Thursday, December 8, 2011

A Distinction and a Difference

A gay comedian performed at our school today. That's how he was described: "a gay comedian". His name was mentioned mostly in passing, except when he was actually announced on the stage. The rest of the time, he was "a gay comedian" that our local Gay Straight Alliance hired to perform. I see a problem. The GSA is drawing a distinction, and they are hurting their own cause by doing so.

Let's consider racism for parallels. Racism certainly exists here and now, but we can all agree that it isn't nearly to the extent that it was half a century ago, yes? Part of the reason is that we honestly do not see the distinction to the extent that we did decades ago. One of my closest friends is black. I'm well aware that he's black. But I don't really think about it. If I'm asked to describe what he's like, I'll say that he's a friendly guy. I'll say that he's involved in a ridiculous number of extracurricular activities. I'll say that he can be a bit self-centered at times, but in the end he is honestly a decent person. I'll say that he's gay. But I will not say that he's black until I'm asked about his physical appearance.

So why would I say that he's gay, but not that he's black? Why is his orientation a larger part of my idea of his identity? The simple answer is that it's mentioned a lot. The more complicated answer is that all sides of society seem to be trying to carve it out as a separate category. There is a large effort in LGBT activism to build a sense of LGBT community. The effects of this activism work in concert with homophobic efforts, creating a general view among everyone that we are somehow separate. There is a common link between the discriminatory comments of certain public figures and the activists' attempts to unite us under a rainbow flag: they all draw a distinction.

The simple fact is that we cannot have the equality that we want if we continue displaying ourselves as a separate category. The message that we convey is that we are different from the norm. What we need to do is make it normal. What we need to do is treat it as no big deal that we're different in that one way. Every time we proclaim our orientation as something to take note of, people really do take note of it more than they did before. They perpetuate the label, the distinction, and, therefore, the possibility for discrimination. That really isn't what we want.
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Monday, December 5, 2011

Rhetor

Show me the method of seeing the universe;
I am untrained, I am vulgar and ignorant.
Tell me your notion of how to imagine; my
mind is unbridled, but I need it tame.

My prior experience, childhood fantasy.
Laughable, really, and none of it usable.
Savage ideas. But I now know the dictum:
The first one to think something has to be wrong.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Unbroken (version 2)


The sacred silence, savored by the students in the sanctum
strains to show the silken flow of simple, solemn scenes.
But chivalrous, the scrapes and shuffles, stopped, subdued, and stifled
seem to sound, support, surround, declare the smallest deed.


(I think this one accomplishes more fully what I was trying to do with the alliteration.)
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Sunday, November 6, 2011

Unbroken

The sacred silence, savored by the students in the sanctum
strains to show the silken flow of simple, solemn scenes.
But chivalrous, the imperfections, rising to the summit,
seem to sound, support, resound, ignite the smallest act.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Brittle

This was actually written as a song, but I'm not entirely happy with the melody I've come up with. Also I don't have the means to accompany it with any instruments. But the lyrics aren't quite awful. So here they are.

I don't know what I want to say
I think I'll say it anyway
I never get it right
And so I never sleep at night
And I'm in love with the idea of love
I'm prayin' to the stars above
But I don't hear a voice
And I don't think I get a choice in that

I don't
Want to be awake
I do not know what I can take
I am afraid that I will break
'Cause I am brittle
At risk from curiosity
A champion of heresy
I'm on my feet, I'm on my knees
It's killin' me

I don't know where I want to go
I'm not sure if I'll ever know
I know it isn't far
'Cause I can't even drive a car
But just believe me, I am happy here
I think, I guess, it isn't clear
My throat is getting sore
And you just tell me if I bore you, please

I don't
Want to be awake
I do not know what I can take
I am afraid that I will break
'Cause I am brittle
At risk from curiosity
A champion of heresy
I'm on my feet, I'm on my knees
It's killin' me

My resolutions need to start
I think I've had a change of heart
This time it's really true
And I will prove myself to you
But wait, I think we're getting hasty here
I think I need to be more clear
I know I need to change
I'm just a little too deranged for that

I don't
Want to be awake
I do not know what I can take
I am afraid that I will break
'Cause I am brittle
At risk from curiosity
A champion of heresy
I'm on my feet, I'm on my knees
It's killin' me

I want to be awake
There isn't much that I can take
But really even if I break
I'll just be brittle
A cat needs curiosity
I can't submit to destiny
I'm on my feet, I'm on my knees

Thursday, September 15, 2011

A Lover Covets Love

Love, debasing,
luring, chasing,
never thought to be a flaw, but
now erasing,
warring, pacing,
beats the heart and wears it raw.

Have a flower,
hunger, power.
He loves you, and you love that he'd
wait an hour,
gloomy, dour,
just to know you love him back.

Feeling happy,
warm and sappy,
nothing sweeter, sweetest fall from
feeling crappy,
twitchy, tappy,
angry that he didn't call.

Now you're weaker,
smaller, meeker.
You don't want to be alone so
you're a shrieker,
crier, weeper,
can't go back, and can't atone.

Trapped by needing,
begging, bleeding,
best to force it, make it fit in
what you're seeding,
growing, breeding.
Work the land and never quit.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Prophecy

A mountebank will teach a man that reckless faith is grief;
no prophet brings an iron word to men who know a thief.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Tock

The mainspring of the clock unwinds,
but mine is tight; each tick reminds.
Eternal cadence binds me short:
no time for work, no time for sport,
for each of two will rob the one.
Though time is endless, I have none.
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Sunday, February 6, 2011

Mortality

This life is futile, bounded twice: birth brought me late and death shall take me early. No work produces permanence, and play cannot sustain itself, so our labors and our loves fail to leave a mark. My words will dissolve in the vastness of time, and even time will end and swallow all traces of me.

Monday, January 24, 2011

My Fire

A bit of boasting burns a bridge,
and brashly will I kindle.
With sickly glow,
the fire's low,
but prideful flames won't dwindle.

Eternal blaze, I covet you
while you drive me to covet.
You cause me strife
but give me life;
I hate you and I love it.

You drive the lively forest back
by poisoning my vision;
I see a face
of friendly grace,
but your smoke paints derision.

I'd like to snuff you, but I won't;
I feel compelled to feed you.
I'll let you stay
again today,
but say that I don't need you.