Confessions of an Online Male Prostitute

Confessions of an Online Male Prostitute

A novella available in print and as an eBook by going to Amazon

at Confessions

Your Silent Scream

 

Your Silent Scream

 

You smile so nice,

But I see the scream in your eyes,

That silent scream of lies,

Did you tell your ma?

Did you tell your pa?

Did you tell your bro, your sis?

How about your significant other?

Or your spouse,

Do you worry,

Do you think they see?

That silent scream in your eyes,

The truth you don’t want anyone to see,

The truth not even you want to see,

And you can’t close your eyes,

Because then you see,

What you don’t want anyone to see,

You don’t want anyone to see you,

With your legs spread wide,

Allowing a stranger to enter,

With scalpel and forceps,

Digging away, starting to destroy,

The life you were caring,

The life you had no intention of sharing,

Now gone, now dead and gone,

And now you ain’t so sure,

The one you got rid of,

Might have been, could have been,

The one, maybe the only one,

Who would have loved you completely,

Who would have done anything for you,

Who would have looked into your eyes,

To see all the love in you.

I am not junk

 

I Am Not Junk

 

I am not junk,

You are not junk,

No one is junk,

We are gloriously made,

In the wombs of our mothers,

We have glorious eyes,

To see the beauty around us,

We have glorious ears,

To hear music and the voices,

Of those who love us,

We have glorious noses,

To smell the flowers,

We have glorious bodies,

With glorious sexual organs,

To love and make more of us,

Our sexual organs are not junk,

They are beautiful to the beloved,

We have glorious arms to hold,

Our loved ones close.

We have glorious hands,

To work with to do good,

We have glorious legs and feet,

To get us where we need to go,

We have glorious brains to dream,

To dream of doing good or evil,

To do good or evil,

To do what is right or wrong,

To turn us and the world into junk,

Or turn us and the world into something glorious.

A Lighted Cigarette Begins To Burn

 

A Lighted Cigarette Begins To Burn

 

A lighted cigarette begins to burn,

In the quiet darkness of my room,

While somewhere a baby is born,

And somewhere a baby is aborted,

Someone makes love with someone,

Someone makes love with themself,

Someone kills someone,

With a knife, with a gun, with hands,

Does it matter how one kills or is killed,

Someone joins the army,

Someone who joined the army comes home,

Some come home in caskets,

Some come home in wheelchairs,

Some never come home,

Does it matter,

What does it matter,

A woman cries, a man cries, a child cries,

A woman laughs, a man laughs, a child laughs,

Does any of this matter,

Do I matter,

Do you matter,

What does matter is words stashed and smashed between,

When a lighted cigarette began to burn and when,

A lighted cigarette is extinguished with useless thought.

 

Many years ago in high school for the school’s literary magazine, I published in it a poem I titled “A Lighted Cigarette Begins To Burn.”

Over time the magazine and my poem were lost, as was my yearbook.

What I wrote above was just a fond remembrance of an early effort.

By Peter Klein, author of his recently published poetry book: “Creation Dream.” If I publish another, maybe this will be part of it.

Thanks for tanking the time to read this.

Video for Creation Dreams

Creation Dreams by Pete Klein

 Creation Dreams by Pete Klein

Creation Dreams is a book of the thoughts, feelings, opinions of the author presented in the form of free verse poetry.

It is an invitation to think, ponder, look at what you might consider settled in a new light.

Dreams as has been said, are the stuff men and women are made of.

Click on the link to purchase from Amazon.

Creation Dreams

Dreams Past, Present, and Future

 Dreams Past, Present, and Future

Dreams, dreams, dreams, nightdreams, daydreams,

Dreams of the past, present, and future,

Merged into one dream, a beautiful dream of life, love, death,

I dream of the America I once loved without reservations,

I believed in the American Dream,

The shiny city on the hill, not Capitol Hill,

The city of persons on the hills, mountains, valleys, plains,

The city of the people made up of persons,

Individuals who think and act responsibly,

Individuals free from government oppression,

I dreamed of those who came before me,

I dreamed of the Native Americans and all who came here,

From Europe, Africa, Asia, the Middle East,

All who came to escape war and oppression,

All who died in their fight for freedom,

I dream of the present built on past dreams,

I dream of the farms and factories that made this country possible,

I have nightmares of how we sell it and give it away for profit,

In God we stopped trusting and demand all pay in cash or life,

The dreams of Walt and Woody trashed by Congress,

Sold by Wall Street,

Dreams maintained by sex, drugs, alcohol, virtual reality,

All dreams going, going, gone into the future,

But what future?

A future of hope or despair?

Is there time to save America or will it go the way of Rome,

Eating itself alive in its lust for world domination,

Dominating its people, destroying them with law and more law,

Cold law, vicious law, obey, obey, obey,

Submit for the greater good,

I hope, dream of a new beginning,

Dreams can come true if you learn to believe,

What say you?