Descent From Apostolic Grace

As I walked into the bathroom stall,
I felt like Lucifer,
3 MINUTES before his fall (from heaven),

I saw apostolic grace,
As I fell,
And fell,

I unzipped,
My cock beautifully holstered into the mouth of Tyrone,
My nubian angel,
Blowing my load,
And as i came that moment

As I imagined Lucifer’s fall from grace,
I looked into Tyrone’s face,
Knowing our act was illegal on base,
I felt my own fall,
Former Apostolic lad was I,
Pastor Hibbert lied

For if my own unholy act earned me a place in hell,
As I felt my first orgasm,
As clear as a bell,
Remembering that feeling of grace,
As I fell from the face of apostolic heaven,
I’m glad Pastor Hibbert lied,
For the old straight me died that night,
Only to be reborn a queen

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017


Goodbye New York

As I leave the salted pillars,
The arch of the *GWB a piss poor substitute,
I see a bevy of cars leaving modern day sodom

A reminder that the longer I stay,
I spend my day(s) pondering life,
Sans the urban strife,
That lie west of the Hudson

*GWB = George Washington Bridge

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017


As I embark on my daily ride,
Escaping that depressive tendency to simply hide,
I look into the landscape ahead,
My preternatural ability to seek out new things to dread,


Finding that the sun has come out to play,
I find the strength to rise above the New York fray,
And smile

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017

Lessons from Living in New York  (postscript: draft 1)

Remember all,

Never simply the one or two who rested their hands on your shoulder as they uttered:

this too shall pass

but remember all,
of your darlings

The ones who sat with you when times were bleak,
The ones who lay down next to you when the world caved you as you began to freak,
Asking for absolution from the collisions of mental terror between your ears

Remember the ones who loved you enough by rejecting you,
As you turned blue,
Wondering why,
As they drifted into the land of being seen to be seen,
As they preen,
Through the bright spots while masking the penultimate sadness as it lay deep in their psyche,
Because they are afraid to simply just be

Remember the ones who harmed you,
And as you turned,
A darker shade of blue,
Veins bursting,
Seeking revenge,
As you lay hurt questioning why

Remember the darlings who caused you:

1) heart ache
2) sorrow,
3) sadness
4) anger

But also remember the darlings who made you:

1) smile
2) sing
3) embrace
4) love

All of what makes the bright spots in your life ever so bright,
As they made life worth ever so while,
So remember all of your darlings:

1) the good (AND)
2) the bad

For killing your darlings kills the part of you that needs your soul to remember the good and the bad,
Remembering your darlings brings you into harmony with what slips away from time to time,
With definitely no reason or rhyme:

Your sense of self

So never put that on the back shelf:

Remember all,

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017

Untitled #1001 (derived from repurposed Instagram picture)

As Melania stared into the camera,
Pondering the remaining years of her existence,
She wonders why she didn’t marry for love,
Regretting marrying #thedonald for security

Wondering how could it be,
That she married into a family where optics is key,
To be seen guarantees sales,
Being heard however,
Is an after thought so deep in the past you think they brought back the 8 track,
Wishing she turned her back,

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017

Woman (or my truth)

I tried,
My brains were that fried,
Scheming of ways to feign being attracted to you (woman),

And after spending many a night feeling a deeper shade of blue,
Wracked with Pentecostal guilt,
Fearing a deeper,
Scarier place in hell,
One night it dawned on me,
Clear as a bell

I finally get to live my truth,
Not the truths others think they ascribe to me,
And finally be the me i always to be,
And that was when i free,
To finally let the concept of you,
Wide hips,
Pouty lips,
Ample bosom,
As we embrace loving upon first glance,
Into the whispers of events once known into the past,
Finally stepping out of the closet

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017

Observation #106

I prayed for absolution,
My sins a testament to the goal of wanting more,

Only to find amongst the chaos and melodic fray I call New York (HOME),
That as I prayed for absolution and the follow through to ask for it,
My soul,
Wrought with the question of what if,
Upon asking for absolution I discover,
That my sins were never that heavy,
Learning in that moment to forgive the man with one finger pointed at them and,
three fingers pointed back at ME

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017