I am really excited to bring to your attention something that I think I should have been doing for a while now.
As most (all three of you) know that I post my poetry online for free, I have decided (my husband has decided) that I should post them as well as my fiction online through Patreon.
I know this whole system is somewhat controversial but I try (at least on my Patreon page) not to be. The access is broken down into levels that I think are pretty cool and would allow me more writing time and more focus on content creating instead of running around Hell’s Half Acre (Hi Sam and Dean).
Besides being a poet, I write fiction. Mostly gay fiction in the paranormal genre and if you’re an author like me you know that when you type ‘The End’ the real work is just beginning even if you are traditionally published.
I would like to deliver the best product I can to the people who spend their hard earned dollars on the stories and poetry that I create and I just need some backup ( Marvel or DC doesn’t matter) to help me do that.
So, without further ado – here’s my site www.patreon.com/fefeeleyjr
Come by and visit. I hope you like the place.
You said you were attracted to my fire, passion
you saw me burning from ten thousand miles away
We were born on the same date
two children of the God Mars
and I was enchanted by your kindness toward me
It was an easy thing
Fire and fire burns brighter, higher,
illuminating the night
You pointed out the familiar
and I could taste the same poison
on your skin, I was familiar with
With ease, our sex, the weight around our neck
bound to who we are by social chains
I found a friend that I needed
a doppelganger, an echo, perhaps vanity
seductively talking to my own ego
You’d crossed the bridge and created love
without the complications of the flesh
a pure thing, this little inferno
which promised the potential of a future
a friendship to span the ages
Yet something went wrong
a cold east wind blew in through the night
and before I had known you crossed back
across the gulf leaving me holding
the little inferno in my hands
making excuses for yourself the entire way
But one thing you weren’t expecting
was the actions I would take
as I cast the friendship down and watched the bridge burn
I realized fifteen years prior when I didn’t burn so sure
I would have acquiesced to the idea of time and place and purpose
Yet, that isn’t my truth now
I rage equally in love and in hate
in fear and in pain
I burn in the night the same for all who needs me
but I do have one question,
now that your choices have been made
and the bridge between us has been destroyed
“How do you like my fire now?”
It started with a statement on the television
from the leader of the free world
‘He want’s to hang all of em’
he said with a smile and a hand gesture
as they talked about men, like me
My chest tightened
the floor fell away and suddenly
I was falling without moving
the rope tightened around my neck
“You are dying,” my mind screamed
from an exhausted mind,
fear of murder of my own kind,
where can I run?
Now that liberty’s run dry
I am not on my own anymore
my vagabond existence
two trash bags of clothes in the trunk
fleeing my past as soon as it
catches up with me
No more no-name face
no more hooking up
with cigarette smiles
trying to remember what’s his name
some random fuck, in some random place
there’s another, now
a family, now
I’m a husband, now
trapped by my vows
my marriage license now
a potential death warrant
Two pills a day
significant weight gain
gasping for breath at the edge of sleep
empty threats from my
God, how do I deal with this?
I feel like there’s a storm coming
and I’m naked and standing in a field
with mud up to my knees
how long before it crawls up to my chest
and down my throat?
How long before the empty threat,
becomes too real?
I can hear a dove sing
in the tree outside my window
with sore muscles and tired eyes
I listen to the sound of my husband
shuffling through books he’d brought from home
muttering to himself about the wisdom of they
who’d left part of themselves for the world
to learn from.
My belly is full of lunch that I made
with no thoughts other than to fill a hungry space
happy to listen to the world outside my window
Last night, a storm blew through our town
with thunder the sound of cannon fire
and flashes of white, dangerous, and angry lightning
that illuminated the shadows of the witching hour
The rain sloshed heavy against the windows
and I – knowing he loved it – woke him to listen
and listen he did; grabbing a pillow and a blanket
he turned from my bed and laid down on the couch before two living room windows with the blinds drawn back
and I on the floor beneath him
Happily- he watched until his breath slowed
warm and protected in the midst of the gale
until at last the reigns were pulled back and the tempest
eased and shifted – I returned to my bed
Now, today, the sun warm once again I sit in the quiet
with the leftover taste of coffee on my tongue
my husband thumbing through tomes muttering to himself
I smile, knowing this is what contentment tastes like.
What is it about my sex?
exuding strength, agility, power
is it the energy?
potential and kinetic?
that makes a man a man?
Is it the muscle, the scent
is it the potential to create life
from my loins
or take it away with my hands?
what makes a man, a man?
is it the crossroads of hard and tender
hungry and horny and needing to be needed?
is it the testosterone that rages in my body
making my blood boil
or is the feathery kisses and tender words spoken
when the sun peeks through the window in the morning?
What makes a man, a man?
and to what do we say to those
men who seek the same things they themselves possess?
that desire the same intersection of power and submissiveness?
that need equal to them or greater
someone with whom to share their life with
what makes a man, want men?
I revel in my desire, my body, my mind
Yet, I feel the pinpricks of love pierce
the beating heart in my chest
and have come to some conclusion, a truth of what
and who I am
that man made male in gender is one thing
but to be a man one must decide what to do with one’s power
so being a man isn’t male, your sex and orientation is an assignment
what makes a man, a man
is a choice.