Tenth poem
Autobiography of a Face
How long I have been a window to this world,
So many years have passed by.
Yet thinking of other faces I’ve known,
I tell the body to push on with a sigh.
Autobiography of a face.
The mirror is a time machine,
each tiny wrinkle sending you back
over all the places you’ve ever been,
the reflection of your whole life’s track.
The tiny scar invisible to most
from the lesson learned that awful night
by the stupid kid, now memory’s ghost
needing to be taught how to not fight.
The nose, after five years in the ring,
even though they were just teenage years,
flattened somewhat by persistent punching.
‘Blood and snots’ memories bring tears.
Thirty Dublin winters on two wheels,
protective visor barely down.
I know how sandblasted pollution feels
from driving motorbikes in this town.
Orthodontal overhang and whistly breadth.
I should have been warned before the braces,
But all in all I don’t regret.
Mine is not the worst of faces.
Autobiography of A Face
One thing I never expected when I began my gender transition ten years ago was seeing how it would be recorded on my face;
Skin that was once furry every hour now stays smooth for days;
Cheeks that were once thin and hawk-like have become soft and rounded;
Eyebrows that once almost grew together are now angled and clean;
But the biggest difference is further down;
When I smile now, the light comes from my lips and my eyes.
-30-
Why Do We Really Want It?
We need to legalize marijuana.
Why?
Because it’ll lessen prison populations?
Because it’ll help fund our government?
Because it’ll help medical research?
No.
I just want to get high.
We need to legalize prostitution.
Why?
Because it’ll lessen STD spread?
Because it’ll increase tax revenue?
Because it’ll decrease a sex trafficker’s power?
No.
I’m just a horny guy.
We need to to restrict arms sales.
Why?
Because it’ll lessen school shootings?
Because it’ll lessen violent crimes?
Because it’ll lessen accidental deaths?
No.
If they weren’t so loud, I’d say “buy!”
We need to allow gay marriage.
Why?
Because it’ll foster a sense of equality?
Because it’ll help parentless children find homes?
Because it’ll help control overpopulation?
No.
I’m straight, but what if I decided I was bi?
We need to reform national security.
Why?
Because it’ll create trust in our governments?
Because it’ll let citizens be more willing to cooperate?
Because it’ll allow a real sense of security to ensue?
No.
I just have some nudes on my i… Phone
Damn.
I messed up the rhyme.
Tribute
Seemingly Perfect,
larger than life,
accented by charm,
neck without the knife,
The Take
is not handsome, Bob.
The Queen must play the Virgin,
so the Lawless don’t go Sweeny Todd.
From your Inception,
the Brothers Banded.
We’d All Be Kings,
if the Legend could stand it.
The Knight is not Dark yet,
so Rise to the fame,
them shoulda’s, Rock-n-Rolla,
in that airplane Bane.
And though The London Roads your Drop,
I’m reppin’ for the US, Locke.
Aware your Heights are Riley,
my Wuthering the same,
my Warrior’s beside me.
We share the same name.
Let’s not get it twisted,
Inheritance, Thick as Thieves,
flowetry flood misted,
Reckoning The flow increase.
So, Batter Up,
the Cakes Layered,
Scenes of Nature, to far a trip
don’t really like to Sucker Punch,
Sexual flood, I’d rather skip.
Wrong choice, This Means War,
where you at? Peaky Blinders,
no Kleenex, when Louise’ 44
still your Child, no reminders.
Tip of the iceberg,
talent untold,
gonna Fury Road till your old.
September 15 the day we party,
It’s hard to be Tom,
when your Hardy.
Autobiography of a Face
Autobiography of a Face
As I look at my Bosco eyes,
As I look at my crescent nose,
As I look at my snail-shell ears,
As I look at my piano-key smile,
I realize that I’m as delectable as chocolate,
as magical as the moon,
as patient as a garden mollusk,
and as sanguine as a song.
Poem10/24 “Autobiography Of A Face”
a face which God molded and given a love
a new technology ruined, unloved
tattoos as art spreading onto
earrings anywhere hung too
nor make-up brush coarse
with different colors
with different styles
to make beautiful
think so beautiful in front of the mirror
cut-off the fats
surgical can patch
wearing a technological face
could change the very good behavior
into a worsen one
looking other’s from head to foot
seems like never been ugly like moth
insults, bully, were worn
are you not contented?
still undergo technological wasted?
surgical needed?
nor skin removed?
do you think you are beautiful
changing what God has given?
i wish you could change your life
your bad manners in a minute as how
you change your face
i would rather love your ugly face
wearing your beautiful heart
in front of the mirror you are loved
rather than having your transformed surgical face
wearing no love but full of insults
in front of the mirror you are dead
because you don’t have love
you don’t love God
because if you does,
you are good
you won’t transformed into a technological face
you won’t waste money and time
you won’t waste your face
you won’t waste your life
you won’t waste God
Autobiography of a Face
These are the eyes that never cried
When he died,
But cried for him since
To give the soul a good rinse.
Recently they demanded equal rights,
This pair of eyes,
After one began to whinge
About being hidden by a grown-out fringe.
The nose,
That was compared to a ski slope at school,
(Kids can be cruel…
And unimaginative)
Was pierced in its teens
And still is today… but now that feels like a cliché,
The fact that it kept bleeding
Never was resolved
And it remains really very needy
It hasn’t evolved.
The freckles across the nose and cheeks
Are a recurring theme that creeps
Through the years like a dream
Fading in and out
Without anyone ever really knowing what they’re about…
And then there’s the mouth
(If you carry on South)
Which in only its second year
Yelled out grace
Loud and clear, for all to hear
In a crowded café,
And is still prone to do whatever it likes
Even today
Regardless of social graces
Or whether the words are escaping at the appropriate times or places.
(c) Gemma Hinton 13/06/15
The Robbery (Hour Ten)
It’s like after a robbery
Of a grand house.
A life is there, but pieces are missing.
They took almost everything.
I am left with so many odds and ends.
And the important things,
I go to where I kept them,
And there are just empty places
Where they sat and assured functionality,
Efficacy.
Now I wander empty corridors
Where paintings are missing.
I am looking for things I need.
But they are gone,
And will be gone still tomorrow.
There’s no getting back what is lost.