Best Queerly Poems
Another bash
Careening dancers emerge
Frenzied
Gyrating haplessly into jigs
kilts lifting
Maurice nods
Ormond poised queerly
Rocking
stretching
Tim under vintage wiles
Xavier yawning zzs.
The stars are black tonight
They understand this indigo grief
to honor you, they dip their crowns
into the inkwell of infinity.
The stars are black tonight
mood pared by garish green
even the sun tastes of old dried blood
a heart wedged between tide and reef
the stars are black tonight, my love.
Will I ever embrace the grace of truer days,
when you coddled a nearly dead beloved pet
gave your time and lunch to that raggedy gent...
The thickest of your defenses stripped of all veneer...
The stars are black tonight, my dear.
This night lies, queerly tilted in the mind.
I've dreamt of you in thorny places
that I'd never care to seek nor find.
I'd much rather go completely blind; the stars are black tonight, my shine.
I imagine your skin kissing the cold earth.
Rain waters tickling that red kelp hair
swaying to the drumbeats' blight.
Of the final rest, there's no respite
The stars are black tonight.
I really truly don't know
why
some things under the
sun and sky
attract and catch my
fancy
Quite queerly they
happen to be
hot melting smelting
solids
that melt into exquisite
liquids.
Take for instance heated
liquid gold
molten glass or molten
brass
and to watch magma
'neath the earth's fold
Ooh I love just about any
melting mass.
With similar bizarre
ecstasy and fascination
do I always watch
onscreen molten lava
Gliding in serpentine
turns, oblivious of my
admiration
Ah, I just love all that
golden molten mass
Sometimes I even have
such an eccentric craving
to watch just any solid
beauty melting smelting
that I satisfy this craving
by simply imagining
the honey to be some
liquid fire gold
in a crystal clear jar and
liken it to
a metallic gold syrup in
the furnace burning
As if it were stagnant
mini-lava
right before me glowing!
As for other mesmeric
things
that I find real eye-
catching
are those which
everybody else finds
ravishing.
And they are in all shine
dazzling diamond dust
Magical celestial stardust
Glittery terrestrial gold
dust
in mankind's metallic
materialistic lust.!
But I, I am allergic to
dust!:) ;)
I just found a new quarry;
of my childish admiration, he should be wary
having admirers have no quota
so, I’m ready to line up even to the gutter.
Starring embarrassingly, I have no qualms
to his chocolate and well built arms.
The Afro makes him quaint,
his obvious protruding gluteus
is about to make me faint.
He responds with a look quite queerly
that actually shows I’m doing things too early.
How expensive is his emotion?
Trust me, I can handle its quotation
without a quiver, forever and ever.
Oh boy! Right now, I don’t mind a quickie
b’cos I’m gradually feeling silly
just kiss me and I promise we’re quits
and I’ll let it hang on my lips like sweets.
I may be nurturing a wish quite quixotic
but the feeling is unbelievably exotic.
I faced alarming paradoxes
as I headed toward puberty.
First,
my King James Bible-belting parents,
extended family,
and all-hopelessly-WHITE farm community
taught me
God loves me
and all the children,
red and yellow,
and black almost as much as white.
That felt good
but then I learned God hates me
because I became queerly obsessed
with hot guys,
and not hot girls.
So, God restoratively created me
so He could retributively hate me.
That seemed like poor justice and peace planning to me,
and I was still in fifth grade.
Then I learned that God had given me two extraordinary gifts:
Possibly unmeasurable intelligence,
and so,
my grade-school principal warned
my evangelical farmer parents,
we were not to be surprised
if I was and saw this Earth
in a somewhat different way.
My second gift
was the envy of all good Bible-belting out and still-in teenagers.
I could sing with the angels.
So,
the God of Infinite Love
is my Creator
and I am His Frankenstein *****
with a mind and singing voice to soar,
full of Grace.
You and I might both be surprised
how long it took to figure out
Something is very wrong with this picture,
and I don't think it is just me.
