Do you remember the sound of your laugh 
That burst from your soul as a toddler?
Mine was plucked away by my father’s gaff
For being girly; now ‘tis modular;

Did you pretend to be an animal
Crawling on all fours during your childhood?
Mother’s faux fur coat made me imaginal
As I, a polar bear, abstained manhood; 

And e’en when my body started the change,
It resisted with pubescent extreme;
One testicle grew out of normal range
And doctors devised a surgical scheme;

Still a boy, and yet seemingly less so,
I had been pushed to becoming a man;
Adults used me, encouraging my growth,
But only for labor and their sports plans;

Emotional intelligence was not
Within patriarchal curriculum;
Teenage social development was fraught
With bias to fronts of perineum;

Awkward and unsure of what I may be,
I followed the rules I had been given;
Anyone paying attention could see
Sorrow within the life I was living;

Without a completed identity,
I found home within the theatrical;
But I still lived in homogeneity
For the whole me made them hysterical;

It was fun for all when I dressed in drag
For Halloween parties hosted by friends,
But fun does not equate flying a flag,
And so my identity did not mend;

My body is male, and so I have lived
With expectations of biology;
But what if I disagree with the sieve 
That strained out ingredients within me?

How can I express the variations
That create my inner fluidity?
How can I escape others’ dictations 
Proclaiming what brings me serenity?

Attraction is not always sexual,
Nor desire based upon genitals;
Human emotion is quite flexible,
And strict role-playing is untenable;

Labels may not define me as of yet
For I need comfort, safety to explore;
Please allow me a room without a threat
So I may finally open that door.

‘Tis the topics spoken, not the manner,
For manners are separate from subject;
The verbal purpose is simple banter
To conceal our society’s judgement;
Curiosity be damned in staged dances,
Rehearsed from our earliest memory;
Ruling rhetoric may ruin chances
To engage our partners with empathy;
Each gesture has duplicitous meaning
For directness is considered obscene;
Angelic voices, forked tongues are seething
To judge you less than, unworthy, unclean;
Polite conversation, put politely,
Is an elitist’s vain vulgarity.

Human condition can be lost at sea
As the satellite's waves bounce to and fro;
The ocean fills with new technology
As plastic islands continue to grow.
We think we travel at the speed of light
But mostly we stay within our four walls;
Little screens take away our humane sight
Until we trip over our cords and fall.
It's true that good may come from a Star Trek
Future illuminated by buttons;
But we are at the stage in which the tech
Has made so many of us a glutton.
Turn to your neighbor and enjoy a chat
And see where your humanity is at.

Nature shall provide,
Its beauty shall propagate,
Balanced shall we be;
Respectful community
Shall coexist peacefully. 

A general’s heart, arms of a private
(The only rank one is allowed to be),
Launching dreams of Lost Boys fighting pirates,
Flying through the sky and sailing the seas;
Yet, in the grounded life as laborer,
One is thrust to where unkindness has grown,
With state’s affairs becoming the neighbors’,
Thoughts are no longer confined to one’s home;
To survive infiltrations of mined minds,
One must denounce all indoctrinations,
Such metamorphosis may be aligned
With enlightenment and graceful patience;
Whether saint, sinner, deity, demon,
Reasonableness requires no reason.

Departure began
at the lethargic ending
to confused journeys;
Connections lazily made
dissolved all liquidity

Parched? Drink from thine well.
Chilled? Sit beside thine campfire.
Hungry? Eat thine spoils.
Lonesome? Love thyself truly.
Death is Life's one true partner.

Couples pass me by,
tethered to reality
known only to them;
My soul soars beyond constraints
and finds peace within quiet

Creator, make a companion for me;
I follow not a predetermined path.
My soul breathes, yet I suffocate and see
Poisonous air filled by the humans' wrath.
And so I beseech you to acquire parts
To produce a masterpiece - perfection;
Combine beauty, compassion, and the arts,
All which shall inspire my affection.
With a surgeon's hands you shall cut and sew
As each piece adds to the masterful whole;
Once finished, this unique creature will know
My love, my adoration, and my soul.
Companionship is what I desire
For my soul yearns for what my heart requires.

Conceded into assimilation,
I was content with my new apathy.
When distracted with new stimulation,
Rulers yearned to change the rules over me.
It was my time and I needed to act
To fight for me, for us, for tomorrow.
We fought to keep all worker rights intact,
But we lost, leaving us only sorrow.
Blissfully woeful citizens voted
For the changes in the lives of others;
Killing civil liberties, they gloated
While destroying the lives of their brothers.
Maliciousness and ignorance had won
For those deemed worthy, the Fortunate Son.

The Medusa from Greek mythology
Has many journeys, yet none set in stone;
Of course, the tale is taught in history,
But how it resonates is lesser known.
Her life can indeed be seen as tragic,
But not only for snakes upon her head;
For some gods have used their gift of magic
To force certain women into their bed.
Jealousy and anger by another
Prompted a curse upon this innocent;
She was then cast aside as an "other"
Due to the metamorphosis gods sent.
Do not shame her, but instead send her love
And together we shall all rise above.

