Human Just Like You.

Remembering the prompt for this one is tough. Thinking it was that I had to write a story of someone oppressed with a classmate, senior year in high school. We ended up writing a simple rhyme with a message that I enjoyed, but I just don’t like simple rhymes. They don’t do much for me. Not to say this isn’t simple, just less so.

I wrote this because I got tired of hearing the word “gay” used as a way to describe things people don’t like. I have a number of gay family members who are some of the best people I know on this planet. Not to mention my other friends from all different walks of life. Love and let live.

So this was meant to have an impact and be pretty visceral.

All you have to do is spend a little time on the internet to see how frequent stories like these used to be, and still are. Marginalizing and mistreating people just because they are different from you is not okay. If it is something they have no control over, that isn’t directly negatively affecting anyone else — they deserve to be treated like humans with respect.

I was also just a fairly angry person at this point in my life. Going back and reading a lot of the things I was writing, I can see why my Mother was concerned about me. I have edited this significantly — the original work needed some help.

Human Just Like You.

There was a boy named Beau,
had a habit of wearin’ his mother’s clothes.

High-heels, lipstick, even pantyhose.

In his mind conflict would grow.
Sexual preference society would sew.

Beau’s first love — found in teenage years.

His name — Louis Stears,
Valedictorian senior year.

When Beau looked in those eyes he saw them gleam.
All he wanted to be — Louis’ prom queen.

Beau had a “problem”, one clinically and clergically prescribed,
in his world he was attracted to men’s thighs.

When Beau asked it took Louis by surprise.
He answered simply “No you faggot! You fuckin’ like guys?”

Beau turned around, went home and cried.

Louis rolled in with a forty-five and a shovel,
along with some friends to help move the rubble.

Louis broke in while Beau was in bed,
immediately the forty-five cocked to his head.

Louis stated “Any last words before I make you dead!?”
These are Beau’s last words this is what he said,

“I may be gay and a faggot to you,
but by pulling that trigger you’re killing a human,
just like you.”

Louis pulled the trigger and ended Beau’s life,
a brave boy who only faced strife.



Thank you for reading.

©2008 Trevor Elms.
Re-worked ©2017, Trevor Elms.
Featured photo by Trevor Elms ©2015, Sculpture by unknown.

Gears of Change.

This was a writing assignment from my senior year in High School, a slam poetry writing prompt that needed to be based on voting. This was in 2008 before President Obama’s election. Really interesting to see where my head was at, and then think about that I didn’t go on to officially start voting until this past election.

Looking back, I think it is the President’s #1 job to leave the nation in a better place than when he took the job. This is not a political space nor will it ever be, but I do think in a lot of ways he accomplished that. I just wish he did better about getting us out of the middle-east like was promised to my teenage self.

Gears of Change.

The river is calm,
it’s about to change direction.
The mountains are quiet;
an avalanche will reshape the land.
The herd is steady,
stampede is imminent.

The gears of change are oiled and ready.

But are the cogs between the nations?
Will this change be of hope? Progress?
Or of futility and shame?

For the billions of stars in the sky,
there are fifty.
Fifty that are on edge.
What will those united do?
To correct a wrong,
To establish hope once again
that the red white and blue stand for
Justice, freedom, and liberty.

We are hated
And lost

Lost to the power of freedom.
Everyone must be free!
Under the rule of, red tanks
White bombs
And blue blazes.

We are disconnected from an infection on the people of the middle-east.
An infection of bomb shrapnel
in a child’s chest.
An infection of bodies crushed
by fallen debris.

Burned bloodied and bruised by a democratic hand of liberty dripping in the blood of 4077 of its own children.

After the towers that reached the sky fell, we stood tall.
Seven years later some barely remember the exact year they fell.

The eradication of terrorism was used as an excuse to render an opinion of evil powerless and gain control of liquid gold.

Lady liberty cries “Welcome.” Somberly as the broad striped doors begin to close behind her.

But the sun is getting brighter.
The river is whispering.
The mountains can hear the echoes.
And the herd? It’s tense.
Ready to stampede into the hands of every person willing to make a change.

And if you are for that change,
That hope.

Bust down that fuckin’ dam!
Scream in the mountains ‘til they crumble!
And stampede with me!

Vote for change
Vote for your country
And vote for yourself.

©2008 Trevor Elms