Sydney Academy 2

 


I remember some of the teachers: Mr. Miller known as Jolly Miller behind his back who taught mathematics: algebra, trigonometry _ I excelled at the first & got lost with the second. Two English teachers stand out as well. Mr. Mould – an English gentleman whose accent we all tried to imitate. Rather staid & he always favoured the memorizers. Miss Laura Donaldson: perhaps my favourite English teacher who was sarcastic, challenging & stern. The English literature we were taught was never modern though. Dickens was as up to date as it got.

The other teacher I can’t forget is Mr. Mills who taught phys-ed at all grade levels. We had to have our gym shoes whitened properly for every class, we lined up for shoe & sock inspection, as well fingernails. Boys & girls got separate gym classes, to keep those raging hormones under control. We were never taught about how to control them expect avoidance. There was no sex ed that I recall.

I stumbled through basketball – never learned a lay up. Managed volley ball, hated gymnastics, found wrestling confusing – thanks to my raging hormones 🙂 After gym there were communal showers where I always washed as fast as possible, keeping my eyes on the floor to avoid slipping on soap suds. Our lockers were assigned so I changed next to the same boys each term. It was here I saw lots of different cocks, saw that some were darker skinned than the rest of the body, saw public hair, hairy chests, hairy legs.

There lots of taunting & bragging. Because I was crappy at every sport, except badminton, I was derided for not being good at basketball etc. There was no physical abuse though. In fact I experienced little of that but there was lots of verbal abuse in the halls.

My sense of style surfaced in high school. I had some paisley shirts, the first seen in the school. My hair was longish & Mr. Mills frequently suggested I get a haircut. I remember seeing a band on TV wearing shirts with cuffs & collars that matched so I had my mother cover the collar and cuffs of one my shirts with some polka dot fabric. I loved it. Another time I had her sew epaulettes on a shirt for me. The teasing increased & escalated to shoving. I didn’t back down.

Suffocating

me face down flat on the floor

me: fifteen

the floor: high school gym

pine slats and the smell of socks

 

lift from the waist

me lifting sweating

I could do this much of the class

I felt safe in one spot

not facing anything   anyone

 

now roll over

this was a little worse

I could see the other guys in my class

but I’m still safe

in one spot on the floor

 

I dreaded it all so much

I’d arrive at school in my gym clothes 

to avoid the change room

okay on your feet boys

we groaned up

jumping jacks

 

I was still safe in one spot

I could keep up with this

it was basketball that did me in

where I could never remember left from right

never could manage a lay up

traveling with the ball – whatever that was

I would pass whenever I could

sometimes I’d fall to get out of the way

 

but that fear was merely prelude 

to what I dreaded the most

the showers

I’d yank my glasses off right away

soft focus everyone

into naked fuzzy forms

I would slink in as small as I could

rinse down

dart back to my locker

keep my eyes to the floor – to faces

but there was always someone too close

someone I couldn’t keep from focusing on

when I was trying not to look

at hair everywhere on some of them

asses backs around their balls

 

I would dress barely dried off 

rush up the stairs and outside

to breath

to keep from drowning 

in the damp desires

that were suffocating me

http://wp.me/p1RtxU-1dQ

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

every Tuesday 2019

August 2-13: getting back to my roots in Cape Breton
Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee on my trip to Cape Breton – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet 

September

Shaw Festival – Sex (Mae West)

Stratford Festival – Little Shop Of Horrors

October

Stratford Festival – The Crucible

December

The Secret Handshake Gallery – feature – date TBA

June  – Capturing Fire 2020 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

Hey! Or you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2020’s capfireslam.org – sweet, eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Gym Bodies

Disability After Dark returned after a hiatus with two podcast – a clear demonstration that Andrew Gurza does in fact like to come twice when he can 🙂 One is about gym life and the other explores kink. In reality both, to me, involve being confined to some machine and made to sweat in fancy gear. Personal trainers sure make tough dominants eager to show one the ropes.

The image of healthy male fitness always includes sunlight gently warming a six pack. Though everyone I know, even those six-pack packers, want to lose at least another 5 to10 lbs. to be happy. What then? Stop going the gym? This cultural drive for the ideal male body is impossible to escape. One of my tumblr feeds frequently features Middle East bodybuilders, wrestlers – so this drive for ideal body is not just a North American fixation.

