Transexual

He hears the rain, the raging storm within him.

The sting, the hurtful condescension.

There are those who will never comprehend

the fact that not everyone is alike.

He mourns his forlorn body, his heart so tattered and torn.

He aches to be rid of this skin

that suffocates him

like an ill fitting suit of flesh.

He needs to be free of this cruel unjust name.

In his dream, his body decays while

his skin disintegrates and crumbles from his form.     

Beneath this all, he is feminine and free.      

Stepping out of his skin to let the world see

that labels are meant only for packages, and the like.

He closes his eyes, floating and free,

glorious in all his finery.

He wakes to the fact

that he still inhabits his masculine body.

With horror he realizes the fact

that it was all an earth shattering dream,

and that he will forever more linger in hell.

Me

Dreams are the foundation of creativity.

My entire life has been in preparation for the mind altering

truth I hold in my hands.

The state of my being rests entirely on me.

On this planet there is no one exclusively like me.

Everything in its entirety that comes out of me is genuinely me

because I alone chose it.

I own every thing about my own image.  

My body, my voice, my own thoughts and philosophy;

my essence and my way of thinking.

 My life belongs to no one other than myself.

I own my own imaginative powers, anticipation,

optimism, reservations and  accomplishments.

I own all my pride, successes, all my disappointments and mistakes.

I own me and consequently I can convince myself that

 I am me and I’m okay.

What Gives Us The Right

They resembled something from an enchanted folk story

But as they aged, they comprehended that

eternal silence and a life without love would be the norm

The moon beckoned to them from its silver platter

impulsively calling and gesturing to them

They had inherently realized 

that they would forever be shunned by society

and knew that they had come to the closing stages of their lives.

What gives us the right to hurl obscenities

at someone whom is the slightest bit dissimilar to us

We yell abuse at Blacks, Christians, Jews and Gays

for something they did not intrinsically choose to be

We say they have precipitated a crime

yet I see no transgression has been committed whatsoever

Prejudice, it is totally illogical and makes no sense at all

Sometimes we are far too small minded for our own consciousness

For how could someone be excluded for

being born into something that they have no control over

How could we as human beings be so

 fanatically small minded

of anyone that is unlike us

What Does It Matter

Would you risk looking like a fool for the love of your dream and

to fill the empty spaces of your heart, vacant crevices of your soul

re adventures of being aliveeep around for a fool

As long as you can gaze in the mirror and like what you see

and realize that inner beauty is as brilliant as a full moon

shining on an empty meadow

What does it matter how many possessions you accumulate

you can’t take them with when you breath your last breathe

What does it matter how many countless friends you have

As long as they encompass quality

 and get pleasure from the adventures of being alive.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself

And if you truly like your own company

In the empty moments of your life



Mournful Eyes

Behind his eyes lies murky water

Full of bliss, now a chasm of torture

A wasteland, parched, a sea of sand

Exultant once, walked hand in hand

Behind his eyes now misplaced plans

Eyes once piercing, full of desire

Beauty now grief, dim as a mire

He challenges the pain of being

Dejection, walks devoid, not seeing

Fitting In

We are but pieces of a puzzle

How do we fit in?

Not knowing our contour or form

We glide in imperceptibly

Do we really belong?

In this place called the universe

The conventional do

Atypical cannot

We are inundated

With the depraved

The invisible

The wicked among us

No scruples

These are the snakes that slither in

Who do not have a conscience?

Disintegration of humanity

Wasted Time

Solitude

He sits on a bench

Waiting to die

The death sentence has been given

No one knows how long

Breathe, breath, lungs full of air

In actuality, he had never really looked

Wasted time. Drugs, hallucinations

Crying. For what may well have been

Don’t look back. The present is all he has

Enjoy, despite the fact that he will be taken

Gay

With masculinity and femininity he walked hand in hand

solitary thought pervading his brain

He was mortified that the truth be known

Shivering and shaking, his brain totally detached

He grasped the fact that

The truth will take a definitive path

Releasing his thoughts to the wind and the sky

His feminine side gloriously prevailed