With glazed-over eyes, saliva dripping,
Zombies have honed their ravenous focus;
Bags filled with chemicals, they are ripping
As their brains become seasoned snacks for us.

We, the infected, are those who infect,
Spreading the shimmery serotonin;
Bodies, souls we continue to dissect
As we idolize ourselves as Ronin.

But truly we have masters who order
Even if not by the hilltop they yell;
Earworms are whispered upon recorders,
Gently commanding to boldly buy, sell.

“Praise Jesus!” has been shouted on corners
As searches for Judas become the norm;
Golden Rules do not apply, “foreigners,”
For your beliefs are not zombie-born. 

Some Lords have adopted Thor and Odin
In pursuit of all realms’ domination,
Banishing monsters not found from within,
Rather those seen as abominations.
  
And in this system of sacred beliefs,
Loki truly is deemed the banned brother
For these master manipulators grieve
That Loki gave birth, making him mother. 

Do not fret, monster wranglers and zombie
Masters-to-be; there is an antidote
For what doubters and witnesses do see
As judgement passes upon blemished notes.

Distracting zombies, now more than ever,
Is a cascade of explosive colors;
They shall flock to the Masters’ endeavor
Walking, crawling over one another.

Long gone are the days of indigenous
Stewards of lands from which life was revered;
Long gone are days of nature’s pristineness
For our bonds with the Earth have been severed.

We live in a zombie apocalypse
From our own design and execution;
To regain our communal synapses
We all must bestow our allocution.    

From immortals and deities fighting 
To the ancient warfare and feudal wars
A right of conquest was then in writing 
And the doctrine of discovery born;

From regions to countries to nation states
Borders were drawn upon imperfect maps;
But then colonialism breeds hate
And all sovereignty begins to collapse;

From gold, diamonds, ivory and spices
To oil, fur, and all that is extracted;
And when supremacism entices 
Genocide, slavery are enacted;

From the ships that sailed across the ocean
To the plantations and then Jim Crow laws;
The Civil Rights Movement locomotion
Was later derailed by a SCOTUS flawed; 

From Eve to Lady Liberty to Roe,
There has been a recurring narrative;
We shall lift women up to a plateau
Just to make their symbols pejorative;

From misogyny and patriarchy 
To (il)legally enforcing constrictions;  
Men create contracted captivity,
With evil ignoring age restrictions;

From Boomers destroying society
To Tech Bros steering us towards the end,
The rich aim to annihilate you, me
And deny our communities to mend;

To cycles of greed and narcissism,
To the abuses we keep enduring,
There are hints of collective optimism
With the next generation maturing;

To those who hold on to a past long gone,
To those who see themselves above the rest;
Let your Earthly ambitions wane on
And put your religious beliefs to the test.

There I was online, minding my own business
When the algorithm gods made me a witness,
Hoping to provide me with something delicious
But then I whisper, “Don’t show me that.”

Some days, I want to experience the life of fitness
While adding the recipes that are called nutritious,
But then the AG share some horrible sickness
And I yell out, “Don’t show me that!”

I will delve into the stories that everyone knows
Sharing with each other so the zeitgeist grows
But then AG inserts something from the Tech Bros
So, I angrily say, “Don’t show me that!”

We all could use a good dose of natural serotonin
But then I will end up online for a boost of endorphins
And then the AG tries to induce me with artificial oxytocin
At which I cry, “Don’t show me that.”

I am trying to enjoy Arts, advocacy and the news
But the AG will tell me who they think should lose
While pushing me towards a life they shall choose
And I tiredly whimper, “Don’t show me that.”

But do not think humanity has outlived its merit
For it is a value that even the AG can not parrot,
It is an essence billionaires will never inherit
And so, they all plead, “Show us that!”

They have said that thick thighs save lives
And yet, despite all the good for which they strive
The fabric that covers them will meet its demise
Creating the inevitable hole in the crotch

My mighty tree trunks groan from dense leg muscles,
Or perhaps it is the fatty insides creating the struggle,
Either way, the friction ultimately burns a tunnel
That opens up the hole in the crotch

Please do not follow me as I walk up the stairs
For my jeans have made me painfully aware
Of the unintended ventilation down there
Due to yet another hole in the crotch

I bend every which way, trying to be a good worker
Stretching beyond the efforts of a common shirker
But as I hear the ripping, I soon become a lurker
Trying to subtly look at the hole in my crotch

The chemicals at work also do some damage
Eating away down there (better than I can manage),
And as loosening agents, they create a passage
That broadens the hole in my crotch

One would think manufacturers could protect the seams
Securing the vulnerable spot by any corporate means
And yet, within every pair of my hard-earned jeans
There has always been a hole in the crotch

I do my best to fix the jeans’ unfortunate condition
By sewing the part created by the fabric’s sedition,
But I certainly do not claim to be a sewing magician
And within a week, it returns: the hole in the crotch