A vibration like any word

Out There, LA Art Association & Gallery 825's Special Pride Event Show, Summer 2015
Out There, LA Art Association & Gallery 825’s Special Pride Event Show, Summer 2015



Faggot.  A vibration like any word,

Yet it cries with an adrenaline surge.

Neutering sound, it’s still to often heard;

There is a cost to this offensive dirge:

‘Faggot,’ a little boy catches the sound,

Which arrows places both soft and sacred,

Striking the heart that Love has yet to found,

Leaving him, a child cold and naked.

Faggot! A Siren’s song throughout the years,

Immutable as his natural want,

It weaves the noose with violating jeers –

A suicide statistic for a taunt.

Children, consider more than just their hate;

Your out brothers will help carry the weight.

From my notes:
I dedicate this poem to October and LGBT Awareness Month.  After reading about more bullycides and being called a faggot in front of my school this month, I decided to pen a poem about the word.  This is the result.  
It is my great hope that young people discovering their identities feel a sense of community rather than a world built upon hatred.  Please share; help end homophobia.  (2012?)

Haiku & Photography

1,301.

Sky pales at the touch

Of dawn, growing rosy and

Full with her caress.

~

1,302.

Mountains celebrate;

Clouds catch the sun; Dragon comes,

His breath lights the sky.

Cairns, Lake Vermilion

1,303.

Morning commute crawls;

Fury wakes in the left lane,

No exit for miles.

~

1,304.

Joshuas and the

Raven’s call – a fugitive

Peace while day is small.

~

1,305.

The commute, like Chance,

Faces two ways; its Janus-

Heart gives as it takes

~

1,306.

January ends,

Frosted mornings, balmy days;

I’ve a winter’s cold.

~

1,307.

Dodging morons in

Their machines – highway games make

Me misanthropic.

~

1,308.

The day begins as

Little birds flock, backpacks on,

Ready for the bell.

~

1,309.

These graffiti lines –

Silhouetted signs – words from

My flowering mind.

~

1,310.

Handwritten echoes,

Her hand on this envelope;

Grief’s moment, passing.

Cairns, Lake Vermilion

1,311.

Snow flurries burst through

The threshold; heaters quickly

Reveal youthful grins.

~

1,312.

Body vibrations

Subside with a steaming cup

Of peppermint tea.

~

1,313.

The devil on my

Shoulder says, “Just run that light;

There’s no cop in sight.”

~

1,314.

This skin, these thoughts, they

Aren’t me; this sound I make

Is a foreign scream.

~

1,315.

Dreams evaporate

At dawn with the morning’s dew;

Reality calls.

~

1,316.

In the darkest hour,

Shrouded with clouds, city lights

Still illuminate.

~

1,317.

Your most tender kiss

Is like a flip of the switch,

Banishing the night.

~

1,318.

That devil came back

And turned my foot to solid

Lead. “Faster,” he said.

~

1,319.

Prop 8 is struck down,

Perhaps love will conquer hate;

We are people, too.

~

1,320.

Oh, Prop 8, Prop 8,

That silly song born of hate,

Struck down by the state.

Cairns, Lake Vermilion

1,321.

Moon winks, ‘good morning,’

Through wisps of clouds; Sun peaks and

Mobile City wakes.

~

1,322.

From behind the trees,

Yellow eyes stare back at me –

Too big to predate.

~

1,323.

Yellow coyote

Moon howling fully over

Los Angeles streets.

~

1,324.

Lights coalesce;

Dawn’s rays caress a falling,

Fortuitous moon.

~

1,325.

Leaves of amber grass

Roll gently in the wind, like

Words beneath the pen.

~

These haiku first appeared on Twitter in January and February of 2012.  The photographs were taken at Lake Vermilion, Minnesota, June 2012.

Haiku & Photography

1,201.

I might chase the stars

To where they fade away and

Forget breaking day.

~

1,202.

Painted lines divide

But we, like fallen leaves, pay

Lines such little heed.

Floes

1,203.

Might we connect, just

You and me, and keep at bay

This late autumn chill?

~

1,204.

The smoke of chimneys

Fills the air; the cold and ice

Show winter is near.

~

1,205.

Gentlemen Prefer

Blondes plays.  Cajun shrimp, rice and

Zucchini to eat.

~

1,206.

At the dividing

Line, where razors cut, there’s still

All the space between.

~

1,207.

Nostalgic dawn glows

Through the palms; the heater’s hiss

And I call for warmth.

~

1,208.

What particles make

Speed act like gravity?  I

Overtake the group.

~

1,209.

Flurries of laughter,

Bundled in scarves and coats, come

Blowing through school doors.

~

1,210.

The sun and I make

Our orange migrations, each

Rising to our fall.

~

1,211.

Fueling the car with

A shiver as winter takes

Hold of December.

Alaskan Highway

1,212.

Please, posterity,

Show that Phoebe sang it best;

“Repeat… as needed.”

~

1,213.

Gluten free goat cheese

And fig sandwich, then off to

Yoga for some poses.

~

1,214.

Contact suicide

While I drive – look out freeway,

I’m cruising half-blind.

~

1,215.

High school choir comes to

Carol first grade; wonder shines,

Mirrored large and small.

~

1,216.

Touch and go warbirds

Make practice circuits; desert

Dwellers look skyward.

~

1,217.

Encompassed by night,

When stars all seem to fade,

I access the dawn.

~

1,218.

The golden rays reach,

And like your touch they herald

A rising action.

~

1,219.

Owl and raven race

Past patrolmen; I slow

To moderate speeds.

~

1,220.

Coyote too, on

My path – then later again

Exalting full moon.

Floes.

1,221.

Two boys yell ‘perve’ from

Temple windows; Mothers watch

Below, unashamed.

~

1,222.

Three times the cock crowed;

“faggot,’ ‘pussy,’ then ‘pervert:’

Acts of godliness.

~

1,223.

Through the window-shield

Raindrops flicker merrily,

Reflecting headlights.

~

1,224.

Storm clouds gather like

Headlights, clustering in their

Morning migrations.

~

1,225.

The heavens break and

For a moment, bright sunlight.

You smile at my wrath.

~

These haiku first appeared in December 2011 and January 2012 on Twitter (@kryanhenisey) The images are from Alaska, taken in March 2012.  

Sonnet #4: Faggot

Pop Package
Faggot.  A vibration like any word,

Yet it cries with an adrenaline surge.

Neutering sound, it’s still to often heard;

There is a cost to this offensive dirge:

‘Faggot,’ a little boy catches the sound,

Which arrows places both soft and sacred,

Striking the heart that Love has yet to found,

Leaving him, a child cold and naked.

Faggot! A Siren’s song throughout the years,

Immutable as his natural want,

It weaves the noose with violating jeers –

A suicide statistic for a taunt.

       Children, consider more than just their hate;

       Your out brothers will help carry the weight.

I dedicate this poem to October and LGBT Awareness Month.  After reading about more bullycides and being called a faggot in front of my school this month, I decided to pen a poem about the word.  This is the result.  

It is my great hope that young people discovering their identities feel a sense of community rather than a world built upon hatred.  Please share; help end homophobia.