Gay

Note: The following is a poem I found on a website geared to gay and lesbian youth that I liked very much way back in 1996. As I have started rebuilding the blog, I want to include them. I tried unsuccessfully to contact the poets for their permission. If this is your poem, I would love to hear from you.
"G a y" by Evgeny
(it's also name of the boy to whom I wrote this poem).


It's happening just sometimes,
It's happening from the dreams!
You meeting somebody nice,
That you don't want to loose him.
But you loosing him any way,
You can't do anything more.
Any miracle, any chance,
Will not help you to get him for more.
This not tale, this really life,
True life, with hope and shock.
This can put big knife to your heart,
And destroy him so quickly for all.

Passive Sage

Note: The following is a poem I found on a website geared to gay and lesbian youth that I liked very much way back in 1996. As I have started rebuilding the blog, I want to include them. I tried unsuccessfully to contact the poets for their permission. If this is your poem, I would love to hear from you.
Passive Sage by Roland Thrower

I've been different all my life
yet I've never picked up a knife

I walk naked for the world to see
the person who is really me

They may stare and wonder why
why mustn't he not die!?

I see their bludgeoning words, hit my skin
for I can do little to defend

I have no armor to protect
Nothing but my intellect

Sometimes I wonder: why go on?--
Because of the morning Sun

As I knell down to pray,
Not the ordinary way

I ask for them to understand
I just want to be their friend

Unreachable

Note: The following is a poem I found on a website geared to gay and lesbian youth that I liked very much way back in 1996. As I have started rebuilding the blog, I want to include them. I tried unsuccessfully to contact the poets for their permission. If this is your poem, I would love to hear from you.
unreachable by Danielle

reach out your hand slowly, not quite aware
moving quickly you surly wouldn't dare
slowly growing closer to the fire
we can no longer contain our desire
the kids in the halls are starting to wonder
your feelings and actions are pushing you under
into their world of harsh words and hate
any kind of hell that they could create
your eyes are cloudy and your mind confused
your body is weak and weary, your feeling used
i feel great sorrow when i think of you
we are both alone and scared... not knowing what to do
when i am with you my troubles melt away
but because of our surroundings our feelings must be put on delay
so sit across the room and smile from a distance
until it is safe to stop this harmful, fake resistance

Broken and Memorabilia

Note: The following are two of a series of poems I found on a website geared to gay and lesbian youth that I liked very much way back in 1996. As I have started rebuilding the blog, I want to include them. I tried unsuccessfully to contact the poets for their permission. If this is your poem, I would love to hear from you.
Broken by oyster

Your name never spoken my heart lie still and broken.
You never gave me a chance to live,
all you ever wanted from me was to give.
You took my life, you took my gain,
you gave me grief, you gave me pain.
Soon will come one painful day,
a day you will see, a day you will pay.
mailto:tiny@intermind.net


Memorabilia by oyster

As I search through this old box
of old things, and old hearts,
I remember that time of brand new starts.
That time when I believed even magic to be true,
when destiny controlled my life, my fate, and perhaps you.
I see the pictures of smiling faces,
happy people and far away places.
But back to the present my wondering mind drifts,
and the memories of this old box fall back through the rifts.

Sometimes

Note: The following is a poem I found on a website geared to gay and lesbian youth that I liked very much way back in 1996. As I have started rebuilding the blog, I want to include them. The lack of capitalization is intentional.  I tried unsuccessfully to contact the poets for their permission. If this is your poem, I would love to hear from you.
sometimes by Earl age 16

i understand sometimes but,
why when i don't everyone else does?

my friends sometimes tell me,
i'm blind to what people do to me, sometimes.

but there was one time,
i can remember that someone made me feel loved.

this is a sometime that i'll never forget
i sometimes wish this time was all the time.

this may have only happened one time,
but at least it happened sometime.

