Fuck Yeah Queer Poetry!

What a great way to end the day,
Dying in a big pile of gay.
Baron Samedi wears a frock coat plus an actual frock
Plus a big long skirt to cover his big feathery …

Getting back to the big pile of gay…
A perfect concept in every way.
What’s the magic number
To ensure that there is no slumber?

Two is too little
Three is uneven
Four becomes two x two
Eight becomes two x four

One is lonely.

Zeven is awkwark
Six est lunatique
9.81 might be anatomically accurate but…
Ten ist spleenig!

We are the pioneers of the big pile of gay
Under the influence of la fée,
La fée verte which addles your memory
So we can’t quite remember but maybe there’s jelly.

genderqueer:

Submitted anonymously:

In my mind’s eye

I can peel back the skin,

The layers of fat and muscle and tissue and fat, fat, fat.

I peel off one breast, then the other

I scrape off a thigh, and then a hip,

And throw them far away from me.

I rub and run my hands up and down my body

Which is now smooth and raw and flat,

Now! A perfect pearl in the ocean!

(I am not a boy,

But I should have been one)

irememberstonewall:

It’s not easy you know, being faced with a wall of silence,

As voices crash and bound around you.

It’s not normal for you, to speak and have no-one listen,

Like a child whispering into a storm.

It pulls me down you know, when your ignorance

makes my difference so fucking clear.

It makes me cry as well, when YOU place a chip on my shoulder

“It’s no big deal, just a joke.”

Think for a second, how it might feel;

To be surrounded by people close to you,

But at the same feel so fucking isolated.

It’s not our decision to put up these walls:

We can’t ascend alone.

You may see through them, but to us they are cast iron.

You may offer us a window,

But take it away as you please.

Liberation is what we crave, but all you need to do for us is listen.

So take your ego down

From the plinth of epistemic bliss.

We are oppressed, just like you.

Just take a moment to notice.