Male Homosexuality: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
By David Gottfried
INTRODUCTORY NOTE: The fucking formatting on Substack has changed, presumably because of godforsaken computer nerds who can’t leave shit alone. Computer nerds constantly change things because just as genetic mutations trigger cells to become cancer cells and end our lives, computer nerds, purporting to “improve” communications, make it harder for us to communicate and end our careers.
In any event, I have a bunch of poems here. Some things should be single spaced. Some things should be double spaced. However, until I press the enter key I have no fucking idea how anything will format here.
Accordingly, whenever I want to make a double space, I will write “
double space” in the manuscript. Do you think I’m just a Neanderthal who doesn’t appreciate progress ? You’ll see: Soon we will all drive automatic cars programmed by remote computers. And soon the terrorists will hack the computers and create the Mother fucker of all multi car collisions.
In any event, back to some poems portraying some of the many different facets of male homosexuality:
TERMINAL ANGLOPHILIA
(Inspired by Marc Bolan’s voice rhyming the words “chance” and “dance” in “Bang the Gong (Get it On),” a song by the rock group T Rex)
double space
It was quite a mesalliance
To be wed to Frothy France
For the Prussians they will prance
Upon Paris in a trance
DOUBLE SPACE
We must thwart their advance
And Assume a stoic stance
With a dagger and a lance
We’ll quash their entrance
double space
And When we charge we dance
In underwear by elance
At the foul we look askance
And we dare to take a chance
double space
With a very haughty glance
Like a seer at a séance
We’ll exhume a dude named Lance
And He’ll wear the tightest pants
------
Lose your Dreams and You Could Lose Your Mind, In Life unkind
“Lose your dreams and you could lose
Your mind, in life unkind”
Ruby Tuesday, Brian Jones, 1967
The rubies and Tuesday afternoons
Of the Moody Blues and the headiest Stones
The scarlet sunsets of blood shot eyes
The love that shined and its demise
double space
Weed and Cream and the jagged Jeans
Frayed and framing the butt and the crotch
The plaintive voice, the foolhardy choice
To plant your lips on the bravest boy
double space
To strive to seek to never yield
So Camelot, convincing, so Kennedy, so dead
And your fair and golden hair
Blushes with red, fleeting and fair
double space
That ass, that alabaster mast
That muscles your way into the port
Uncorking the wharf’s kegs of beer
The cops as impotent as a steer
double space
The sun also rises and falls
The horizon bleeds with softer reds
The oxygen was poached and preyed
Starved of love and the lustful shade
---------
At the Gay Bar
double space
Praying at the gay bar
Debasing at the gay bar
Giving unto Apollo life and balls
The drug induced stupor enthralls
double space
Waiting at the gay bar
No one comes at the gay bar
The men are groaning in the bathroom stalls
Their pricks are shit-encased, a rat crawls
double space
Aging at the gay bar
Learning to die at the gay bar
You have a name no one at all recalls
You’re alone, entombed in granite walls
double space
Ending at the gay bar
Surrendering at the gay bar
The very thought of joy galls
The sun’s light just appalls
--------------
ODE TO “BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN”
double space
Is my mind shuttered
Hopelessly corrupted
Religiously cluttered
double space
With lies, alibis
Am I asinine
(Do I dare to eat that peach)
double space
But do I derive
Something alive
Manna to thrive
From a beautiful song and the man singing the words
double space
Herds of sheep on Brokeback Mountain
I hear the lines, “Oh captain, My captain”
I hail, I hallow, that brotherly bastion
That tent in the woods, my Mecca, my mansion
double space
I love that man, I love his eyes
No drug will anesthetize
Or sublimation ever disguise
My stabbing aches and pleading cries
double space
Storm the dungeon of my heart
The relentless melody of the tart
The irony, like a rampart
Against what love can impart
double space
Put down the quill, enjoy the thrill
Don’t espy it from a windowsill
A warm chest for winter’s chill
And burn taboos on a grill
double space
The fire’s down, the embers gleam
Cold air blows in a steady stream
The warmest arms embrace, redeem
The manly force of love supreme
double space
Although his steps were soft and slaked
The boots on his feet were muddy and caked
It seemed as though the earth had quaked
Our hard embrace could not be braked
double space
Touch those jeans and feel the heat
The weight, the heft, the sinuous fit
Stand erect and beam conceit
Relish strength and true grit
double space
Touch striations of muscled love