Closet

Note: The following is a poem I found on a website geared to gay and lesbian youth that I liked very much way back in 1996. As I have started rebuilding the blog, I want to include them. I tried unsuccessfully to contact the poets for their permission. If this is your poem, I would love to hear from you.
Closet
by Jennifer, age 18

Its callused fingers, numb to any feeling,
tighten around my neck.
Squeezing, squeezing, squeezing,
choking every bit of myself out of me
draining my heart dry.
Drip, drip, drip.
Its darkness envelopes my life,
ruins my eyes,
beats my mind,
keeps me from seeing what I
want to see.
I can't see my life
leaving me,
but I feel it dying.
The darkness cannot take away
my feelings. I try to open the
door--to let some light in, but
if I'm not bold,
I can't. I have to be bold.
I'm not bold.
Desperate, desperate, desperate.
I need the light.
I gag on my own tongue,
with these murdering fingers,
fingers of darkness,
choking fingers.
Let go, let go, let go.

The Secret

Note: The following is a poem I found on a website geared to gay and lesbian youth that I liked very much way back in 1996. As I have started rebuilding the blog, I want to include them. I tried unsuccessfully to contact the poets for their permission. If this is your poem, I would love to hear from you.
The Secret
by A 16-year-old Lesbian

I look into my mother's eyes and
Swallow, guarding my best kept secret.
I feel it pushing against me,
Searching for a way out and
Bruising the walls that confine it, yet
I am afraid to let go.
As I run from the sadness I know
It would cause her, I
Stumble over my own emotions.
I look into my mother's eyes and
Swallow, guarding my best kept
Secret.

Homecoming Queen

Note: The following is a poem I found on a website geared to gay and lesbian youth that I liked very much way back in 1996. As I have started rebuilding the blog, I want to include them. I tried unsuccessfully to contact the poets for their permission. If this is your poem, I would love to hear from you.
Homecoming Queen by Frank, age 18 Sophomore at LSU

Put on a smile for the little
Bitches in the graveyard.
Let them talk on the phone,
Drive down the road to Jesus,
In Daddy's BMW.
There's so much to be said
For the pretty ones, the smart
Ones, the saintly ones.
Let her suck dick
To make the Good Son smile.
Drive down your little road,
Say hello to the Bugle Boy and his jeans
Before they open up your Pearled Gate.
Not much left to be said
For the older ones, the fatter ones,
The pregnant ones, the Homecoming Queen.
Let her know men,
To make Jesus blush in his P.J.'s
Ride your little storm girl
Say goodbye to that "cruel world"
No one's around now to talk
About the sagging ones, the
Trailer Park ones, the Wal-mart ones.
Maybe, Baby, that's what you get
For being a the good little Homecoming Queen.

Untitled Poem By Holly

Note: The following is a poem I found on a website geared to gay and lesbian youth that I liked very much way back in 1996. As I have started rebuilding the blog, I want to include it. I tried unsuccessfully to contact the poet for her permission. If this is your poem, I would love to hear from you.
Holly, age 16

"If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.."
those good little people in my proper little honors classes-
they never hurt your feelings, their mother taught them

"Treat other's like you want them to treat you.."
The teacher's strict rules in class, it will not be tolerated
for you to put someone down

Yes, they are good and proper
they tuck their shirts in, and are
cool

"fag!" that popular one grins, you know the one..
grins at his best friend
who is, of course, not a "fag"
never will be, of course, (it's a choice)

the teacher smiles, the teacher is very
cool
himself, you know the teachers
that think it is funny to say "fag"

They do not put anyone down
They do not say anything not nice
they do not know I am here
Or, do not know who I am
what I am

They don't know that one out of ten
Ha! The class reunion will be fun
of us are
"fags"
He doesn't know that his best friend is
His best friend doesn't even know.

Cupid’s Ultimate Mistake

Note: The following is a poem I found on a website geared to gay and lesbian youth that I liked very much way back in 1996. As I have started rebuilding the blog, I want to include them. I tried unsuccessfully to contact the poets for their permission. If this is your poem, I would love to hear from you.
Cupid's Ultimate Mistake by Mike

Eros in all of his stupidity
Shot the wrong arrow into my poor heart
Misdirecting all my cupidity
Limiting my chances right from the start
I've alienated some of my friends
Because of Cupid's sad misadventure
And caused more wounds than I can ever mend
I wish I was free of this sad censure
It seems to me now I can only mope
Because all my chances for love are poor
But I don't want to be a misanthrope
For I'm bound to find love in the future
I blame my problems on Cupid's dumb stunt
If I ever find him, I'll kill the runt