unpublished poem by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]
12/27/10
Figure me out!
It's not that hard
To remove the bandages
covering those scars
Now ask about!
Even if it's not clear
Where they came from
And why they're still here
Get into my head!
You know you want to
so don't play around
Or I will taunt you
Don't hesitate!
Can't you see?
I want you to understand
What I really need
Don't fight the urge!
I won't mind
The questions you ask
Or the answers you'll find
Break the skin!
Keep probing till you get
What you're looking for
Or til I forget
Give a push!
Don't stop in your tracks
You're on a roll
So don't look back
Open my mouth!
If it won't budge
To find out how
In the past I've loved
Follow me!
And I'll show you a way
To my darkest room
Down decaying hallways
Push me harder!
If I try to resist
When you ask me questions
That just get me pissed
Don't leave me alone!
'Cause you'll never hear
How I came so close
To living in fear
Rape my seanses!
I will oblige
Now it's up to you
To figure out why
Showing posts with label sexuality and gender. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sexuality and gender. Show all posts
Friday, January 21, 2011
That..........Tranny boy!?: Gotti
unpublished writing by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]
11/2010
I would say after three years of becoming acquainted with the "gay world" I found myself becoming one of those "over-relationships-gays" because of the past three unsuccessful relationships I'd had. I wish I could give more of an explanation other than all three of them cheated on me and cared nothing of my interests except my interest and weakness for sex......so I put intimate romance on the bottom of the totem pole.
After a year I managed to shun men completely because it was obvious to me there were no men around who could provoke and stir feelings of magnetism. So one day after having a very stressful thirty minutes of "job searching".........I spent the rest of that day smoking weed and writing in my sketchbooks at Glen Park and just like a "pot-head" who gets too high...I passed out... into a coma. When I finally opened my eyes there was this red-headed boy with a red beard sitting on the bench next to me reading through my sketch-books!?! I jumped up irate and purely pissed demanding to know why he was reading my "shit". "your very hard to miss passed out on a beach with hot pink vans on during the middle of the day" he said, and at that point I couldn't even respond just look at him in complete surreal awe, but as I was transfixed I relaized just how handsome he was.....his eyes were so angelic with their green glow and his lips were pink as BUBBLE GUM. "anyway" he continued...."since you decide to be a sitting duck from some of San Francisco's not-so gentleman like characters. I took it upon myself to be your body guard and watch out for your dumb-ass....no payment requirement just a look into your soul...which by the way is so beautifully tortured" he was talking about my sketchbooks and as soon as he said it..my heart did something it had not done in an entire year....it was pounding immensely. Hist personality was scary to me because it reeked of empathy. And his cool way of expressing himself so elegant I thought I was on some new "trip" off weed. "It takes someone with a special kind of heart to write about the things you do" I couldn't believe what I was heard and I was falling so hard in love right there on that Glen park bench. He got up and said "my name is Ashton" Isaac" I say a little dryly." well Isaac I'll be on my way...try not to pass out on benches in parks, you're not in Kansas anymore they will think your some tweaked out little Twinkie who can't stay sober for longer than three minutes". I couldn't stop thinking to myself..."what the fuck kind of movie scene shit is this" as he was walking away I couldn't let my new found preince go without at least getting his number... this guy who had me swooning like a little bitch "DUDE!!!...ASHTON.....CAN I GET YOUR NUMBER!?" as he walked away he said "my cell number is on the napkin inside your book" he winked and kept walking. I pulled out a Starbucks napkin and on the piece of napkin it read
TO: The streange "Emo" boy I watched sleep on the Bench at Glen Park......Because he looked so damn cute with his face shoved in a sketchbook"
FROM: The Red-Head "tyranny" boy
I looked up and my mouth dropped....that sexy ass, green eyed Spartan was...............a tyranny boy!? All of that what I was feeling that day was sparked by.."That tranny Boy!!!!???"
I mean I was thinking how significant is a dick anyway? It gets in the way when you try to sleep on your stomach, it has a mind of its own when you can't control your hormones any longer, and too much emphasis is placed on its size and girth.....all I knew was Ashton the red-head tranny boy opened my eyes to an entirely different realm of feeling....I was excited and it was because of Ashton I accepted all tranny boys as real boys and why i love them so much. Because of ................................."That Tranny Boy"
-Isaac
-Gotti
*typos and capitalization are [sic]
11/2010
I would say after three years of becoming acquainted with the "gay world" I found myself becoming one of those "over-relationships-gays" because of the past three unsuccessful relationships I'd had. I wish I could give more of an explanation other than all three of them cheated on me and cared nothing of my interests except my interest and weakness for sex......so I put intimate romance on the bottom of the totem pole.
