Ready and Willing or Elemental Elementary:

Fire burns. You are sure of this- you placed pondering palms on rings red with an energy I envy even now.
Warms a cold beachside
Burns a house to the ground. 

Ice soothes. you find this true. Sensual shivers. Rids liquids when lids lift chills-down your spine. Yet ice concurred ships, steals warm and drifts. Ocean titans, chapped lips.

Winds blows. whips skirts up hips of Marilynn Monroes. Casts ships without rows, lifts kites, carries crows. Pulls explorers to lands unchartered, dances on shoulders of soliders departing 

Ground stays. patient, pondering puddles and graves. Until it shifts-slides, swallows and gives to rifts. Floats on plates tectonic and drifts. Swift. Ultimately unforgiving, waits many years to swallow the living. 

Water lives. Pulses and flows but sometimes it sits. Calm, sky mirror, but swells and rolls to see itself clearer. Mother, gave a rock life and pulls it back under, gracious in a glass. Sends tsunamis, smothers others. 

Sky shields. Filters rays for flowers and fields. Painted by poets-sunset and moon, breaths your last breath when death leaves the room. Takes that last breath with storm and monsoon. Gives you that breath-fresh flesh from the womb.

Man knows. Studied the earth and crafted the globe. Concurred the sky an charted stars. Man dictates death, dowry and scars. Quick to dismiss what it is, who we are-distracted with stories and missions to mars. 

but I write. Scribbling dreams and impossibles in pen. Sowing synapses-Means to end
Writing from smiles
Broken hearts to mend, eager to mind keys with a message to send

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The Love That Doesn’t Vary, or My Baby You’ll Be (text)

When I was young, my mom used to read to me. My favorite was a book that always made her cry.

Robert Munsch’s “Love You Forever”

When I open this book’s spine, my spine shoots a tremor

Because its about the kind of love that doesn’t fade, not ever

Not under a condition, not with punches, or a family who’d have it severed.

So thank you Robert Munch, thank you for the pleasure.

I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.

These were the words we read, my mother and me,

As I slipped into sleep my mothers words were sweet,

Daniel if you listening, you deserve this unconditionally,

You never deserved to be abandoned, or beat.

The story is about a mom who seemingly always finds a way

To rock her sleeping son to sleep in a beautiful display

Of the kind of love that only a mother can convey

And the love that the child will carry until God takes them away.

“I have known you were gay since you were a little boy”

then why did you berate him and scream that it’s a choice?

“If that’s the way you choose it, than that’s fine”

He didn’t choose anything, the choice was the divine’s.

It was you who told him it was wrong, you who drew the line.

I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.

 

“I have a lot of friends that are gay”

You have got to be fucking kidding.

If these friends exist, they know not of the life your are living

It’s obviously from the video who is right and who is sinning.

Abandoned and beat your son when his life was only just beginning

“Before I say any of this, I love you.”

Bullshit, I’m calling bullshit.

You don’t know what love is-

I hope your life is ruined.

And not because of the video, not because of the backlash

But because it’s too late, and you’ll never get your son back.

Well, that mother, she got older. She got older and older and older. One day she called up her son and said, “You’d better come see me because I’m very old and sick.” So her son came to see her. When he came in the door she tried to sing the song. She sang:

I’ll love you forever,
I’ll like you for always…

But she couldn’t finish because she was too old and sick. The son went to his mother. He picked her up and rocked her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And he sang this song:

I’ll love you forever,
I’ll like you for always,
As long as I’m living
my Mommy you’ll be.

 

The bible can be beautiful, depending on how you read it.

I side with science more but if there is a holy spirit

I hope that he tells Daniel, because he needs to hear it.

You are loved, you are loved, and as for your love you shouldn’t fear it.

“I am not a disgrace-you are”

Fine thing for a father to say, what a great scar to carry.

Those words will follow you to the grave, beside you when you’re buried.

I hope one day Daniel is happy, blessed be when he is married.

Surrounded by the love he deserves, the love that doesn’t vary.

When the son came home that night, he stood for a long time at the top of the stairs. Then he went into the room where his very new baby daughter was sleeping. He picked her up in his arms and very slowly rocked her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while he rocked her he sang:

I’ll love you forever,
I’ll like you for always,
As long as I’m living
my baby you’ll be.

Collecting Tickets, or The Big Road

This poem is a little more convoluted than the stuff you guys have seen from me so far. This is something out of my moleskin notebook that I didn’t share too much originally and would rather be buried with than have it seen in its entirety. I wanted to see how it would translate into spoken word and this is what happened. Hope you enjoy.

I Hit Send, or Modern Meltdown

I Hit Send, or Modern Meltdown

Steven Boyle

I obsess over a couple things.

