Monday, August 18, 2008

The Joys of Gay Poetry (hey, it even rhymes!)

Monday finds us working on fresh artwork for the website, and wondering at the cynicism of the search engine world ... I'll tell you THAT story in a day or two!

There are things called 'Search Engine Wars.' In this corner, Google, wearing the Darth Vader helmet. In that corner, the Alien, having just assimilated a Kodiak grizzly and now standing nine feet tall. In the third corner, the Predator, priming his weapons and wanting both of the others stuffed and mounted on his office wall back home. In the fourth corner, King Kong, and in the middle, you and me, trying to figure out how to get the hell out of the ring -- and how we got there in the first place!

It's a long, complex and somewhat confounding story, and I don't have time to tell it right now, but return in the next day or two, and all shall be revealed. [sound of barfing] Seriously, you won't believe this, and if you're in any way interested in marketing your books on the Internet, there's a whole bunch of stuff you have to be aware of, lest you get shot down in flames and wonder why! (Indie publishing is rough enough at the best of times without getting caught in the cogs and gears of online monster machines.)

For the moment, I'm on the run, but call this the 'preview,' or the 'trailer' for the main feature which will certainly make you blink.

For today, being on the run, I'm not going to ramble, nor tackle a serious topic which warrants a lot more time than I can give it! Instead .. something so new, I'd say the ink was still wet, if I hadn't written it in pencil in the back of a notebook. A new poem -- gay poem, at that.

(For those who can't stand poetry, gay or not, skip the next part and scroll down to the artwork which was uloaded yesterday: I promise you a full-on intrigue tomorrow or the next day. For myself, I actually classify poetry as a kind of art. Painting pictures with words, as a friend of mine once remarked, a long, long time ago. So forgive me if I goet arty-tarty on you again. I don't do it very often.)

I don't often write poetry these days, but when I do, I like to share it. Enjoy...

    He said,
    "Who are you, stranger?
    What brings you to this town?"
    I said,
    "I come from far away,
    The wind has brought me down
    From mountains where the trees
    Cling on beneath the autumn sky;
    I'm searching for a place
    To call my home, before I die."

    He said,
    "I keep a cabin in the woods
    Not far from here.
    Don't get too many visitors,
    Cuz folks have too much fear
    Of people who're different ...
    I'm different -- you've been told."
    I said,
    "You're not so different,
    And as for me? I'm bold."

    He looked into the autumn sun;
    He looked into the wind,
    He touched my face, he touched my hair --
    And if I'd never sinned,
    I'd have fallen, fast, from grace...
    But I've been there before,
    And when he set his lips on mine ...
    Well, I was home. I swore --

    Here was home, for all my days.
    Here was kith and kin,
    And all the things I've wanted,
    And all the love within.
    Here -- a place for weary bones
    To take their rest awhile,
    And learn to watch the world spin on...
    And learn, again, to smile.

    He said,
    "You're not so different,
    Not if we're both the same."
    I said,
    "We always have been,
    And nobody's to blame
    That we just never met before
    I wandered here, this fall."
    And I gave him, then, my hand to hold --
    My life, my heart, and all.


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