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“Ye shall hear of wars and rumors of wars;
See that ye not be troubles;
All these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet”
-Matthew 24:6

I escape the horrors of war
With a towel and a room
Offering myself
To Palestinian and Jewish boys
As a ‘piece’ to the Middle East
When I should be concerned with the untimely deaths
Of dark-skinned babies
And the brutal murders
Of light-skinned fathers

I’ve been more consumed with how to make
The cover of local fag rags
Than how to open the minds
Of angry little boys
Trotting loaded guns
Helpless in finding words
That will stop the blood
From spilling like secrets into soil
Where great prophets are buried

I return to the same spaces
Where I once dealt drugs
A celebrated author gliding past velvet ropes
While my club kid friends are mostly dead
From an overdose or HIV-related symptoms
Marilyn wears the crown of thorns
While 4 out of the 5 weapons used to kill Columbine students
Had been sold by the same police force
That came to their rescue
Not all terrorists have features too foreign
To be recognized in the mirror
Our mistakes are our responsibility

The skyline outside my window
Is the only thing that has changed
Men still rape women
And blame them for their weaknesses
Children are still molested
By the perversion of Catholic guilt
My ex-boyfriend still takes comfort
In the other white powder-
The one used solely to destroy himself
And those around him
Not the one used to ignite and create carnage
Or mailbox fear

It is said when skin is cut,
And then pressed together, it seals
But what about acid-burned skulls
Engraved with the word ‘faggot’,
A foot bone with flesh
And other crushed body parts

It was a gay priest that read last rites
To firefighters as towers collapsed
It was a gay pilot that crashed a plane
Into Pennsylvania fields
It was a gay couple that was responsible
For the tribute of light
In memory of the fallen
Taliban leaders would bury them
To their necks
And tumble walls to crush their heads
Catholic leaders simply condemn them
As perverts
Having offered nothing but sin
Queer blood is just rosaries scattered on tile

Heroes do not always get heaven

We all have wings. . .
Some of us just don’t know why

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Poem WARS & RUMORS OF WARS - Emanuel Xavier