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Adam Donaldson Powell

Inside looking out.

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INSIDE LOOKING OUT - alternative voices.

Let?s get something straight ...

Let?s get something straight ...

I am not ?gay?, and this is a

One-time thing .. so don?t

Go expecting anything more;

Don?t say ?hello? to me on

The street, at the mall or at the gym;

And for God?s sake don?t you ever

Tell anyone about this ..

(if you know what is best for you.)

Agreed? Good! Now ?manhandle? me bitch ....

Yeah!!! .. now THAT?s what I?m talking about ...........

Still horny.

It feels great to be ?in love with love? ..

Floating .... with butterflies tickling my insides.

Fuck yeah; it feels good .. real good.

Keep looking at me .. just like that ....

But what is that hard-metal music

Thumping and overtaking my body rhythms ..

And causing me to jerk uncontrollably?

Keep touching me .. just like that ....

And why am I sweating from my armpits,

Forehead and testicles ? involuntarily emitting

The unmistakable scent of natural musk?

Tell me: why am I still so damned horny?!!

That's fucking awesome dude!

Keep doing that .. whatever it is ............

Punk.

I want a real lover ..

And I want him now.

Like Arthur Rimbaud .. or Jean Genet.

Not like those pseudo-punks

Who have figured in my youth:

The uncle who convinced me that

I was a ?fruit? and was ?special?

Before I even knew what sex was;

And the asshole who raped me

In his mother?s house ? forcing me

To hold my tongue lest she awaken and

Call the cops .. and really get me into trouble.

Or even the tiresome ?S&M queen? who had

An endless supply of sex toys and rubbers,

But who became angry when I laughed when

He couldn?t ?get it up? .. naturally.

I want a real lover .. a ?real punk?;

Who can fuck me and suck me,

And take what I got ? like a ?man?.

I want a real ?punk? .. who is exactly what

He says he is; and who couldn?t give a fuck

Who else knows that he loves another man.

I want a real lover ..

Like Arthur Rimbaud .. or Jean Genet.

And I want him now.

Survivor.

Yeah, he?s a survivor ...

His alcoholic mother has breast cancer;

And his ?dad? left long before

He was born.

Living in a trailer park

Has its perks: no one really

Cares if you stay out all night ..

Or for days on end, for that matter.

Yeah, he?s a survivor ...

His sister is an ex-whore;

Struggling to stay ?clean?

So she can keep her job

As a cashier at Wal-Mart.

Her loser live-in boyfriend is

A ?good-for-nothing? ..

A fucking bum who

Won?t even bother to recycle

Bottles discarded in garbage

Receptacles or containers.

Yeah, he?s a survivor ...

He gets beaten every other day

At school; and slapped once-a-week

At home. He?s used to it: doesn?t care

Any more really, but he has recently

Begun carrying a switchblade to see if it

Can be a deterrent .. like going to war in Iraq.

He dreams of getting a handgun, and is hoping

That someone famous will one day pimp his ride.

Yeah, he?s a survivor ...

He takes his HIV-meds when he remembers.

Life is a sweet mixture: sometimes ?heaven?,

and oftentimes ?hell? .. depending on the ?high?,

the sex .. or the lack of either (or both).

A neighbour-punk called him ?faggot? once ..

He just smiled ............. causing the asshole

To split in haste and fear. Who cares?!!

It?s all temporary anyway; what with

Global warming, nuclear threats, serial killers

And terrorism .. and those fucking ?super malls?.

His favourite posters in his room are pictures

Of victims: from the second world war, from

Natural catastrophes, from terrorist attacks ..

Anyone who reminds him that he is one of

The lucky ones.

Doesn?t matter. For the moment anyway.

At least that?s what he thinks when his

Mom blasts the old disco hit ?I will survive!? ..

The one time in a blue moon when he

Sets himself down to do his homework.

Yeah, he?s a survivor ...

Busted by a banality.

I was just about to successfully pull off a ?premature evacuation?

when the goddamned computer announced ?You got mail!?;

thus waking my sleeping partner.

After lying and saying I was just going to get a glass of water,

he turned over and returned to his snoring. I sat up awake ..

wondering what his important e-mail message was.

It was spam, and read: ?We can get you a bigger penis!?

I crawled back into bed, quietly singing to myself about the

fifty ways.....

Instant recall.

?Real? briefly becomes surreal,

Through transference;

Flashbacks of earlier moments ?

Long since filed away on

My mental hard-drive:

From the first teenage ejaculation to

Secret college dorm circle jerks, and

More-recent ?delurked? web chats.

Our momentary glimpse in passing

Awakens all those lost memories

And more.......... yeah ..

Relentless fever; overtaking us

Both ? albeit individually, and

Intentionally confined to our own

Private memories and fantasies ?

We meet .. just for a few seconds ..

And briefly exchange a

Kaleidoscope of potential

Experiences ? fuelled by

Instant recall.

The remembered scent

of my own fresh semen

On my genitalia, chest and chin

Inundates the moment;

And my last thought as our eyes

Finally avert one another is:

?Scoop it up!?

Fag hag.

Whoa dude!!! That?s no fag hag!

Jump back .. and kiss yo?self ...

No, she ain?t my lover;

But she definitely be my ?girl? ..

My ?confidante?.. my escort ..

My confessor .. my social bodyguard ..

And yeah, sometimes even my ?pimp? ...

Don?t be fooled: you will not get to me

Without undergoing her scrutiny..............

But I do love a guy who is persistent ...

That is, if we are at all interested.

Heritage ... right!

Heritage .... right!

So what has your generation

Really passed on to me?!!

A set of identities that often don?t fit;

A world riddled with standardization,

Wars,

Lies,

Plastic reality-show idols,

Virus,

Global warming,

Uncertainty,

And all too easy access to drugs ...

(that sweet salvation that ultimately enslaves).

Sure, I respect what you worked for:

A sense of potential, and the

Personal freedom to express my

?Right to be me?.

But what the fuck does it matter when

Individual isolation in an

Out-of-control jungle presses me

Further inward than you ever were?

I won?t give up today?s cyber-existence;

But sometimes I really do envy your

?Good old days?............

Heritage .... right!

Identity.

Don?t be afraid ..

And don?t be a bioche,

Or a jackass of all trades.

Can?t you see that I don?t really

Want to have sex with you ...?

I want to be loved, and looked up to;

And I sometimes want to be you.

Am I searching for identity in

All the ?wrong places?? Perhaps,

But the part I dislike the most is that

I will do almost anything to get it.

Identity.

Gay-ku.

?Fag?, ?queer?, ?homo?, ?gay?:

All just labels .. whatever ....

How about some sex?!!

Sex me up!

Sex me up ? real good!

I?m following every word

In our web chat .. looking

For every possible perambulation;

All double-meanings and

Cleverly-veiled suggestive remarks.

But don?t get too direct with me, and

I don?t want to know your problems;

You must never interfere with

My attraction to the fisted fantasy

That gives me ultimate satisfaction:

The ?other world? you think that we create

Together, but which I (myself)

Both covet and selfishly desire to own

Entirely and solely.

You know the rules .. you know the game;

Now sex me up ? real good!

Copyright "A" (another gay writer), 2007

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