 PM Sounds like stars-in-the-sky-all-lit-up love... btw: My wife is from Kharkiv. (Da, Koneshno). Her name is Irina, though she's no ballerina... Mine's not Sergey, and I'm not -- ahem -- either. lol. ~ Gershon, aka Komrade Volkov Login to Reply Beej Simrov Date: 5/10/2023 12:25:00 PM I like the name Irina, it’s a friend’s name. I hope your wife and and her family are all OK over there. My husband is from Siberia, his mom is in Crimea, and it’s been awful what that POS has been doing, if you’re picking up what I’m putin down. I’ve been learning Russian for a few years and it’s a pretty language once it starts making sense. I don’t know Ukrainian but it’s very similar.