{"sf1_id":2241538,"sf2_id":"ZmM9Mwrm","title":"Songs and Poems","author":"Corran Orreaux","words":1210,"posted_at":"2025-04-07T05:58:34.000Z","tags":["Gay","Poetry"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/2241538-songs-and-poems","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/ZmM9Mwrm","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/13/d4/13d423dc-eefd-470d-9a80-d9293674e6b7","description":"In honor of poetry month, I've decided to post a few of my poems! I Figure it's better than leaving them sitting in my hard drive. Some recent, most old, but regardless, I hope you enjoy them.","content":"**Songs** :\n\n \n\n \n\n**A Little Gay**\n\n \n\n \n\nThe morning has a rhythm and it goes like “Fuck!”\n\n \n\nI really, really, don’t wanna get up.\n\n \n\nMy bed ain’t soft, and it ain’t warm,\n\n \n\nbut it keeps me away from my boss’s scorn.\n\n \n\n \n\nBut I got rent, and my landlord’s mean\n\n \n\nhe’s why I’m addicted to Fluoxetine.\n\n \n\nI shouldn’t be driving, but I kinda have to--\n\n \n\nbus doesn’t run and taxis pass you.\n\n \n\n \n\nCoffee tastes bad, shower’s okay\n\n \n\nbreakfast skipped just like everyday.\n\n \n\nI’ll make it up at lunch,\n\n \n\nI guess,\n\n \n\nMaybe?   \n A second over 30 and my boss says I’m lazy.\n\n \n\n \n\nI don’t wanna get out of bed,\n\n \n\nI don’t wanna deal with what’s in my head,\n\n \n\nbut if I’m gonna spend my life this way,\n\n \n\nI guess I’ll be a little gay.\n\n \n\n \n\nCaution to the wind, I stopped caring.\n\n \n\nI’ll paint my nails—fuck you, Darren\n\n \n\nPink and blue, enough to scare em’\n\n \n\nLife ain’t good, but I’ll be okay.\n\n \n\nI guess I’ll be a little gay.\n\n \n\n \n\n----\n\n \n\n \n\n**Werewolf O’ Clock**\n\n \n\n \n\nSnap! Crack! Hop and pop,\n\n \n\ncoming down on ya like a needle drop!\n\n \n\nCome on baby, it’s time to stop!\n\n \n\nCuz you. Hit. Werewolf O’clock!\n\n \n\n \n\nFellas, hold on to the edge of your seat,\n\n \n\nCuz I’m talking about the place where werewolves meet\n\n \n\nThey got a thing for the small and love the meek!\n\n \n\nBrother, they don’t eat the sheep.\n\n \n\n \n\nSnap! Crack! Hop and pop,\n\n \n\nComing down on ya like a needle drop!\n\n \n\nCome on baby, it’s time to stop,\n\n \n\nCuz you. Hit. Werewolf O’clock!\n\n \n\n \n\n----\n\n \n\n \n\n**Just Business**\n\n \n\n \n\nAnother damn stray!\n\n \n\nAnother sign away.\n\n \n\nThese boys don't look at the literature—\n\n \n\nCan't read their signature.\n\n \n\n \n\nCold, heartless, and capricious,\n\n \n\nYou might even say vicious.\n\n \n\n \n\nBut hey…\n\n \n\n \n\nThat's just business.\n\n \n\nThat’s just business.\n\n \n\n \n\nMoney don't make itself,\n\n \n\nWe're in cold hard era of wealth,\n\n \n\nand when everyone's making millions,\n\n \n\nYou gotta push for a few billions.\n\n \n\nPay the workers just enough—\n\n \n\nThey won't leave, it’s a bluff.\n\n \n\nCan’t afford food that way.\n\n \n\nRent's due—gotta pay!