After a year I managed to shun men completely because it was obvious to me there were no men around who could provoke and stir feelings of magnetism. So one day after having a very stressful thirty minutes of "job searching".........I spent the rest of that day smoking weed and writing in my sketchbooks at Glen Park and just like a "pot-head" who gets too high...I passed out... into a coma. When I finally opened my eyes there was this red-headed boy with a red beard sitting on the bench next to me reading through my sketch-books!?! I jumped up irate and purely pissed demanding to know why he was reading my "shit". "your very hard to miss passed out on a beach with hot pink vans on during the middle of the day" he said, and at that point I couldn't even respond just look at him in complete surreal awe, but as I was transfixed I relaized just how handsome he was.....his eyes were so angelic with their green glow and his lips were pink as BUBBLE GUM. "anyway" he continued...."since you decide to be a sitting duck from some of San Francisco's not-so gentleman like characters. I took it upon myself to be your body guard and watch out for your dumb-ass....no payment requirement just a look into your soul...which by the way is so beautifully tortured" he was talking about my sketchbooks and as soon as he said it..my heart did something it had not done in an entire year....it was pounding immensely. Hist personality was scary to me because it reeked of empathy. And his cool way of expressing himself so elegant I thought I was on some new "trip" off weed. "It takes someone with a special kind of heart to write about the things you do" I couldn't believe what I was heard and I was falling so hard in love right there on that Glen park bench. He got up and said "my name is Ashton" Isaac" I say a little dryly." well Isaac I'll be on my way...try not to pass out on benches in parks, you're not in Kansas anymore they will think your some tweaked out little Twinkie who can't stay sober for longer than three minutes". I couldn't stop thinking to myself..."what the fuck kind of movie scene shit is this" as he was walking away I couldn't let my new found preince go without at least getting his number... this guy who had me swooning like a little bitch "DUDE!!!...ASHTON.....CAN I GET YOUR NUMBER!?" as he walked away he said "my cell number is on the napkin inside your book" he winked and kept walking. I pulled out a Starbucks napkin and on the piece of napkin it read
TO: The streange "Emo" boy I watched sleep on the Bench at Glen Park......Because he looked so damn cute with his face shoved in a sketchbook"
FROM: The Red-Head "tyranny" boy
I looked up and my mouth dropped....that sexy ass, green eyed Spartan was...............a tyranny boy!? All of that what I was feeling that day was sparked by.."That tranny Boy!!!!???"
I mean I was thinking how significant is a dick anyway? It gets in the way when you try to sleep on your stomach, it has a mind of its own when you can't control your hormones any longer, and too much emphasis is placed on its size and girth.....all I knew was Ashton the red-head tranny boy opened my eyes to an entirely different realm of feeling....I was excited and it was because of Ashton I accepted all tranny boys as real boys and why i love them so much. Because of ................................."That Tranny Boy"
-Isaac
-Gotti
You're Princess: Samone Marshalek
unpublished poem by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]
Define me as your princess.
divined in a novel of non-fiction.
I struggle with our battle fields
but your grasp on my glass slipper prevents me from escaping you.
You wont have to take a bite of the poison apple for me to kiss your lips.
My carriage is big enough for your mind to fondle with mine.
Your body is my cloak and my arms are your tower.
but when there's a distance, my heart converges in tangled knots.
Lost in thought of your touch.
For I await for you in a castle as your sleeping beauty.
To kiss me with loves first kiss.
To break the fall from a deep sleep.
But would you climb the million stair cases to reach to me?
Or would you slip rose pedals into my dream?
then it's your eyes that get to me.
Your my candle in the dark that makes me shine from the bottom of my heart.
I urge to take you on adventurous rides
to make the rhythm of your heart beat throb on many fast rollercoaster's.
Skimming my fingers over your chocolate layers.
Wondering with my evasive lips and my slippery hands.
Mirror mirror on the wall who loves you more than all.
I'll make sure I don't take a bite out of the poison apple
But take a bit out of all your love with a kiss to your frozen lips.
You found your Cinderella. You found the shoe that fits.
Still, I'm enchanting to explore and to fine all your weaknesses.
Now define me as your humming bird
Singing beautiful disaster softly, into your delicate ears.
As I'm snuggled and wrapped around you
Playing the melody that you endure me to sing.
When the clock hits at the stroke of 12, the spell is broken.
I'm bound to ask who my heart belongs to.
Is it you?
*typos and capitalization are [sic]
Define me as your princess.
divined in a novel of non-fiction.
I struggle with our battle fields
but your grasp on my glass slipper prevents me from escaping you.
You wont have to take a bite of the poison apple for me to kiss your lips.
My carriage is big enough for your mind to fondle with mine.
Your body is my cloak and my arms are your tower.
but when there's a distance, my heart converges in tangled knots.
Lost in thought of your touch.
For I await for you in a castle as your sleeping beauty.
To kiss me with loves first kiss.
To break the fall from a deep sleep.
But would you climb the million stair cases to reach to me?
Or would you slip rose pedals into my dream?
then it's your eyes that get to me.
Your my candle in the dark that makes me shine from the bottom of my heart.
I urge to take you on adventurous rides
to make the rhythm of your heart beat throb on many fast rollercoaster's.
Skimming my fingers over your chocolate layers.
Wondering with my evasive lips and my slippery hands.
Mirror mirror on the wall who loves you more than all.
I'll make sure I don't take a bite out of the poison apple
But take a bit out of all your love with a kiss to your frozen lips.
You found your Cinderella. You found the shoe that fits.
Still, I'm enchanting to explore and to fine all your weaknesses.
Now define me as your humming bird
Singing beautiful disaster softly, into your delicate ears.
As I'm snuggled and wrapped around you
Playing the melody that you endure me to sing.
When the clock hits at the stroke of 12, the spell is broken.
I'm bound to ask who my heart belongs to.
Is it you?
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