Faggot? Bitch, is that directed to me?

I am more than what you see.
I am time-none wasted … yet not free….
I paid the price, and then some just to be me.
I am more than the words you say.
I am not just a fag- more than men kissing or women holding hands.
Words are their weapon- does it ever stop? I take a stand.

I am more than just the naps and curls of my hair.
I am more than the waive – sometimes too stubborn to stay.
More than the wrinkles on my face from – wear and tear.
Not just an age but a life lived with love and distrust.

I am not just a spic, the color of my skin.
There is still more, so much more within.

I’m more than the fields that darkened my skin.

More than the pickings, that bring you your food. Go ahead, shovel it in.

If you open your mind and shut your fucking mouth,
Perhaps you would taste delights of kindness, love and warmth from my soul.

Man-na, manna, mann-a. Not from the Ash or Tamarisk tree.
From me. From little ol’ gay me.
I am more than spirit this skin cannot contain.
I was hurt, abandoned- powders, remove that needle in my vein.

I am more than the arch of my sculpted eyebrow.
Look there…. past the brown of iris,
In the black wells of my pupils; there is more.

Still much more within.

I am more than my big round lips and more than any style.
I am more than sex- perhaps you stay, talk or fornicate a little while?
I am joy, God’s thread divine and an everlasting mile.

I am not for you…for someone’s hateful eyes to see.

I am more than this. I am more than that.

I am more than art…
More than the sum of each body part.
Not just genitalia; you wonder what I do.


I am a man, a pretty one with beauty –go ahead and adore.
I am love and sadly I am hate.
I am words and silence…..I’ve been disgrace.
All these things- do you hear me? Is what I am.
Yet, I’m not broken. I get up to walk fingering heaven’s gate.

Brother and Uncle….. a son am I.
I am a bitch, a crutch, a fem a butch, a son of a bitch and more.
I am strong and soft.
A long embrace.
I am shame, abused- do I belong in this place?

I more than a poem, words on a page.
My facets don’t fit in a picture- not as short as a sonnet or song.

My body is mine to do what I like.
I am not bound by your unjust laws. I’m not in a corset, or I’d burst at each seam.
I am a light, been in darkness and still I’m the sun’s beam.

I am strong. I am here. I am evidence of words and your actions.
I belong. I belong here. I belong there.
I am a teacher, I am a learner..a dancer – a muse.
A bow, pivot a pirouette or two.

I am cells, a beating heart and a breath of fresh air.
I wish you could see me. For I am here.
I am not just a fagot, a bitch or simply a queer.

I am fat and sometimes thin. It is my body- I can fluctuate –I’ve been.
I am modest and a slut, a Christian and more.
The lip balms and gloss that remains on the wine glass I wore.
But I’m no longer a secret, a private dancer, or someone’s whore.

I’m a friend and alone… my heart pours and it spills.
I can be a couple, single… but alone I’ve had to soar.
I am forgiven for the things I have done. Forgiven for the words I write.
(Un)Forgiven are the words you say. (Un)Forgiven things said in spite.

I wish you could see me – your eyes dart they pass.
I am a lover, a fighter – no longer a victim of circumstance.
I don’t know if you will hear me, see me but maybe I can love you from afar?
“(Un)Forgiven”, said the sum of all these parts.

Faggot? Yes, I am. That’s some of the best parts of me.