It was merely everyone else I knew and trusted
in that Bible-belting time.
So I sang for them in full voice
but gave as little voice to my sexuality as possible.
I wrote papers and test responses
in full A+ voice
but told no one
I knew they were asking wrong questions
for me to answer with full-versed integrity,
Free to sing with David and Jonathon
free of magic superstitions
standing in for mythic polypathic wisdom
of Solomon
Not to divide innocent organic Promise
God has conjoined as Love
of and for children,
red and yellow,
black and white,
gay and lesbian,
bisexual and transgender
And, yes, even straight-faced
Bible-belted out and inward Hate,
Supremely Evangelical Christian Colonizing InBred Correctness,
while continuing to give birth
to hidden,
shamed and blamed ***** Grace
of a Loving God
polypathically immense,
deep and wide,
future through past
regeneratively just
and peaceful
and wickedly funny
Because if we cannot laugh at our egocentric stupidities,
then we must cry out for cosmic tragedy.
Another Day...Another Accursed Blank Screen
Ma wink'n and blink'n
mind nod yet awake,
nor insights keen,
asper ho hum usual, this
(day-glo bull leave
me you) after noon,
(October thirtieth
two thousand and eight teen),
mine myopic brown
marbled occipital orbs
fixate upon a
lone blinking cursor -
hooping such intense stare
will magically glean
a divine comedy,
or even mediocre
shaky spear writ tragedy, none
the less letting thoughts
glom (cess) pool like
into some elusive essence,
finding me madly chasing
(feebly, lamely, queerly
and ridiculously
likened to a teen
age paramour) intriguing,
nattering, and wordlessly
spellbinding notion
all the way to Abilene,
perhaps metamorphosing
into a topnotch
poem (ska lean),
swiftly tailored harried
style even out rivaling
the best newsy
Lake Woebegone fabulist
(formerly Nordic European)
scribes, that juiced might earn
me some crisp
legal tender green,
yet impetus to write,
NOT predicated on ram
ping up checking account,
which primary queen
tis essential money source
of mine to pay bills
appears extremely lean,
and thus apologize if
any hint of desperation
(PULL EASE pledge to
Matthew Scott Harris charity)
seeps extemporaneously typing
this poetic expression,
when financial resources
picked bone dry clean,
and me fanciful
thoughts cannot help
wishing for miraculous
intervention tub bring,
a raft of smiley faces
tomb eye gentle mien
such as receiving
an anonymous bajillion
dollars donated (tummy)
from tennis scene legend
(in her own mind)
aery Billy Jean
King, whose near
exhaustive earnings -
at least compared
to thy germane mein kampf
(accrued during - her mist
starry re:us horse sing around)
straw berry fields
forever hay day
with tangerine trees,
and marmalade skies
completing tennis
(tense) backdrop against
engendered match with
the late Bobby Riggs.
If I were not a GAY white male
living in the USA,
I wonder if I would have grown my LeftBrain up
to so easily hear
Donald John as Head Pharisee
for privileged religiously-held Nationalism--
a totalitarian fake-idol
substituting fake-patriotic raptures
against sacred polyculturing outcomes
for all multiculturing
underprivileged creolizing
natural agnostic and spiritual religious Cultures.
Susan Werner asks
"If God is good
and God is great,
Why is your heaven so small?"
If USA is good,
right or wrong, and
If USA is patriotically great,
loyal to democratic principles of active healthy cooperation
and therefore morally divine,
Why is your current CEO Pharisee of Privilege
so egotistically small,
so badnews mendaciously tiny,
rather than globally sacred
ecologically Great Transitioning
toward restoring climates of polypathic healthy wealth?
If God's timeless polyphonic Paradise
is too narrow,
too spiritually elitist,
for those of us naturally and/or spiritually underprivileged
victims of Trumpian Win/Lose privileged Rapture smallness,
then how sure are you
you have never had a queerly unorthodox sensual thought?
A flicker of sacred matriarchal woundedness?
A flash of natural wet warm wombishness?
