Hidden behind the tree till the 26th

Hidden behind the tree till the 26th

I can't give this gift till after Christmas.

It's that little thing I need to tell you.

The one that makes you cry-

or smile-

or angry-

But want to give you the gift of what there is now

or what there was before things changed again.

The image of a little boy

staring at that cake-

taste on eyes

and anticipation on lip.

Letting you hold onto the thoughts

of holding me in your arms

and imagining the possibilities

that come to every mother-father

as the wonder where this world will lead me.

Perhaps it's led me astray

led me to happiness

that I could find no other way

than the way you led

and challenge.

But look at me

and see that the little boy is there

in the coy smiles

and goofy smirks

and the attention getting pretend

that imagination has still left

and inspired.

The light of night

when we lay together

when I poke and talk

and explore.

I still wait in anticipation

the night of the 24th

and now the 25th-

for gifts both received

and now given.

-Matthew Koutzun

Family values

Family Values

We're hiding it again

and picking it back up

from where it started 15-

maybe 20 years

from where we're

now.

Trying for closure,

I'm opening up doors

that were shut

and nailed

and never sealed that well.

I'm building my room

but mostly the door these days.

Locking has worked well for half

a lifetime

only need to barricade it

half more.

I know what I'll keep it in it

from you

since I learned

from the best

how to keep it all in.

I really don't want this room

but I don't know how to live without it

you've assured me that.

With image and spite

and things half forgotten

though fully remembered

in the tempest.

And the wilding winds

whip and howl

and how my house is treating me well in the storm.

But you two have your two cities

when you should have burned your metropolis

and just laid it all down

when it was.

Because these years from now,

with these foundations you've built

hold nothing but more foundations

on the faults you have bore.

And I can't visit these rooms

or your hallways-

because unfortunately I have my own.

Because I want to shut out truth

and mistake

and fault

and hide those pesky things from you

that will deny me your love.

The walls around me

I see you there

through the window

looking in

through tinted glass.

-Matthew Koutzun

Where I'm lingering

Where I'm lingering

I'm censoring for future judgment
and I'm failing to reach artistic merit.
I've lost the confidence I once held
to do it all and not think twice.

I'm gonna break you spirit
and build you back again
to the towering heights
you were and are.

I'm gonna say all the dirty things
and bless you all with all the nasty fucks
and clean clit and dirty panties
and suck cock and flail flicking fingerings.

I want a future.
I want to fit.
I want people to accept.
But know it's hard when I can be so brash.

I want enterprise
and business
without judgement
or scrutiny.

Does this meaning hiding?
Does this mean covering up?
Does this mean bandaid-ed blemishes
and rosy sweet gumdrop cheeks?


I'm striking balance with matches
and burning thoughts inferno
or perhaps inferior
depends on how you read the text.

But I'm shaking and scared of how I'm perceived.
I've taken some blows .
Fixation on image and the structure I've made
of an image that one could care less about I'm finding.

Grandmas out there, I'm not going to impress.
But I do as long as I keep my mouth shut.
So I'm sorry fags, and dykes, and hermaphrodite(ies),
and sufferers, and fakers, and passionate poetics.

I'm hiding.

I'm scared the sky is falling.

And I'm trapped in the shell again.

And trapped I'm finding a way out.

Seeing this dark predicament I'm in.

Sheldon.

Silverstein.

Where the sidewalk ends-
no one saw your adult works,
which read like beauty
and touch more than hearts-
but our heads,
and our other other heads,
that lay south of our belts-
where all out hands linger.

-Matthew Koutzun

A little of both

A little of both

Oh hermaphrodite(y)
with extra skin where there shouldn't be.
You're a labour of God's love and acceptance.
Labourous
to be no discrimination.

But it's the only thing he's been given.

Oh hermaphrodite(y)
you've been given gifts.

The longing lover of equality
wants dick on face and cunt in mouth.

Weeping for you
I dream a day
when we all can be lucky.

To choose love.
And to grind into
whichever sticky parts we wish.

Oh Hermaphrodite(y)
god of both
and a little of each
bless us with your sight
and adorn us with your blindness
each a bit
and both.

-Matthew Koutzun

A Drawn Out Memory- Wrapped on Chain

A Drawn Out Memory- Wrapped on Chain

It's not fair you still wear it

around your neck

like some sentimental thing

given to you.

Make me angry

make me sentimental myself

wrap it around

and dangle it in my face.

What does he think of it

or have you even told?

Or is it locked away

just like I was like some romance novel

given to you twice

and a childhood memory

wrapped up

and given on a red holiday after the cross.

Are these your arms-

these photos?

Are you stretching to say something only seen

and known by you and me?

Do you come back often

to the past and keep it in reach just to keep sentiment there.

how romantic to deny yourself

when you're just denying me.

Is it torture

or device to coil and wrap.

Or maybe it's just a thing

Just a silly thing.

That only I'm wrapped up in.

Maybe things are just things

and I'm reading too much

thinking too much

like I always do

and did.

-Matthew Koutzun

Did I mention I mention I miss you?

That I wonder how things would have been

if I hadn't been forgotten on christmas.

If I hadn't raised a fuss.

Fussy me.

I can only smile because it's true.

And wear it.

Keep it on you if you like it

even if it's sentiment.

I won't mind.

And finally don't.

-Matthew Koutzun

Crossing out the Scribbles

Crossing out the Scribbles

Crossing out soul

again when I write

Feeling silly and ignorant

to evolution and the

right way of thinking

Feeling childish and immature

thinking heaven and hell

are true

Lost in fact in fiction

of other pre-delectations

of what education will teach

Meta and supernatural

I fins a path back through

star and aura only roll some eyes

But free will baby

with religious dependancies

I know it and divined it knows me.

-Matthew Koutzun

Dirt

Dirt

I've stopped bathing

and taking the time

to come clean

The dirt is clogging pores

and probably more

and I still don't seem to care

Growing boils and I toil

on the effort of the shower

the turning of the mystic knob

Steam rising- climbing

moist on lip and teeth

the ooze of it all- water murky

epson salt soap till lime

lemon alcohol

and coming clean

Draining I feel I'm waining

did not realize again

what pure air felt on skin

Cold and random also in tandem

as I stop again

for another year.

-Matthew Koutzun

When I Don't Wash

When I Don't Wash

Stains

and crinkles

and wrinkles

on the sheets

where we meet

and how I don't

take the time

to wash them.

Soft

and pushed

and pulled

to the ground

not a sound

and when I do

take the time

to fold them.

Beige

and black

and blue

on the pillows

heads on willows

and why I don't

take the time

to clean them.

Laying

and lying

and lounging

to the breathing

not just heaving

and when I do

take the time

to recall them.

-Matthew Koutzun