Coming Out Call-Out

A solemn young man stands near an open wooden door in a gothic hallway, lit by a faint glow behind him

Ever wonder why we have to “come out” while straight folks get to just exist?

Comin’ out, declarin’ I’m a faggot;
Beggin’ for abuse from ev’ry bigot.
When did we hear a hetero proclaim?
Don’t be telling me it ain’t the same.
Seriously, must we still talk like this?
Does progress only apply to feminists?

Comin’ out, comin’ out, I’m comin’ out,
Just to help those who had a bit of doubt.
How old when you went homosexual?
Probably when I became menstrual.
Is the equality talk just bogus?
Does the 21st century not apply to us?

Comin’ out, comin’ out, I’m comin’ out,
Just to be fair game for ev’ry damn lout.
What it feel like to take it up the ass?
Get off the fence and feel the greener grass.
Do you think I am just unfortunate?
How long before you call me effeminate?

Comin’ out, comin’ out, I’m comin’ out,
Just to excuse those who give me a clout.
Let’s see the same requirements of het’rosexuals;
Don’t be telling me it ain’t essential.

—H, tired of asking permission to be

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shadowy beasts with glowing eyes advance on a ruined land while a mother shields her child

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A social micro-poem in 3–6–9 form that cries out against the silencing of truth. In a world overrun by beasts of terror, those who spoke were shamed, erased and left unheard.

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A kneeling figure clutches their throat beside a stone cradle and broken chains in a moonlit ruin

Suffocated at Birth

A piercing free verse poem about surviving the suffocation of heterosexist expectation. Raised as an abomination, silenced by force, this voice now breaks the air with truth and fury.

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Whispers from the Scars: Whispers from the Closet: More Poems of Gay Identity and Truth…

A solemn man wearing a rainbow badge stands in the ruins of a gothic cathedral, as ravens circle beneath a moonlit sky

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A lyrical battle cry from centuries of gay oppression. Through violence, exile and shame, this poem stands tall — a tribute to those who were denied and those who still rise in colour and truth.

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Withered Tudor queen, Elizabeth I, in a decaying throne room, bathed in cold light from a high window.

Twisted Carcass

A spectral monarch speaks from a crumbling tower, cut off by ambition, betrayal and a heart long turned to frost. This poem drips with decay, not just of power, but of connection, longing and trust.

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Two men embrace tenderly in warm light as a tiger watches beside them with calm strength

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A lyric poem exploring the beautiful duality of gay love - fierce and gentle, healing and erotic. In his arms, the speaker finds not just desire, but salvation.

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Whispers Out Loud: More Spoken Word Poems to Perform…

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