The rump, pale like the white of a dove
Manners be damned, the cock will shove
The aperture fitting as sweet as a glove
double space
The howling night, the dusty shrub
The mean and common monotonous grub
Those grunting gasps you’ll never dub
The seed, the stain, you’ll never scrub
double space
Whisker to whisker, hear him whisper
Savor the breath with the force of a twister
To be each other’s sovereign brother
A bulwark, a brace, against disaster
double space
The seasons stark, the natural reign
The real intention spoken plain
Shouting at the world’s disdain
Growling softly in my brain
double space
His voice so soft to me resounds
The strength, the sweet, so fused, astounds
On all the playing fields and grounds
His memory overtakes, surrounds
double space
But coyotes and jackals intervene
Braying, heaving, reeking spleen
Cleaving to their means obscene
Their Jesus real as plasticene
double space
The prohibition that always detains
The prosecution that always arraigns
That never, ever, ascertains
The loneliness lodged in our brains
double space
Now soil’s moist, the dew like tears
They once rejoiced, so many years
Their flag was hoist, but disappears
Their love was voiced, but doused by fears
double space
So do not dare to stifle and bridle
And make me lonely and so suicidal
Bereft of the force virile and vital
Silence and Bury that bible recital
double space
That cowboy, that manboy, that man of no means
Exposes Pharisees as Philistines
His beauty and balls, staunch evergreens
Surpassing the straight, perverted and mean
double space
I want to laugh, I want to smash
Barriers and bullshit and doctors’ cant
I must, I will, I shall do it now
Redeeming acts my steely vow.
--------------
MY ENGLISH FIXATION
double space
The insouciant stance of an Englishman
Dazzling manners, haberdashery never bland
Elite and discreet and with sneering conceit
Proud kingly power and queenly deceit
double space
The voices ironic, iconic sarcasm
The syllables sling like Lancelot’s swords
To joust like a knight beaming and bright
To ride mighty steeds with the ease of a breeze
double space
The manor houses are grand but staid
The Gray walls as tall as a fjord
The rococo roof is a preening Tiara
A chandelier cackles, a dungeon door slams
double space
So take me on a mystery tour
Down trap doors and caverns to ancient abodes
To the misty, melancholic onset of England
To Castles and classes and stark, silver swords
----------
DEATH DRIVE
double space
There was vermin in his verse
It will take you to your hearse
Like a castrato with a curse
You know you’ll curtsey and far worse
double space
Your very being’s now subverted
Male and female inverse
A boy with pomades in a purse
A pantomime to rehearse
double space
So cruelly you’re traduced
To a midget you’re reduced
Regression is induced
And the penis is recused
double space
And your expanding girth
Will subsume your manly worth
You won’t find a speck of mirth
On the sordid, wicked earth
---------------
THE NICEST GUYS I KNEW DIED OF AIDS
double space
The sound of his voice was like the smell of a far too sweet perfume
A kindness gone rancid it was something to exhume
Sterilize and sweep-up with a vengeful cold vacuum
Go back and kill it in its hopeless bewitched womb
double space
His high notes scratched like woolen leggings worn
By little boys in kindergarten, lost and forlorn
Scraping and scratching and leaving smooth skin torn
Like a nipple or a phallus plainly pierced with scorn
double space
The weak and weary whimpers and Monday morning whines
The schoolyards of taunts, assaults and freezing lines
Dreading those smacks on his slight and too soft spine
And a world of gloom so incessantly assigned
double space
The muffle in his breath betrayed an early death
A little bird that failed to make his desperate southern trek
Squashed and degraded like a helpless insect
Alone, without brothers, and no strength left
--------
Oh, to be
double space
Oh, to be a mad dog and an Englishman
To fight with the panache of Bernardo in West Side Story
Assuming a stance, like a knight with a lance
Reveling in the gorgeousness of Renaissance garb
double space
To wear shorts so short they stun like a retort
To wear T shirts so tight they incite a Latin night
To wear socks so high they tower with preening pride
To don the sneaker as fortuitous as Cinderella’s Slipper
double space
To be as tough as the mightiest straight guy
To be as pretty as the loveliest homo dancer
To revel in cosmetics with florid French names
To scream like Elizabeth Taylor, to kill like a Marine
double space.
To be the heroic hybrid of countervailing dreams
To be a corpus collusum that welds my selves together
That unites the antipodes without cancelling them out
Like a ten inch dick and a ballet ass.
