“J U S T A H O M O S E X U A L”

By Robert H.

That’s it? The phrase is cute.
A life defined by one impute.

he sings and dances, writes verse and rhyme,
he swims and runs, laughs and plays,
eyes shine bright, as new mowed hay,
Yet all YOU see, is that he’s Gay.

J u s t a H o m o s e x u a l ?

Hold on ! Think before you speak.
My brother’s soul is mild and meek.

he hears the whispers in the trees,
he feels the soft of nature’s floor,
smells the mist – the dawning day,
Your only comment, “HE’S GAY !”

J u s t a H o m o s e x u a l ?

Pity you. The poorest of us three.
A vision blocked. Now fear the free.

he walks the cliffs, that others dread,
he rises past your clubs and knives,
he sees beyond the great brick wall,
Touches clouds, where others fall,

J u s t a H o m o s e x u a l … Oh sure, THAT’S ALL

Accepting My Humanity

By David G.

I am male
and I am female
I am young
and I am old
I am strong
and I am weak
I laugh and I weep

I am gay
and I am straight
I am happy
and I am sad
I am loved
and I am despised
I know victory and defeat< > I am brave
and I am scared
I am alone
but not forsaken
I am a prisoner
but I am free
because I accept
all of this
my humanity

Lisbons and Lesbians

By Robert Evans

Lisbons and Lesbians
Dad being an Archie Bunker clone,
said the two women next door
were ‘Lisbons.’ I said the home
just south that is brick, or

the one north that’s made of stucco?
The nice brick home will definitely
decline in value, after they go
in. I said how is it exactly

you know they are from Portugal?
Since you call the couple, ‘Lisbons.’
What’s that got to do at all
with what I said ‘about those twos?

So Dad, our neighbors are LESBIANS —
what’s that got to do with decline
in value of property? The ins
and outs of someone’s sex isn’t mine

to question, I said. So should
I (thinking to myself) start
singing ‘I shall overcome,’ or would
people of color scream you can’t

sing that, ’cause the gay cause ain’t
the same. As if there are no
gay black people famous and out.
One more discrimination to go.

Meanwhile back to our street — Dad
sees the obvious humor of his own
“Bunkerism.” And I weigh how bad
the closet can be — why not be open?