oh..i get it...I'm a people person..aah.
people person, pleaser, plucked
from the depths, despair, then fucked
around and with and deep, then up
bound, determined, to face my shit,
born and worn and torn, aplenty
mad mind, haunted by the far
and the many
who came (dirty mind) and conquered,
saw and not...
most just didn't bother much,
but really, some did, they tried
but ran for the hills,
what's behind these kind eyes
twists and turns
and fire, wound, burns
think more "rug", less hug
and a lifetime of lessons,
"not quite" well learned
it's like going back to poison,
expecting it to be pretty
it's like a skin crawl, bat, ball
in the dug outs, leaving body,
knowing, god help me,
my forced turn at bat
with all the boys laughing,
disgusted, "that's not a dude,
that's a faggot, look at that"..
"he's so scared, limp wristed, a girl,
if he fucks this up, he's gonna get it,"
hair, back of neck then curls
i wanted to do good,
but i sucked, just not them
a miserable wimp, failure
let the beating up
and the torture begin..
because of course,
i struck out
long before i learned
about putting out..
but guys my own age
never did me like that
"that's what pedo's and mexicans
sorry, just the truth, where i sat
honestly, nothing racist implied
the majority back then,
who liked to slip on my slide
happened to be of that race
and persuasion, and if it was different
i would tell you,
just not part of my equation..
sure, of course, a few white guys
who taught me, told me
more than a few "white lies"
"now I'm gonna stick this,
where the sun don't shine"..
"and something in the way you walk
like a girl, tells me you won't mind"
i didn't, but i did
i hated it, but hid
all the pain, "please, let me die"
first lesson you learn,
don't you dare ever cry...
"just wanted someone to like me",
but really not them..
i realize now, i was secretly in love
with my best grade school friend jim
but he didn't know
all inside was for hiding, so..
what do you do, where do you go?
child of the 70's, in the 80's
when pangs of puberty grow
couldn't tell a soul
and damn, the things i let done
to my hole
and even worse,
my mouth, my mind
that's just the deal, a boy
born of "my kind"..
bushes, creeks and mattresses,
walking home, far out, my body
just like holly, i guess everybody's
got a purpose or a hobby
child of bad tv movie,
got my blades,
not roller, but razor
cut good and quick
i shaped up to be one hellavu shaver
of my wrists, my chest, my throat
"slit boy, slut toy",
well kept secret saver...
but that got old
my compelled, let, molested
so had to move on
to greater masochistic tendencies,
like looking for love,
in "beyond wrong", the places
long ago i fell out of favor,
"god's loving graces"...
so bars it was,
and back alleys, the same
searching for my "bad boy angel"
big surprise, he never showed,
so, people pleaser i was,
boys, girls, beautiful
they littered the haunt
of my heart laden hallways
as giving of love and sweet
my only salvation
to lift another up,
the lonely hell here,
my only sense of real starlit elation
but that's not the way
that many are
i guess you gotta go through hell
to understand the value of scars
scars inflicted by myself, first
it's hard to recognize sometimes
who are the liars
and who are the lovers
but find the few i did..
so lets here then, rip the lid
off the lesions for the lessons
I've had my share
of "heart melt belong" blessings
in times, at the brink,
couldn't take it anymore
whether it was life
or the boys' taunts or all the shit
i did, become, "bleed the whore"...
encapsulated in these names, divine
the "book of love" in my heart,
love of life, i got to be me
eyes of mine, enshrined...
christy, christopher, christina, eric
tania, terah, julie, catherine
the heights, emblematic, the others unnamed, esoteric
loves of mine, so magically drenched
with soul and a "god-like" touch,
all of these few
and a goddess kitten too..
not bad for a people pleasing,
self defined "tortured homosexual",
bathed in blue
not ever quite really here,
but in them i was seen, somehow real
and so in love, so endeared
a boy born to self-hate, take shit
and be terribly confused by it all...
kind of awkward, kind of "out there"
but touched beyond real heaven
and the stars..
and all that matters, in the end,
not the bad shit.
in a rebellion born of "bad fit"
and all the "people pleasing" batshit
of my crazy/cuckoo path
started in youth and damn me, if it didn't end there..
that's the truth.
bowen hart roselli
18 september 2020
the realm of the poetic.
prisoner of the psyche and the inescapable. heart.