----
Mating
double space
I ride the horse so black and brave
I swim through currents cold and cruel
And if you think I am a knave
I’ll show you who’s the bigger fool
double space
You’ll quiver like a chastened slave
You’ll be my pliant, passive tool
And on your flesh I will engrave
A tattoo of my raunchy rule
double space
Submit to me, the man you crave
Your pleasures are a meager gruel
My spike will make your life less grave
Don’t be a stupid, stubborn mule
double space
And do not cry and rant and rave
Your freedom is a whirling pool
Your tumult will not let you save
Or cherish life as its lived dual
—-
Bikes on Boulevards
double space
Take that toke, see the sinuous smoke
The fumes that wiggle like a fairy in heat
The genie unleashed you won’t revoke
Breathe in deep don’t be discreet
double space
Get as high as Saint Peter’s Basilica
Strafe the scene with your gun’s eruptions
All the morals are mere ephemera
Laid to waste by your corruptions
double space
Ride a bike in leather that gleams
In black so brilliant bold and free
Realize all the wettest dreams
Damn religion’s death decree
double space
Speed your car on the boulevard
The machine as sleek as a leotard
The engine’s roar is like a bard
The manifesto I’ll regard
--------
SEEING “TAXI DRIVER”
double space
I'll never forget when I saw “Taxi Driver” and dropped acid
Down my throat
The morning mists of Washington Square Park
(Or the exuberance of New York's
"F" subway line)
Carried me aloft to Fifty Ninth Street
Where all the big movies played
In spanking new theaters
double space
And the concession stand came from Penny Lane
and Strawberry Fields
Sugarcoated foreplay before the Fuck
(Spitting in your eyes
Drilling through your ears
Simulating jismic dreams of plenty
A lust that lasts for years)
double space
And when the show was over
All the mannequins of nearby Bloomingdales gave me a hard on
The spring was turning to summer
Sweet limbs loomed large and smooth
Street lights all seemed to twinkle
double space
And then it was time to go home
And I looked for the "F" train to go home
I walked round and round the street
But I couldn't find it because I was high
I still haven't found it
double thing
TAXI DRIVER, POSTSCRIPT
My favorite thing
Is letting the phone ring and not picking up
Hearing your voices on the answering machine
Imploring, pleading
Go ahead and beg some more
double space
Cry baby
Cry me a song of sweety pie tears
Of strawberry nose
And blackberry eyes
You have no allies
-----------
A meditation on the Letter L
double space
There is a longitudinal loveliness in the loneliness of the L
The longest letter, lovely lady as a super model
The delerious angularity of your special hell
Anorexic, astounding, sainted from the cradle
double space
Purged of the curvature of vivacious, vixen S
Not caring at all if it will impress
It stands aloof, faintly in duress
Ever erect, and with effort, it takes its recess
double space
There is in the quarterliness of its ninety degree angle
Something stark, light to dark, in the crossing of the hands
Like the “Oath of the Horatii,” like a brother bound to fight
It casts and it basks in its honor and demands
double space
It is a man, L is man, it is Nelson at Trafalger
Looking lean, looking starved, with guns he will discharge
leonine, luminescent, riding an arching spark to mars
The resplendence of its light is a stellar, jeweled barrage
-------------
Ruby Tuesday, 1967 to 1990
double space
Purple Warm Ebullience
A withering British chill
A cocktail of cocktails
A queen for a king
Sceptered Silvered Saintliness
double space
Purple Lesioned Lifelessness
Swastikas Stars Sickles
Show me the valiant way to die
------
DANCING WITH INTEGERS
double space
To be squared, cubed, exalted to the tenth power
Sweeping upwards in arching multiples
Leaping centennials of time toward infinity
Marauding the millennia with the mirage of the Messiah
double space
To be a parabola on a Cartesian plane
A Zygote of pure genius informing the world
Belting the bourbons, inciting the terror
Slingshot through decades to the Commune to the Partisans
double space
To be an art of swiftest science streaming forth
Of mathematical confidence careening onward
Of planned metered marchings in decibilistic order
Of futuristic canvases striated, muscled, tough as hell
double space
To be the linear loveliness of such arrowed arrogance
London's crystal palace refracting all the light of heaven
Glowing with the glory of some sceptered spark of G-d
Inscrutable, unnamable, I am always moving on.
double space
Copyright, David Gottfried, 1995 to 2021