Two spoken-word poems I wrote one after the other. Accompanied by a Garage Band creation I made for the background
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Story behind the song
Pile of Pages: I was on the bus from NYC to Syracuse. I had spent the weekend in NYC with my girlfriend and was sad to leave her and go back to school. I sat next to a Jehova's witness on the bus and decided to discuss the bible with her. We got into a discussion about homosexuality and religion; I was trying to understand her, but she was trying to change me. So, after the rest stop we just ate our Burger King and she took a nap while I wrote this poem.
OR EE EN TAY SHUN: this is about certain confusing things I've encountered due to my sexuality and other people's confusion/expectations of me.
Lyrics
Who wrote that pile of pages that's lived throughout the ages?
Who calls himself God and slaps his holy rod,
Down on any man that has a plan to stand for,
Or uncover his love for his brother?
Those, "men who lie with other men",
Are still human, still suffer, still lose, still discover,
That love for another soul,
Shoved in a governed hole,
Nervous to surface their purpose, refused from the service,
By a mob of tin-chested mimes,
Invested in lines infested with fine print;
Divine hints, suggesting that we've sinned,
My passion thrives within,
I rival those lines in the bible inside of each fiber,
Outside I seem calm,
But I've got a qualm with that psalm in your palm.
She leaned in to kiss me,
I thought, if this happens, it makes it real.
Lips salty like sardines,
Caffeine in my sixteens,
Nicoteen in my eighteens,
That unclean, unseen routine,
Her obscene ravine,
Can't take it, can't take it, can't take it.
I represent something they tell her to repent for,
Underwent therapy for, f*** ing torment,
Relentlessly lamenting my orienta-SHUN,
Oops, looks like you've found yourself a thespian lesbian,
Fellas are jealous, "but, you're too pretty".
Does that mean I'm a waste, cause I'm hastily chased?
Or that I'm misplaced? Or that they should be
Lacing my drinks with that date rape thing?
Escape straight thing.
Only sleep when sedated, sob when negated,
Hate those related, underweighted, underrated,
Since we conjugated we've anticipated that day,
When miles turns to millimeters, or less,
Now jaded and faded and fated for waiting,
Waiting, waiting, waiting...
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