Sexuality Poems

Sexuality

Does it all matter?
That I am gay, I am a lesbian?
Does it all matter?
that I am transgender, I am Intersexual?
or rather Asexual?

tell me,
Why does it matter
how I walk,
How I dress,
How I speak.

Is my confidence threatening you perhaps?
That you want to crush my spirit so bad
with silly questions and remarks.
I am a she, she is a

Red

"I will never know how you see red and you will never know how I see it." ~ Anne Carson, 'Autobiography Of Red'


Red are my cheeks when you compliment me.
	Red is the bacteria in the southern Red Sea.

Red is the blood that has been shed for freedom.
	Red is the cover of Dutch yellow cheese, edam.

Red,

Flux Eterna

“That body is female!”, they tell me.
At the turn of the moon
It purges itself of its sins,
Washing away what lives could have been,
Punished for failing biological duties.

“That body is female!”, they tell me.
Forever marked with the scarlet letter,
The big, bold, burning red “F”
Branded on the legal document
Of my consciousness.

“That body is female!”, they tell me.
Its

To the Kids

It's an important lesson to children, but epically now, a lot of adults might need the bigger picture.

Trucks and dolls are both toys
So it doesn’t matter with which you game
But we all have our preferences
And in that way we are the same

So some will play with trucks
And some will play with dolls
Some will play with

Heat and Cold

With volcano fire
men can satisfy women
with glacier cold, nothing
can be considered !

Chaz Or Chaste

Midterms are over and I killed ‘em (Yes, even physics) - yeah me! I spent the last two weeks like prisoners do, marking off days until - freedom. Now the pressure’s off and I can chill. Spring break starts tomorrow and I have NO plans. It’s dinnertime and we’re (Leong, Sunny, Lisa and I) in

That Bisexual Energy

Okay, it’s true- I’m into you.
I know your girl and so am I,
But I can’t help that you make my heart 
Fly.
Although, I do- I like boys, gentle Kings of Troy
It took me long to figure out,
But I finally know what my sexual attractions all about.
I don’t think that I could do without,
As it’s just

My Chaste Sin

It's full light of the steady day
Quickly it's night and love now dry hay
My love is pure and chaste, she saw gay
How shall I win i heart without hurting the bay

Hold me ye Hold me ye, why make me be
Now I am but guilty of a sin that sting as bee
Cast me into hell for

Song of Lovesongs

Prologue in BrideVoice

Let Him kiss me
with his patriarchal
predative
straight white monotheistic mouth.

His Yang passion
is more blissful than intoxicating wine;
delicate
elegant
integral in fragrance
of his scent,

His rich capital name
is a regenerating wet
warm oil poured
spasmodically out
and that is why
WoMan loves divine Man.

Lead me in your sacred footsteps,
let us run together.

EmPowering Yang has seduced me
into his unenlightened bedroom;

Sacred Integrity will become

Ma and Me

Did you think, ma, that I,
your son, getting older,
would be writing to you?
You think it's a strange thing to do?

     We rarely ever wrote letters, son,
     so much in touch we were.
     We shared a home for so long
    

Bonedeep Lonely

Imprisoning textures
and routine lectures
in loneliness,

"your own fault"
"not Other's loss"

blame
shame
dipolar co-arising

Loneliness effacing
cognitive/affective reason
and denying access
to more social future seasons

Including primal memories
of self-appreciation
self-sufficiency
communication resource-fullness,

And yet,
     and yet,

Beneath such reasonable busyness,
when I can sustain
opulent MeWe identity,

Even so,
     even so,

EgoWe remains curiously distinct,
courageously Not Othered,
curiously not yet Othering

Embracing 
peak biosystemic health,
abstractly

Lost Pantheons

“Lost Pantheons” 

Alexandrine tragedies
Racine diamond-edged
come and go 
French letters 
blown like leaves
straight up 
into the rarefied air
scattered like lovers
against a body 
of purple vain poetry 
written invisible
on the skin of 
Miss Chance 
Cocteau
spoken with 
joie de vivre crisp
sharp apple-red lips 
painted over 
Comme des Garçons  
Marais tempts Baudelaire 
from early grave despair
laughing joyfully 
le

Foundation

Hold me,

And don’t judge me please.

I am your love,
I am your seed.

Created by you,
Molded differently.

How much more could our connection be?Art

Ready for Display,
Waiting to be pressed firmly.

Twirling with Irony.
Dancing through stick and stones,

Am I your love?
I am your seed.

Created with Energy,
Our connection soon to be.

Love me,
And Let judgment flee.

I am your heart,
I am your seed.

Oh

Sexuality

It's a broad word
Let me dive into it
It's created to be embraced 
Nature at It's raw form
It's created to be enjoyable 
Control is imperative 
Put a lid on it 
It's part of intimacy
Link that chocolate off your fingers
It's part of who you are
Acknowledgement of preferences
It's part of indulgement 
Awakening of senses 
What a creation

You'Re Not a Community, Part Ii

...I use these two as examples,
but this trend goes far beyond them,
the lefties just pick out some traits,
unchosen by women and men,
then build those traits up into walls,
pens and paddocks, like we are cows,
demand we stay where they placed us
by shouting ‘community’ loud.
But it’s all a load of garbage,
humans are not wired this way,
we are

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