First there’s my hair, it has to be perfect

So I mess with it until it looks like I didn’t care in the first place and then I feel like I’m worth it, maybe handsome, and with product and passion precision and painstaking plucking

I convince myself that I’m someone worth

-dating.

Then there’s my poetry. I strive for naked honesty. That’s why I changed the pronoun to he despite the fact he’d never had the hots for me.

Unreturned puppy love, a one-way street couldn’t look him in the eyes so I locked on my feet. Only to find that my shoes seemed stupid all this sudden so I retreat and they’d squeak as I took off running.

I used to wait for him by my lockers, we never really made eye contact. I’d think maybe he is maybe he isn’t but a crush overcomes that. So I’d stare at him stressing something to say, but panic that I might slip and give something away,

like that I’m corny, awkward or the fact that I’m

-a cocksucker.

Then there is text messaging. I read them over at least fifteen times before sending. Studying the sentences, surveying for subtly hoping the reader won’t figure it out or be on to me.

What if I cross the line and flirting comes fleeting from fingers that fight to write

Fuck it, I’m in love I’m in love I’m in love with you.

And hit send.

In my wildest fantasies I’m still not that strong. So I type and retype till I see nothing wrong. But it’s always wrong, so says the preacher, says kids on the bus says pale political creatures whose words of hate flood the room, microphones through the speakers.

Lucky for me I had love which goes deeper.

It took me twenty-one years to come out. I felt brave for a bit-but.

I’ve been thinking about how to tell someone I love them.

I’m better with writing than talking sometimes, and if I talk I might mess up and I can’t edit or plagiarize. It should be easier now, everyone knows I like guys,

but I freeze up as soon as I look into his

-crotch

So I’ll write a text message. I’ll say everything I need to, I’ll quote better poets than I and source links that say liking guys is as natural as green eyes or my off-hand replies and I’ll say we aren’t alone, we aren’t alone, we aren’t alone and any home is a home, type it all in my phone.

There’s surrogate mama’s, we’ll walk the down the street and ignore the

shady ha-has,

Keep up the p-p-p-p-poker face, shamelessly sing-

-Led Zepplin

Stairway to Heaven, fuck the highway to hell. I’m agnostic and its obnoxious for people to think they know us so well. It’s love it doesn’t matter which direction I feel.

so their words cannot hurt me, I’ll stand with the stones you throw- try your best to make it stick. I’m far from being bullied but my skin is still as thick. One cannot know pain until love is hit or miss, relish in the random while I rely the risk and I envy all the hetros who do not fear to take their pick

while I have to read the signs just be cause I suck

-at sports

I have never known love before but i felt my stomach do flips, I’ve know lust so intense I wanted to just quit. Makes me stare at your lips try to make you laugh from clever quips, and if your reading this-

I finally hit send.

Misconceptions of the effeminate

misconceptions of the effeminate

lets talk about how a lisp (lisp) can be a detriment, a flick of the wrist is a risk faced eminent. We say masc to assure we stood in blended and all  but more fabulous brothers get condescended upon.

I stood by,

Guilty. I mean I was. I saw anyone who was a little more fabulous get bullied by friends but never called for an end because I couldn’t yet see my own.

I saw myself as above the rest because I could hide in plain sight. I thought there was a difference in suffering-like you could pain wrong or silently pain right.

passed off that pain by pointing out someone “more gay” in sight, and i went to bed hating that part of myself every single night.

I stopped doing theatre, stop singing choir, talked about the ladies because acceptance was dire and i would have given anything to cut the pink wire and light fire to the notion that i was a faggot-

and go up like a bundle of sticks, rise from the ashes cleansed of that risk.

But hey, i’m masc right? Straight-acting torso for you to swipe right?

When I met Michael he was magnificent. The way he walks with a kind of indifference, like water off a duck’s back, like he doesn’t give a fuck that people whisper.

whereas those words would have left me broken and blistered.-

Brave He spoke his mind not just time to time like he peeled the rind to show his true fruit so sweet till he was tart sassy and damn smart but always spoke his truth

Michael played violin, he wasn’t prone to violence, weekends on fire island or breaking up the silence-see.  He was everything that Michael wanted to be when i was trying to find the beginning and end of what made me, me

In school, i had tests and quizzes, friends to lay witness to my straight acting business.

Mike, he once got stabbed with scissors, when he walked got whistles got called a girl or mrs.

I got tested once a week he got tested everyday, all because I blended when his true colors give him away. Society said walk this line, you’ll be safe if you obey, but I was never brave as Mike who simply said “make way”

I was never brave as Mike who society made pay, for being a bit more fabulous and refusing to meet half way. Twenty four years and we couldn’t made him cave

-effeminate doesn’t mean sissy, effeminate means brave.