\n\n \n\n \n\nBut, hey!\n\n \n\n \n\nIt’s just business,\n\n \n\nIt’s just business!\n\n \n\nCold, cruel, and capricious!\u0026nbsp;\n\n \n\nYou might say avaricious!\u0026nbsp;\n\n \n\n \n\nOh, you wanna form a union?\u0026nbsp;\n\n \n\nI’ll get the cops to run ya through then!\n\n \n\nCan’t afford to feed ya kids?\u0026nbsp;\n\n \n\nGet em’ a job in the biz!\u0026nbsp;\n\n \n\nOh, I’m sure they’ll do fine—\n\n \n\nI hear they yearn for the mine.\n\n \n\nThey can worry about black lung when their older,\n\n \n\nBut by then they’ll be a hell of a lot colder.\n\n \n\n \n\n----\n\n \n\n \n\n**Poems** :\n\n**The Mind At Sleep**\n\n \n\n \n\nAway in a dark chamber\n\n \n\nA man did rest his head.\n\n \n\nHe had little as his pillow,\n\n \n\nbut wailing of the dead.\n\n \n\n \n\nHe felt their fingers in his skull--\n\n \n\nA weight behind the eyes.\n\n \n\nHe knew the Devil would be there\n\n \n\nTo claim a distant prize.\n\n \n\n \n\n----\n\n \n\n \n\n**A Deer Named Corran**\n\n \n\n \n\nThere once was a deer named Corran\n\n \n\nHe mweed all day and all mornin'\n\n \n\nHe mweed till they bade to get off the stage\n\n \n\nAnd left the lil’ deer forlor-in'\n\n \n\n \n\n----\n\n \n\n \n\n**Where The Gods Went**\n\n \n\n \n\nThe king of hell reigns supreme\n\n \n\nIn his castle of evil scheme.\n\n \n\nUpon the throne that sinners meet,\n\n \n\nThe old gods kiss his very feet.\n\n \n\n \n\nOverthrown by sovereign God,\n\n \n\nThe highest of the heathen sod\n\n \n\nnow mere servants to lesser power.\n\n \n\nBegging, begging, for their hour.\n\n \n\n \n\nThere Zeus and Jupiter hide\n\n \n\nSplit in half to wound their pride.\n\n \n\nOut of reach, brother and brother,\n\n \n\nJust as they made Tantalus suffer\n\n \n\n \n\n----\n\n \n\n**The Woman in Perth**\n\n \n\n \n\nThere was little I knew—little of worth\n\n \n\nYet I saw you\n\n \n\nThe woman in Perth\n\n \n\nYour clothing ancient\n\n \n\nYour hairstyle quaint\n\n \n\nI felt that I met you\n\n \n\nThough memory faint\n\n \n\nYou spoke in a whisper\n\n \n\nA draw on your lips\n\n \n\nLithe as they were\n\n \n\nYou wanted a kiss\n\n \n\nSomeone to see you\n\n \n\nSomeone to care\n\n \n\nAt the tower you floated\n\n \n\nWith no one aware\n\n \n\n----\n\n \n\n \n\n**The Bing**\n\n \n\n \n\nOh sweet horrors, how they ring  \n In the stagnant death that is the Bing.  \n A sea of ailing inky black  \n On parchment use if ink is lacked.   \n Still, it stands as an old man rests,  \n and coughs it does as if near death.  \n The only reminder it will bring  \n That the sea of Bing still does sing.\n\n \n\n \n\n----\n\n \n\n \n\n**Intrusive Thoughts**\n\n \n\n \n\nThe tapping isn’t pretty like rain against glass,\n\n \n\nor pleasant like the woodpecker’s drillwork.\n\n \n\nIt doesn’t always hit with a smash but\n\n \n\nregardless, it makes noise.\n\n \n\n \n\n----\n\n \n\n \n\n**The Dog Man of the Forest**\n\n \n\n \n\nDon't go out in the woods tonight.\n\n \n\nI beg ye, don't ignore us!