The Cutest Beatle

Who is the cutest Beatle? Who is the most talented? Did Yoko break up the best band in the world? None of these questions will be answered here 🙂 All I can say for sure is that John Lennon was the uncut Beatle. Yes, that’s right I’m looking at my John Lennon music collection – not the shirts.

A few years ago I downloaded a bit set of what purports to be all his solo work (though Yoko appears frequently enough.) So I have, as mp3, on 2 cds: Unfinished Music: Two Virgins; Wedding Album; Live Peace in Toronto 1969; Plastic Ono Band; Imagine; Some Time in NYC; Live in NYC; Mind Games; Walls & Bridges; Shaved Fish; Rock’n’Roll; Double Fantasy; Milk & Honey. Of these the only one I had as lp was Walls & Bridges. 

Of the Beatles I would say John was the most adventurous (yes I know McCartney did some electronica) & at one point was avant-garde thanks to Yoko & their early sound collage work. Though I suspect Virgins/Wedding work more of a fuck you to the pop music industry – similar to Lou Reed’s Metal Music. These aren’t lps I feel drawn back to more than every ten years.

I enjoy much of his studio work once he got over his collage mood. The albums all have tracks I enjoy, tracks that have become classics. He was the most directly political of the Beatles & never really followed pop trends. The only one of his lps that I actually bought, when it was first released, was Walls & Bridges. Probably his most Beatlesque work.

To round out the mp3 cds I added The Beatles: Live at the Hollywood Bowl 1965 – the Beatles sing against a backdrop of ceaseless screaming. George Harrison w Bob Dylan: New Morning Sessions; self-titled. The Dylan sessions are sweet but probably more interesting to real fans. The ‘self-titled’ flows with his mystic explorations & love songs. Julian Lennon: Valotte – solid pop from the son of John who looks & sounds like his dad. Finally Paul McCartney’s Band On The Run – I love this album. Paul has real pop smarts & this of all his recordings is the best. I’ve listened to much of his other work & well, who cares.

Magazine Machismo 

I am walking down the street across from the park. Fall. Leaves swirling around me. I spot a few colourful magazine pages caught in a wrought iron fence. As I get closer I discern faces, bodies on the pages. I pull them off. They are pictures of naked men. Full color but not fully naked. These men have on panties, stockings, their dicks can be seen through the sheer fabric. Faces pouting. 

I look around alarmed, afraid someone might see me looking at this that I just happened to pick up. There is no one around. 

I turn the pages over and more of the same photos only  in black & white. There were no other pages swirling in the wind. Where had they come from? I had never seen anything like this before. I guess I was 14 15 at time time. I’d had my own dreams about naked men but never ones that included this sort of fantasy.

I was astounded, alarmed and puzzled all at the same time. I didn’t have any sort of role model to follow and these pictures seemed almost logical – gay men wanted to be women in some way. But I didn’t want to be a woman in anyway, so maybe I wasn’t a really queer after all.

I looked at the pictures a few more times in a street light. Again making sure there was no one around to see me looking. Had someone planted them to be found and where they watching from some window to see who would take them, linger over them.  Where had they flown from to be caught in the wind, tossed around with the leaves like this.

I shoved them in the first garbage bin I came across. I felt free without them, without those faces, cocks, garters, daring me to consider things I didn’t how to consider.

April 3 – Hot Damn! It’s Queer Slam – Season 6 finales

Buddies and Bad Times Theatre


Richard III – Stratford Festival


June 25-26-27 – Capturing Fire 2020 – Wooly Mammoth Theatre -Washington D.C. 


All’s Well That Ends Well – Stratford Festival

Hey! You can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee

at Ted’s Bulletin in Washington DC

at 2020’s – sweet, eh?




I’m so excited

I have a new boy friend

he’s barely fifteen


years younger than me


did that pause catch you off guard

were you sure I was going to say

he was only fifteen years old

was it hard enough to think of a man

having a boyfriend at all

then add to it the shudder that it was

an innocent emotionally underdeveloped

fifteen year old child


though I can remember me at fifteen

jacking off to visions of rock star cock

Jimi Hendrix Bruce Springsteen

that I wished there in my bed


telling you too much am I

get used to it

I’ve heard enough straight poets go on

sparing no intimate details

about blissful raspberry nipples

moist peach fuzzed mounds


so I’ll talk about man on man action

even if it makes some of you restless

a bit bored     a bit threatened

girl on girl would make you more comfortable


I usually try to make the nestling

of men’s bodies into each other

sound sort of sweet and tender

pulling myself away

from the gasp   grasp of sweat    pubic hair


so I’m excited

about my new boyfriend

though I hate boyfriend

boy carries that too young taint

man friend isn’t close

lover is more complex than it is at this point

bed buddy     yeah I like that

I have a new bed buddy

he’s nearly fifteen


years younger than me


This month I am looking at some of the pieces I may be reading as part of Born To Be Blown. All pieces deal with music I grew up with from Mario Lanza to the Blues Magoos. Boyfriend presents the context of much of it. I’ve written before about the lack of openly queer role models I grew up and this touches on that a little. There’s also this sense of having no guidance at all other that straight poets.



