Some Poems

Hey All,

Since the forum is closing, I thought I might as well share some poems I wrote about the struggle of identifying as a pedophile in our society. Read/Comment/Share. (<-- You don't have to do any of those things, but you're welcome to!) The part about Florida is made up. I've never been to Florida. Hope you enjoy!

Youth Oriented (YO)

1. Music From One Of Society’s Trenches

This is the song of a clanking trumpet
Dropped on the slick linoleum
By a boy whose aching, trembling hands,
Whose numb, pursed lips, not yet a man’s,
Grew sick of hiding in an orchestra pit
With no conductor on the podium.

This is the song of the creaking stairs
Leading him upwards to the stage—
The stage where he’s seen his brothers caught,
Hanged, cursed, beaten, jailed, and shot,
Victims of their own bodies’ snares
And a crowd whose greatest love is outrage.

This is the song of his beating heart
As it tells him to run from the plans it heard,
As it lives in darkness and knows no lies,
As it balls his fists like dough that will rise,
As it buckles his knees before he can start,
As it holds his jaw and says, “Not a word.”

This is the song that his sore feet tell
As, hearing his brother in an infant’s cry,
He returns to the orchestra pit he left,
Whispers a prayer on disheartened breath,
Takes his trumpet by its mangled bell
And begins to play a lullaby.


2. Lullaby W/ Imagined Audience

Hush now, my little one. Rest in my arms.
Now and forever I’ll keep you from harm.
Off in the jungle, the tigers chase lizards,
Locked in your books, the pirates fight wizards,
Far, far away are volcanoes and blizzards,
But here in our house you are safe.

Hush now, my little one. I’ll sing you to sleep.
Soft are the clouds drifting over the sheep.
Swift is the river that blankets the rocks,
Cool is the water that burbles and drops,
Kind is the shepherd who watches the flocks,
Guarding and keeping them safe.

Hush now, my little one. Rest your tired eyes.
Drift in the dark of the sea and the skies.
Swim with the stars all twinkling at night,
Climb to the moon and turn off its light,
Dream of impossible worlds without fright,
For I will be keeping you safe.


3. The Monster In The Closet

The small green study molted stacks of paper,
Reference books and whiteboard calendars.
The desk and chair remained, but seemed too proper,
Too neutral for a six year old. My cars
Skidded on its surface, burned out, crashed,
Exploded into flames. My stuffed dog ruined
Important mail. He said the move was rushed.
But soon, my bed, too, left my brother’s room.

My new room had a monster in its closet.
Cobwebs in its corners. A little fleet
Of staples had been absorbed into the carpet
And stung the tender arches of my feet.
“The closet,” I told my mom, “it cries and howls—”
Darling, we don’t let monsters in this house.


4. The Monster In The Closet (Revisited)

At twelve, I reached to a shelf in the closet
Where all of my yearbooks stood in a row.
My friends had crushes, but I didn’t know
If I could feel love. I wondered what caused it.

Whose face could ignite an idle heart?
As I looked at photos from the previous year,
Waiting for something—some spark to appear,
I paused at Hannah, my passion’s start.

Her eyes gave a softer glance than my own,
Her smile was sweet as strawberries and cream,
Her hair was like sunlight cast on a stream.
But even that year, it seemed she had grown.

As I searched for her name in the older books,
I took in my hands the hand I’d been dealt,
Haunted by the quickening years as I felt
Drawn more and more to her younger looks.


5. When The Air Looks Like Glass

Like glass, I could be almost anywhere.
As children chase wild ducks by an icy lake,
In fear they beat their wings and climb the air.

I snap a photo—not of soft blowing hair
But swift feathers. But please, make no mistake;
Like glass, I could be almost anywhere.

Some parents find a nanny or a day care,
An aviary so they won’t escape.
In fear they clip their wings and tell the air

To go away. Or stay in place. Or disappear.
It answers, “Your aviary, for goodness sake,
Is glass.” It could be. Almost anywhere

You go, you find that workers, too, will stare
At birds or hold out bread for them to take,
Fearing they’ll beat their wings and climb the air.

And when you throw a punch at me, be aware,
It’s in your mind, when I appear to break
Like glass. I could be almost anywhere.
In fear I’ll beat my wings and climb the air.


6. Let Me Tell You Something

We had a cat named Mystery,
And she was alright.
We called her that because her coat
Was black, and her feet were white.
And like a proper mystery,
She kept us up all night.

We had a cat named Mystery,
And she could catch a mouse.
And she could catch canaries, too,
And drag ‘em to our house.
And like a proper mystery,
She never took a spouse.

We had a cat named Mystery,
And she was just too good
At hunting songbirds – she shut up
The entire neighborhood!
And like a proper mystery,
She never understood.

We had a cat named Mystery,
And she was kept inside.
And one day she got awful sick
And, feet still white, she died.
And like a proper mystery,
She never even cried.


7. It Gets Better (Some Restrictions May Apply)

Sitting in a dorm room in by Lake Alice,
A Gators poster on my wall, an essay
On Fatalism due in twenty hours
(barely sketched), and a front of frost advancing
Along the window’s face, I opened up
A handle of Bacardi Gold, and breathed
A sigh of thanks, because the walls I’d built
To guard my stigma soon would melt away.

I haven’t had enough until I’ve puked
And flickered out. I figured out the hard way
Not to email drunk. (Professors hate it.)
I’ve told friends drunk that I find kids attractive.
(They hope I don’t remember.) An activist
Once told me, “No, you pedophiles aren’t Queer.”

The essay wrote itself.


8. Hide And Seek

I’ll hide. You seek. I’m in the light,
Running through grass in sheer delight.
You’re in the dark. Count 1… 2… 3…
Calculating at the base of a tree.

You’re stuck in place. 14… 15…
Denied the vibrant colors I’ve seen.
I get to know the world anew;
Where would I look if I were you?

I hide myself in the cleft of a rock,
With shadows acting as my lock.
You still can’t see. 39… 40…
Where would you hide if you were me?

Your counting speeds up as you age.
The dark is closing in like a cage.
As I hide, I try to slow my breath.
I calm myself near to the point of death.

I am the prey. I am clean and pure,
But you are unclean – the predator.
“Unclean! Unclean!” You seem to shout.
“Come out wherever you are! Come out!”


9. A Burden Lighter Than A Pall

Sister, all my life I’ve shared with you.
We shared our birthday cakes, our mother’s kisses,
Our father’s Track & Field demands, our wishes
Upon the stars, our hymnals in the pew,

Our skin which darkened in the summer sun
And lightened in the school year, our firm fear
Of dogs, our chickenpox, our natural ear
For music, and our bedtime when day was done.

So, when I turned the radio off and swore
I’d never let you leave your kids with me,
It must have seemed a little bit uncalled-for.
You said they’d love their uncle, wait and see.

But when I spoke the words I couldn’t reverse—
Your station wagon darkened like a hearse.


10. Disoriented And Reoriented

In dreams, I love without emotional restraint.

In fantasies, I feel my lover’s breath so faintly.

When writing, I can break my feelings into words.

With friends who know, I breathe and feel I’m safe, at home.

When praying in my church, I know God knows my heart.

When biking through green countrysides, I say it aloud.

When hearing media stereotypes… I shrink inside.

One of these has lost all credibility with me.