I’ve never been to a gym in my life. From Andrew’s description of his experiences & expectations I don’t feel like I’m missing anything. His fantasy of it being an inviting place for working out & cruising come directly from porn not reality. Not that cruising doesn’t happen but usually that hot guy hanging around while one is working out is waiting for you to finish with the piece of equipment you are using not waiting around to use your equipment.

 

 

As much as I find fit, toned men attractive I’m more attracted by men who are comfortable with their bodies as opposed those who seem constantly unhappy and needing to lose their birth weight to be happy. Kink will have to wait for another week.

 

Lorca’s Bones

they’re looking for Lorca’s body

in a mass grave

sorting the bones of wrongfully dead

for the right white bones of the poet

will they give him a proper burial

will they piece the bones together

parade them through the streets

give them their own reality show

Lorca – Remains To be Seen

make jewelry – Lorca lockets

the sacred relics of the poet

 

they’re looking for Lorca’s remains

sifting thousands of fragments

with traces of his dna to test

did they have a poem written

the blood of the poet

lifted with modern forensics

 

they’re are digging for Lorca’s remains

near the olive trees

bones hair toenails

what will be left after all these years

scraps of his clothing

his handkerchief to put over his face

the two bullets

in the arse because he was queer

 

a mass grave of men herded

by the fascist militia

shot in the back

they knew who he was

some intellectual queer

whose words weren’t enough to save him

a poem can stop a bullet but not death

 

he couldn’t live for ever

doomed as we are all doomed

the brilliant brain not enough to evade

to avoid the mass grave

in some ditch

 

they are digging fields for Lorca’s bones

but they’ll never find them

they are buried in my bones

in yours

in every poet who has bled

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

kiss3

https://www.facebook.com/events/1895647050666334/

HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

http://www.queerslam.com

June 8-9 – Capturing Fire 2018 – Washington D.C. (flight & hotel already booked) capfireslam.org 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy ice cream in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

 

Suffocating

samples

Suffocating

me face down flat on the floor

me: fifteen

the floor: high school gym

pine slats and the smell of socks

lift from the waist

me lifting sweating

I could do this much of the class

I felt safe in one spot

not facing anything   anyone

now roll over

this was a little worse

I could see the other guys in my class

but I’m still safe

in one spot on the floor

 

I dreaded it all so much

I’d arrive at school in my gym clothes

to avoid the change room

okay on your feet boys and boys

we groaned up

jumping jacks

 

I was still safe in one spot

I could keep up with this

it was basketball that did me in

where I could never remember left from right

never could manage a lay up

traveling with the ball – whatever that was

I would pass whenever I could

sometimes I’d fall to get out of the way

 

but that fear was merely prelude

to what I dreaded the most

the showers

I’d yank my glasses off right away

soft focus everyone

into naked fuzzy forms

I would slink in as small as I could

rinse down

dart back to my locker

keep my eyes to the floor – to faces

but there was always someone too close

someone I couldn’t keep from focusing on

when I was trying not to look

at hair everywhere on some of them

asses backs around their balls

 

I would dress barely dried off

rush up the stairs and outside

to breath

to keep from drowning

in the damp desires

that were suffocating me

whitewrap

take a peak

This piece comes from my project of writing sweet memory pieces about growing up gay. Sexual memories that weren’t about molestation or queer bashings. This one is 100% real.

It starts what I know to be an almost standard phys ed memory for many non-jocks, regardless of sexuality. Yes, even straight guys are sometimes non-jocks and were awkward in gym class, hated being naked in front of anyone.

whitelight

go to the light

My high-school gym teacher was a Mr. Mills, he had a brush cut, when many of us were burgeoning hippies with Beatle cuts. My physical coordination was worse when I was being watched by him. But I did excel at one sport – badminton – really. Won a few trophies.

The whole shower/locker room scene is so true just reading it takes me back to it. Our lockers were assigned for the year so I frequently had a good look at Wayne Gaudet’s cock. Mine was white, his was very dark even though he wasn’t. I didn’t know how to find out why this was either. Who do you ask? Sir, why is his dick so brown when he isn’t?

greychair

have a seat

Being blonde my hairiness was invisible, so the hairiness of the dark haired guys was pretty clear to me, even with my glasses off. I was asked more than once if I shaved my legs. But those hairy legs were great jo material for me for years after. In fact they still are. Not those hairy legs of teenage memory, but those of adult Tumblr stars 🙂

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

wrap01