February 13

He steps over the crack
in the sun-bleached sidewalk
and glances at the flower stand,
and the roses deep red
and the baby's breath blue
mix with the atmosphere pink;
he ponders the separate beauty
of each delicate bud,
and the Valentine's cards
cause him to wonder why love
has a gender at all.


Info:
Editing status: edited
Composed: Unsure; I think February 2004
Submissions: None
Inspiration: being bi and a gay rights activist while I lived in Georgia on Valentine's Day? Not entirely sure, I wrote it a while ago. It's still one of my favorites, though.

cold

the weather outside
is frightful
and lends itself far more
to teddy bears and cocoa
than igloos and snow angels—
ice and snow
are made of the same stuff
but one is beautiful
                              light
                                    airy
                                          unique
the other is merely cold.

Info:
Editing status: unedited
Composed: 13 February 2007
Submissions: None
Inspiration: My first experience with walking in (or rather, trudging through) freezing rain (I know, I'm such an inexperienced Southerner) and being pensive. It's a metaphor, too.

Power

Have you ever wondered why so many people have fantasies of domination? Men and women both... You know: the busty, commanding, leather-clad dominatrix. The dark, mysterious, out-of-control rapist. Little else gets so many people, so many kinds of people, going. It would seem to go against everything we were ever taught about humanity—our instinct is to seek freedom, our very nature is to fight for independence, and yet in our private minds we can only think of it all being taken away. Violence isn’t always a factor, but elements of it are: hickies mark one’s territory, nails and teeth force us to give in to pain, a truly passionate embrace leaves you so tangled up you couldn’t possibly move, even if you wanted to…

I have a friend heavily involved in the BDSM community. I once asked her how she could justify being a staunch loud-and-proud feminist and, at the same time, a submissive partner. She told me that the dynamic in the submissive-dominant relationship is, in reality, the complete opposite of popular belief. The dom may be acting like he or she has the power—leather whips, silver spikes, brute force—but it’s just that: acting. The sub, she said with a wink, now that’s where the real power lies. You see, she smiled, we whimper, we look up in fear, we say “yes, master” and we do as they say—but the instant that safety word of ours comes out of my mouth, all play stops. No ifs, ands, or buts. No nonsense. Everything stops. Nothing the dom can say or do can change that. It’s done. And, in the end, isn’t the ultimate power—not just in lovemaking, or sex, or fucking, or whatever you call it, but in everything—
                    isn’t the ultimate power the ability to make
                                                                                                    time
                                                                                                                   stop?

And I realized—the transfer of power, the surrender of free will, the desire to suspend all that bare instinct commands us to work for, it’s really just a ploy to gain more power. We humans strive for and thrive on power, and those who think enough to realize it can play with it like a child’s toy, twist it around so far until it comes full circle.

And here I thought that maybe, just maybe, on some minute hidden level, we weren’t all power-hungry monsters. But really, I’m just as silly as the rest of us.

This must be why religion works. We submit to a higher power, we bow in awe and tremble in fear, but as soon as we say “no,” that’s it. No more play. Life just… goes on. Like kinetic energy, the choice to submit is kinetic power: we have the potential power to say no.
                    We have the potential power to make it all
                                                                                                    go
                                                                                                                   away.

Info:
Editing status: unedited
Composed: 11 February 2007
Submissions: None
Inspiration: Unsure. It just... came to me.

twenty

and on the first day
of your twentieth year
may you not miss what you've lost
and may you appreciate
to the fullest extent
what you've gained,
because what's lost is lost
but what's gained is yours
for as long as you can hold it.

at the start of your third decade
on this earth
may you care more about the things that matter
and may you let go of those that don't--
people too--
because those that mind don't matter
and those that matter don’t mind,
a great mind told me so.

upon the completion of your teenage years
may the lessons you’ve learned
and the people you’ve loved
never leave your side,
even as that beloved carefree span of time
passes away
like a daffodil’s petals
in the winter.

as you move on into this scary new stretch
this furlong around the corner
may you learn to love
to truly love
fully and deeply
others and yourself,
such that you may never be ashamed
to write your own blessings.

as you feel yourself growing older
little by little
may age bring wisdom
may wisdom bring life
and may your life inspire poetry.

Info:
Editing status: unedited
Composed: 11 February 2007
Submissions: None
Inspiration: Being pensive in the wee hours of my twentieth birthday.