Collective Unrest

 

Newspaper Clippings

May 22, 2019

I tear news clippings from newspapers

to remember flesh and blood martyrs.

 

Now please understand when I say

that I don’t want to get political,

 

But when my worth is questioned

due to homophobia, I have reason to protest;

 

When I can’t openly walk outside with a partner

without being called slurs and taunted,

 

When my Highways of love are polluted

with bumper stickers saying, “God Hates Fags,”

 

When daffodils of purity are stomped

upon by the faceless shadow of hatred,

I have reason to believe there is a problem.

 

Now I was always taught

to hate the sin, not the sinner;

 

But when a large part of my identity,

no, my very existence,

 

is marked as something worthy of the death penalty,

There is definite reason to pause and worry.

 

When Matthew Shepard was lured, tortured,

and brutally murdered for his sexual orientation.

 

When Mark Carson, holding hands with his partner,

was cornered and taunted, and then stabbed

to death for being himself.

When Ahmed Said and Dwone Anderson-Young

were trailed after leaving a gay bar,

and beaten to death

while trying to reach their vehicle.

 

Now in the beginning I said that I didn’t want

to get political,  but believe me more when

I say that I don’t have that choice.

 

Adam Levon Brown is an internationally published poet and author in 14 countries. He identifies as Neurodivergent and Queer. He has had his work translated in Spanish, Albanian, Arabic, and Afrikaans. Boasting over 300 published pieces, you can find his writing at such publications as Burningword Literary Journal, Firefly Magazine, Zany Zygote Review, Epigraph, Angel City Review, and Ariel Chart.

Please follow and like us:
error
Newer Post

Before @realDonaldTrump, I Used to Sing of Promise

One morning when I needed to shake the silence in my bones, I slipped out before sunrise and found the song I used to sing sitting on the ground by the dog’s favorite lamppost. I lifted it up and felt…
Read
Older Post

The River's Story

One step more, the river floor constituted of pebbles below me, slips between my toes. They are tortoiseshell, black, slick with fur and the few ivory stones pocked with beige blemishes.   The canopy a spectrum of greens shielded us…
Read
Random Post

Esperanzado

She is lavender and daffodils finding strength in their stems on a day that the wind has heavy breath. She is an intermediary between generations weaving songs into patterns of light and spreading hymns through a stained-glass window. She is…
Read
Random Post

Annotated Bibliography

every book I have ever loved has gone unread—or worse yet— abandoned by Chapter Three because       I Just Couldn't Get Into It yet every book a man has ever recommended to me, lent me, or even mentioned…
Read
Random Post

The Dress (Lantern Woman)

the sadness swallows and before i punch and claw and clip to be spit up, everything is drenched to dark and dew and i’m returned to the damp dusk and told goodbye knees kneed in palms kneed skin all in…
Read
Random Post

On Being Black and Blue

There is this word that I was always told wasn’t for me. “It isn’t something we use.” And when the world behind my eyes was too bright, pitched to the side, not quite enough. Old color, not quite black and…
Read