Pink bows, lace shows
Underneath girl clothes.
She/her, feminine blur
And so I hide in liquor.
I was born and now I’m stuck
Being something I am not.
Future wife, present daughter
Certified Manslaughter.
Do you know the pain you cause
Pulpiteer of God’s strict laws?
Name myself and dress I ought
For a girl is something I am not.
Categories:
pulpiteer, angst, body, boy, depression,
Form: Blank verse
I marched, they marched, we marched
For nothing now it seemed
And I the ego pulpiteer, left parched
Refusing to go underground with the stream
That carried me before to a sheer
Desolate drop, I can struggle unless I fear.
So here in the monastry of altar and pew
I come again O God to you. Next
Time when the fire starts, remember few
Were called to drink gall and text
And I among them have lived pure to truth
Provide a ram for the obedience of youth.
We shall unclenching fist feed in fecund feast
Unwithering love to every poor
Spirited, staggering from kingdom to beast
Blind to thy Jerusalem's door.
I came because I believe, and tremble still
Slobbering at the invisible shadow of your will.
What else, each time timbre of trumpet tells here
And after wars dead flowers are left
What else could counter the clamour of despair
And bring me gloried on knees bereft
Brailing the gored gospel of its giddy solace
Pinnacled on the faith fluttering face to face.
Categories:
pulpiteer, introspectionme,
Form: Verse