Poems With Unknown Dates of Creation
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would it be easier
to keep my legs inside the ride at all times?
not a boundary overstepped
a woman becoming a man
is a lot more digestible
than a woman becoming an anomaly
emotionally stunted
eyes a sunken sewol
id dress like a punk
tight hugging band tees
and baggy denim jeans;
eyeliner that doesnt misgender me
i want to be a man,
but not in the way that a man is a man
in the way that i am
my finnick is my downfall;
not man enough for the gay men
too gay for the straight men
foolish to think it any other way
day to day,
i am a woman to the checkout lady on a sunday afternoon,
and the customer i ring up monday morning
not man enough to sever my chest,
not woman enough to look at it
i know what i am
an enigma
a pawn
a talking point
what people don't understand,
what they choose to fear instead
// written shortly after coming out 🞟
18.5.13.9.14.4
Music is the soul of life
The one feeling that ceases to go away
And what better way to remind yourself,
Then buy an album?
I left my home, at the first sight of dawn,
Eager to feed a hungering for melody.
And as my feet stepped along the sidewalk, I notice things.
I can hear the paltry rain drip onto the ground,
As if a small gathering of mist, could somehow communicate to me
With a gathering of dots, and dashes
Slang shouted on the street
Recalling my nihilistic speech
As I once did say, before
I was ripped from my childhood.
The small coffee shop that sat on the corner of the road.
And gave me a sudden rush,
A constant reminder of my purpose.
For the urban city looked like a sketch,
The grey buildings dug up a pass time
Left in the drawers of my desk.
And the food intoxicating me.
A shuffle of my cultures,
As an American-Korean would dream.
Bringing some form of sanity to me.
And when I arrived at that record shop
Ready to ravage my ears
With the cutting edge of a knife
Made of metal, rock, and rap...
It felt as if I was reminded
Reminded of the nostalgia, of a once youthful me...
// written for a high school poetry class assignment
Alexander H.
The cold, dark street of that night
The wind blowing through with a bite
A symbol of change
Although very strange
A warning, although very slight
He appeared in the coverage of dark
With a gun that let out a bark
He looked in my eyes
A man of despise
He'd be sure to leave a mark
He'd hated me since that dawn
I'd always wanted him gone
Although not so soon
Under the darkness of moon
Only one of us would move on
We stood 10 steps apart
He'd had a decent head start
I pulled out my gun
Although I was done
Because his bullet stabbed like a dart
The bullet drew blood as a kill
He let out a high-pitched shrill
The irony was
I'd be laughing because
I would be the face of a bill
The cold, dark street of that night
The wind blowing through with a bite
A symbol of change
Although very strange
A warning, although very slight
// written for a high school poetry class assignment
Hey, It's God
Over the hills, past the blood-oath alter
Through the field of end
I crossed my heart and lied.
When Eve ate the forbidden fruit
The snake bit her back
For God hated her
Need to feel
Knowledge sucks when its all—
Faked and fucked
Please bring down your fire and brimstone
Crush me with your Hell
Salute to me, and drain me dry
Maybe I might find my way.
He'd flush the world of all its chaotic little sins
Flood the Earth, and pray
That you don't miss a...
Single spot
Why can't we all just get along?
Crush, strike, maim, pray
Rinse and repeat
// written sometime during high school
hey, it's god (rev.)
over the hills past the blood-oath alter
through the field of end
i crossed my heart and,
told a lie
when eve ate that forbidden fruit
the snake turned back again
for god hated their
insufferable need
knowledge sucks when its all
fake and fucked
please bring down your fire and brimstone
crush me with your Hell
salute to me, and drain me dry
maybe I might find my way
flush the world of all its good
chaotic little sins
and hope that you dont miss a
single spot
crush strike maim pray
rinse and repeat
// written sometime during the creation of this website 🞟
(revised version of my poem "Hey, It's God")
paper rings
i make paper rings
though I know they do not last.
worn around the creases on my finger,
printed onto them with every movement.
sweat sponged in
from every waking night;
color stripped
with every point of light.
i make them,
not to display on a shelf
never to be touched,
but to live with me
as if we were one.
// written sometime in my teen years 🞟
sa
my best friend unalived herself today
my girlfriend's dealing with SA,
and a piece of me is graped
l3$b1an5 and f@ggots too risque
genocide isn't PG
algo-rhythmically insane
// written sometime during the creation of this website 🞟