\n\n \n\nWe speak of the teeth that bite,\n\n \n\nOf the Dog Man in the forest.\n\n \n\n \n\nOn two legs does he walk\n\n \n\nbut not a man, says I!\n\n \n\nFur shaggy and white like chalk\n\n \n\nAll who see him die!\n\n \n\n \n\n_...Sigh_\n\n \n\n \n\nIf ye insist, then take this cross,\n\n \n\nI beg ye wear it all the ride.\n\n \n\nCarry on in pleasant thought,\n\n \n\nAnd keep your rifle at your side.\n\n \n\n \n\n-\n\n \n\n \n\nI left the town that very night\n\n \n\nWith the good people’s prayers as chorus.\n\n \n\nI promised not to take their warnings light,\n\n \n\nand headed for the forest.\n\n \n\n \n\nDown the path I did tread\n\n \n\nUnder partial, pallid moon.\n\n \n\nWooden cross on silver thread\n\n \n\nwith rifle I felt no doom.\n\n \n\n \n\n_Snap!_ I heard from branch and bramble,\n\n \n\nOff the path and near the trees!\n\n \n\nWere two eyes that seemed to ramble\n\n \n\n“Halt!” It spoke! “Mercy, please!”\n\n \n\n \n\nMy rifle raised, I let it drop,\n\n \n\nAll shock and pure unease.\n\n \n\n“You know how men talk?”\n\n \n\nI asked the Dog Man with a wheeze.\n\n \n\n \n\n“I do, I do! I mean no harm!”\n\n \n\nHe spoke and barked with equal ease\n\n \n\n“I give you no cause for alarm!”\n\n \n\nHe seemed eager to appease.\n\n \n\n \n\nThough my sense of mercy said\n\n \n\nto trust a man who pleads--\n\n \n\n“Show yourself or I’ll shoot you dead!”\n\n \n\nI knew not if he deceives.\n\n \n\n \n\nThus, he did step out for me\n\n \n\nin full moonlight’s shine.\n\n \n\nTall he was--white and black,\n\n \n\nand in the light he whined.\n\n \n\n \n\nWe stared at one another,\n\n \n\na moment short and long in time\n\n \n\nFinally, I did see a brother,\n\n \n\nHis eyes were much like mine.\n\n \n\n \n\n“Do you have a name, good sir?”\n\n \n\nI asked him with a smile shown\n\n \n\nHe looked away, and with a stir,\n\n \n\n“Dog is all I’ve ever known.”\n\n \n\n \n\nWe walked beside—me and him\n\n \n\nand spoke of our two lives.\n\n \n\nHis of wild life and whim\n\n \n\nMine of quiet pride.\n\n \n\n \n\nSoon enough, we neared the edge\n\n \n\nof the forest that he spied.\n\n \n\nHe realized our talk would end,\n\n \n\nand he looked as if he’d cried.\n\n \n\n \n\nHe barked, and with a start\n\n \n\nThe Dog Man nuzzled my side.\n\n \n\nWith a twinge down in my heart\n\n \n\nI held my wayward guide.\n\n \n\n \n\n“My friend, we’ll meet again!”\n\n \n\nI swore as I pet his hide.\n\n \n\n“I cannot say for sure when,\n\n \n\nbut my word I will abide!”\n\n \n\n \n\nUnconvinced, he gave a wince\n\n \n\nIn him a sense of loss.\n\n \n\nSo, before I left, I shook my vest\n\n \n\nand handed him my cross.\n\n \n\n \n\n“I’ll be back for that, I will.\n\n \n\nA promise I can’t toss!\n\n \n\nGod would strike me as his kill\n\n \n\nif I tossed a gifted cross!”\n\n \n\n \n\nSo If you see The Dog Man,\n\n \n\nWho roams through the Forest,\n\n \n\nI ask you treat him as kin and clan\n\n \n\nI beg ye, don’t ignore us!"}