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

Whispers from the Fire: More Poems that Burn with Truth…

A decayed throne stands in the ruins of a dark city, shadowed by a towering cathedral beneath storm clouds, symbolizing greed, deception, and moral decay.

Veins of Corruption

Beneath polished speeches and pious robes, corruption festers—its breath thick with greed, its fingers stained by lies, its prayers dripping with perversion.

Read the Full Whisper →
A hooded executioner stands over a kneeling prisoner, guided by a priest, as a raven circles above a castle crowd

They Came for Me

A gothic prose poem whispered from the block. As a condemned soul walks toward his final moment, time slows, beauty sharpens and memory bleeds through silence. He does not beg — he remembers.

Read the Full Whisper →

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

Shirtless man in leather stands in a shadowed dungeon corridor lined with chained, naked figures

Devils & Monsters

A fevered descent into an underworld of lust, shame and spectral flesh. This dark narrative poem explores gay identity in a world ruled by devils and monsters, where desire rots and redemption hides behind steel bars.

Read the Full Whisper →
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.

Read the Full Whisper →
A pale, androgynous figure with hollow eyes stands in a dark, gothic forest while a shadowy snake coils behind them. In the distance, a masked silhouette emerges from the mist, evoking themes of betrayal and haunting identity. The image is painted in muted tones of black, gray, and brown.

Heterovert

You wore my mask and whispered my pain as yours. But I knew. Even behind your smile, I smelled the rot of erasure. Your queer was my gag—But I sang anyway. I flew anyway. I remained whole.

Read the Full Whisper →

Whispers Out Loud: More Spoken Word Poems to Perform…

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