I remember catching glimpses of it growing up,
brazenly displayed on the shelves of little indie book shops –
a title so queer and unapologetic my pulse raced.
the covers graced by models captured raw/hairy/nude and always smiling unabashed.
long before I knew I was their brethren,
they called out to me,
artists, poets, musicians, all queer men.
and now that I have grown
the time has arrived like a rite of passage,
a collection of their greatest hits living on the coffee table,
all my very own.
Let your mind roam
to all the places you were never meant to go
all the rules you’ve broken
Non, je ne regrette rien
not a single lover or friendship laid to rest –
not a breathless night lost in karaoke
cursing, crying, drowning pain in whiskey
dancing in the wilderness
wild child running through the city
For that’s the charm of growing up
there are no real mistakes
scraped knuckles, teeth clenched,
notes crinkled, piled up in the waste bin.
half-finished thoughts and ill-conceived poetry
lines circled then crossed out in runny ink,
a once gifted orator with mouth now devoid of the right words.
so easy to emanate kindness, yet so hard to reserve a little for yourself.
every day a battle, finding healthy outlets for anger and pain, healthy ways to feel good,
even if it’s only fleeting.
After all, if there’s one thing you’ll learn (again and again), it’s that nothing is permanent
except chasing light through the endless darkness,
shouting out after love and happiness.
dripping from our tongues
hurt, healed, open
lost in wilderness for so long
misplaced in false hopes/idols
defined and redefined however you please
brought back to the start with renewed strength and a fresh perspective
Bellator ego sum (roughly translated from the Latin for “I am Warrior”) is a collection of over thirty original poems. It was originally published on Blurb.com in August of 2015. The re-release contains new material (including poems that have been posted here).
Support this indie author, buy a copy!
although, I have to let you go,
We’ve been together since …16?
wild young thing,
and you holding me,
caressing the night air like silk.
Every time we’re together
choke on nothing,
s p i n n i n g,
Don’t cry my dear,
this is our sweet end.
(Tom Pearce, Photographed by: Yours Truly)
Curiosity gets the better of us, a barbed fence away and we’re hand in hand running out in the open,
Plains melting into the rockformations, feet melting into the plains.
Bees nests, prickly grass, snake holes, and not much else for miles,
Untouched by greed and unnecessary cruelty,
can’t stand still,
like streams, rivers, oceans all across our mother earth,
we’re mostly salt, water, and clichés spilled softly over coffee and a scone.
can’t stand still,
can’t be tied to titles, when you crave the time to roam –
all the galleries in the city, in Cologne, Paris, Rome,
couldn’t feed your appétit pour l’art.
just you and your lover,
alone on the open road,
can’t stand still.