Gay As a Canary
A canary caged within the trap of metal mounted in decor,
Is but a song that’s heard by those unafraid of floors.
A canary kept in the thicket in what we pretend of nature,
Is but a break for beaks in walled-in nomenclature.
Throw the thicket in the metal and melt the two in one,
Into a song sung twice between a broken chance of bone.
A canary freed from cages hung before its wicked glimpse,
Is but a baffled bird before a reckoning of practiced wince.
And a canary led into a cave is but a beckoning of its call,
To warn that which of circumstance that signals fear to fall.
First the fear to fall has felt a need for wired cage,
The fear of freedom which feigns a fall by others’ rage.
Second the safety of open airs seems harmless in its wake,
Yet pins protrude from plains in sights despite its own fake sake.
The third pretends a chance to break from bonds ensured before,
A slave’s own shackles broken by the lies whose fingers swore.
The fourth is but a folly most known by donkey’s who belong,
To those who know the lengths of which to understand King Kong.
To be a gay man is one through four, and my message should have shown,
Fear, freedom, safety, and acceptance are all fallacies we’ve all known.
I’m sorry but I won’t pretend to feel free in a cage that we’ve intended,
Or feel warm within a bubbling broth of brotherhood we’ve invented.
For I’ve been a canary trapped in a cage or led into a cave,
That I’ve invented in my mind as has the transition to a slave.
Cages and caves are but a glimpse of what we must see as clues,
To feel towards those who imagine them, as canaries, and say “F” “U”.
4/12/19
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