Kenneth Pobo writes about life, politics and sexuality with precision and passion, combining subtle humour with furious anger. The poems in Fitting Parts expertly expose the hypocrisy of the religious right, while serving as a wakeup call to any liberals who believe bigotry no longer exists.
I Don’t Like Thinking
I don't like thinking
I'm better than a bee,
a muskrat, an antelope,
or even a stony cliff. At least
they don't worry about cars,
banks and bad haircuts. I’d
like to bound about like a bee,
find new bud addresses. Oh,
to swim like a muskrat,
sleek between lily pads.
As for antelopes, how
wonderful to truly be
home on the range. Stony
cliffs grab the best
skyscapes. So why get
proud because I'm part of
a group that stabs lawns
with pink flamingos, that makes
countries,
that makes war?
Unprinted Obituary
As Steve grew he learned how to hide
so well that by the time he was
sixteen, nobody could find him.
He knew he was what he denied
but found ways to fake it because
truth created torture. In gym,
he laughed at jokes they told about
kids like him. Hatred didn't doubt,
Steve turned himself into a lie
to satisfy them, hoped to die,
hoping his death could stop the threat
of violence. He hid so well,
but felt that everyone could tell.
Break It Break It Break It
Melanie's neat, singing
"Silence Is King Around Here."
It sure is, unless you're speaking up
for churches
and family values (nobody
knows what they are, but
the term costs me my rights).
Sharpshooter Congressmen
have me in their sights. I'd
like to be silent,
to shut up, so I could
raise hollyhocks and shoot
Repub heroin. Then
would I be moral enough? Would
I have values? Nope. Faggots
by definition have no value.
Admit us to cemeteries,
not barbeques, unless
of course, we're the main course.
Silence
is king, but many queens
are speaking out.