An addictive glimmer of longing to reassociate
with sacred Virginal MotherEarth?
How sure are you of not preferring
innocent transgender lily love for each NewDawn--
Raptures in and of NonViolent Revolutionary Fields?
If we cannot recover
some active multicultural hope of landing together
in God's jealously occupied
and punishingly withheld Paradise,
if only to avoid monoculturing risks
of hellfire's sweeping overpopulated damnation
for timeless eternity
of Here with Decomposing/Recomposing Now,
perhaps it is time to recall
Jesus's God of Love,
WinWin Grace,
restorative ego-ecological
co-messianic
co-operative SpiritNatures,
secular Ego with sacred Eco ZeroZone
nondually co-arising
rapturous WinWin healing.
Transparent secular/sacred political vocations
as eco-ministers reforesting wounded Earth
to heal internal addictions to multiculturing Love.
I wandered down the forest way
out into clearing bright
flowers wild in breezes sway
burnished in the noon day light
drowsy from the heat I stray
beneath a drooping limb
above I hear a scolding jay
as weary eyes go dim
I fell into a heavy trance
astrally I seemed to rise
Is this a vision quest perchance?
or just a heavy mid-day meal (that's how I'd surmise!)
but wafting up the path toward
a giant hivelike pod of black
from its gaping maw a torrent poured
and casts me rough upon my back
stunned I stared up to the sky
and felt a creature on my chest
scuttled up and stared into my eye
a strange chimera queerly dressed
bulbous eyes, antennae whipped
abdomen striped black and yellow
with a stinger poisoned dipp'd
a hellish looking fearful fellow!
aghast was I when first he spoke
and gathered 'round me all the clan
for in a woman's voice it spoke (Oh! She's not a bloke!)
"we've come to warn you, son of man!
for centuries we've toiled afield
from blossoms taken nectar’s drop
so all of men enjoy our yield
and harvest fruitful crop
but soon, so soon the season nears
for all my children here to swarm
so from the feast come famine years
forgetting summers bright and warm
we are the few, the last breath of our kind
and must needs take to flight
and to shortsighted men so blind
we grieve at future's blight
so to you who lay there struck so dumb
we offer this lucid trance
that mayhaps it's just a world grown numb
and can be saved (perchance)"
and all at once they're gone
and snapping to my feet
I see I'd slept through night to dawn
and sweating in a sultry heat
rushing home through lea and vale
I stop all the workers in the grove
gather round to tell my tale
of the future's thread we wove
and as I spoke I swear on high
a honeybee flew near
with knowing eyes and a grateful sigh
she and her sisters lingered here...
Image of Coyote Animal Snow by Pixabay
Coyote Corner
Coyotes are wolves near cognate brothers,
closer to jackals who are bred o'er seas,
plus, noted slang for smugglers of mothers
and tots who lacked to grasp the ABCs.
Found hereabouts the USA, merely
south of the border some ways then back up
northbound throughout Canada. Stars queerly
dusk also dawn ... wreak howls, dull stares faceup.
Coyotes balance the way that they hunt;
when they are alone, they pounce on small prey,
nevertheless, whenever they confront
larger beast's, pack forms and perfects the slay.
When faced by coyotes, thrash your body,
yell, throw objects or be a wolf and *pee.
*Though blood brothers, wolves are also a coyote's nemesis and they are quite savvy of "marking one's territory".