parked red

I like the little ‘fooled you’ about sex and age at the start of the piece. It’s fun to perform with an actual pause with a big foolish grin to let minds jump to fifteen years old so I can catch them in mid-judgement of me. It plays into the illusion that all queers are pedophiles. Even at fifteen I wasn’t that attracted to boys my age. There is math teacher I’ve written bout though.


your Ikea kit is here

Some of my musical hotties get name checked – only two as that list could go on & on. I certainly remember scouring lp’s covers pics for any hint of what might be in to r’n’r jeans. John Lennon was the only one who ever gave us the goods.

It moves into ‘present’ time with talk about self-censoring when I first starting hitting open stages, being shy about being too out, even been criticized for being too out in fact a male poet who were very explicit about his heterosex longings. I’m not sure where the ‘raspberry nipples’ came from.

blue&whitecomposition in blue & white

At one time I did make an effort to present man on man without naming body parts but that got to be too phobic and I’m now quite comfortable to call a cock a dick if it fits the piece.


April 26, 2015 – Sunday – 2-5 – Featuring – The Secret Handshake Gallery – 170 Baldwin Ave., 2nd floor, Toronto.


May 7 – Thursday – 8 pm – Judging – Hot Damn! It’s A Queer Slam Season 1 finals – Buddies in Bad Times Theatre – 12 Alexander St., Toronto –


June 5-7 – attending – Capturing Fire – Washington DC


(2015 registration posted but details not posted yet. I’ve registered already 🙂 )

June 21-26 – attending – Rosemary Aubert’s Workshop: The Novelist’s Selfie – Loyalist – Belleville


register now while there is room at the table

page 23 for details next page down for registration info

June 27, Saturday – 7:00-  Feature: Hot Summer Nights at Hirut, Hirut Restaurant, 2050 Danforth Ave., Toronto


September 3-6 – attending – Fan Expo


October 18, Sunday – feature: Cabaret Noir: Inner Child Sacrifice



yellow snow

farewell yellow snow

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr


Lucas in the Sky With Diamonds

The Animals long with the The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and The Who were at the forefront of the British invasion. Needless to say my music collection has nearly complete discographies of all these groups. Each of which spoke to me in different ways.

bballs01 broken ball

I think the Beatles were the first boy band – sold on cuteness then they showed their musical chops; The Stones sold danger; The Who pushed novelty songs into art. But the Animals were never neatly packaged. Reading a group bio ‘Animals Tracks’ – the usual member conflicts, financial ‘abuse’ by managers etc. No surprises there. More about this book next Friday.

bballs02chilly balls

As a queer teen songs like ‘Out of This Place’, ‘Misunderstood’ captured something of my self that songs from the others didn’t. There was no ‘Mrs. Brown You’ve Got A Hot Son;’ ‘Lucas in the Sky With Diamonds.’ Also, perhaps even more interestingly, to me, now is the difference in the image the lead singers projected into my teen sex psyche.

I can’t imagine John Lennon, or Mick Jagger getting into a fist fight with anyone. But, man, I can see Eric Burdon jumping into the fray. The Beatles had cute sexuality; The Stones a sort of sleazy but ultimately, to me, androgynous sexuality (Mick pranced more than danced); where as Eric has the look & stance of a real man.

bballs03 blue balls

His great voice, working class accent and stage presence were masculine and sometimes sullen. A short guy he bragged that he was as tall lying down as he was standing up & I recall a few pictures of him in his well packed jeans that made my mouth water. He reminds me now of guys I’d drink with who’d moan about their girlfriends, kiddies but drop their drawers for you in the back of their vans.



Passage of Surrender




We undress

my words are the same

not romantic

not sensitive

more a noise

than a communication


I undo his buttons

Wanting to rip open

But merely fondle




Touching the flesh beneath

With my fingers

My tongue


between buttons

more talk

politics, weather

anything to know more


He undoes my buttons


His teeth sinking

Stops the empty flow of words

My hands fumble his buckle

I can barely bite back

His shoulder his ear




The first rage passes

It steps aside for explorations

Gradually we lose touch

With everything but touch

We lose names

We lose identity

We lose politics

We become bodies

Cocks ass teeth breasts skin bones


A momentary total

Inhalation of one another

To the heart of the rage

To the rage of the heart




I will not let him dress

Till he stands in moonlight

While the shadows


Over his stomach

Between his legs

He slowly kneels before me

The moon is covered by clouds

As my mouth is covered by his




I always want more

More than there is

I am satiated but not satisfied

I want

His buttons in a jar

His rage

his lust

his fears

his desire

His rain drenched fists

Midnight pounding at my door

But I do have this memory

To alter to obliterate

With other buttons

Other biting teeth




I almost want an end

a grand finale

But my heart cannot beat


the fear


the rage

joylost my blues balls