2021 June 1
*1st Place*
A BRIAN STRAND SONNET
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 July 30
Queerly
Quakily
Quietly
Quaintly
Questingly
Curiously
Quibbiling
Q
Quickly
Quartering
Quahogs
Quoting
Quay-like
Quiet
Curious
Q
Silky white, pink-tinted petals pushed by dreaded zephyr
They brush against cheeks; comfort sensually skinned
Delicate, freshly bloomed, fall like widows who have wept
I should too if not for ignorance willfully kept
Awesome angels aware anxiously as
Bad boys bellow below
Caverns crisp, cool colorful
Divide day, darkness during
Eager earthly
Featured follies
Grand gigantic goosebumps
Happily and heartily having hope
incessantly inviting
Jesting jerks jolly jokes
Kismet keeps
lasting love laughing long
moving motions momentum
needless naughtiness
other overt
Paltry panhuman panic peaves pride
queerly quirky
Raving rapid recession
stupidity, stubborn sentences stump speech
Takes the thoughts
Under universal
Voracious verity
While wiley words were written woefully
xeno xero xanadu
yearns your
Zion, zenith
Dedicated for my true friend, Pokey the puppy
I have a friend tempered in anxiousness of speed indeed-
He runs, jumps, and adjusts to my manner uncannily-
A good friend is he who waits, in time and fate, for me in kind patience-
His intent, at times, as I see and unbeknownst to him, is non other than to be fed-
I watch him and he I through our anthropomorphic conscientious percipience-
I ask myself, as always I always do, if he has slight of sentience in self-
My friends form of expression queerly questions my countenance in sensibility-
Which may or may not have some truth, for his truth is held in stealth-
I have over the years attempted to lessen him in art of literature-
Although at times he seems to acknowledge this by peeing on our praised favorites-
By all means I consider him more an emotional compartan compared to my kind-
He never regrets or resents me for unfairly failing notice to my dear friend-
Maybe he ponders events by incertitude, though expressions neither deny or confirm-
Though his actions always denotes incentive aspects of verbs, he chooses not to read
I infer a conclusion that we only differ in level of magnitude of consciousness-
For I know that he knows that I know he has some level of meta-cognition
By Mark Miller, An inner examination into our art of artificial selection.
black clouds in the blue
started raining cats and dogs
submerging the roads
A man was walking in rain queerly.
Mocking at running men unfairly
An umbrella he had.
But ill-luck made him sad.
Wind upturned it; he was drenched merely.
fate does strange twists; no remedies for; one should stop giving oneself airs.
Charlie Hai-Lim-Ku Poetry Contest
Monoku poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
Date:31-01-2021.
Placed : 2nd
Deep sleep
seems to be a figment
of my ruminating imagination
Just as my polypathic sex life
seems to be a fading figment
of dark penetrative
and glad light receptive
co-passionate re-imagination
And trauma
feels like a figment
of my Master Knows Best addictive history
limiting legitimately compassionate love
to exclude all my body's wrong
but feels so right
sacred places
Thinking I am a bit queerly curious
about integrity's 1/0 bi-genderal
iconic Taoist co-governance
for health care
CoPassionate pleasures
crowning Light
receiving wealth share,
deep
dark repair
root chakra Power
Dipolar Co-arising
convex-White 1
precessively over
concave-Black Non-0
recessively co-passionate
warmly pleasant
secular bipolarities
with sacred potential
wholarity hilarities
Regenerating ego-1/eco-0 co-empathic mindfulness
appreciating timeless win/win balance
yang-1/yintegral-0 cooperative,
stimulating co-passionate win/win pleasures
Co-invested
since before indigenous wu-wei messages
SunCrowning Light/Earth DarkMoon Powers
Deep wound
whole wombed Black Hole
not-not 0 = +1 panentheistically co-radiant
holonic co-therapeutic
Earth Communication NeuroSystems
Verbally thoughtful passions
and nonverbally felt pleasures
pursuing win/win
CrownVoiced/RootChoiced
co-impassioning grace
Like sacred wind,
a penetrating figment from above
seems to become flirtatious
with deep and wide
creation-bearing seas
yearning seasons
churning pregnantly below
Where troubling sleep
becomes a figment
of deprived
traumatized
self v other
win/lose chronic
degeneration
within
As colored in
between white monotheistic lines
and misbegotten monopolistic lies
Black Hole sacred figments
of timeless wounded blues
lacking courageous deep sensory crews,
curious illuminating clues
searching for compassionate thrival news
As deep sleep
becomes a fleeing figment
of ruminating re-imaginations.