​A J Bialo
The Poetry Corner
Welcome to the poetry corner! Be the first to read new poems before they are out in print and some that you will never see in print. Check back often to see what's new. Also, don't forget to check out the poetry archives to view previously featured poems.
On Being Gay
Every major election year,
My hopes for change always disappear.
With this year being no exception,
Time for a bit of introspection.
With the passage of proposition eight,
The state perpetuated legalized hate.
Inner feelings I can’t betray,
On the subject of being gay.
In the year that I was born,
Being gay meant more than scorn.
Locked up and called insane,
Against your will, they cause you pain.
Administering electric shock,
Nurses watch you around the clock.
They do not stop until you obey,
All because of being gay.
Alone in a Crowd
Hidden long before I was born,
Physically removed and to secrecy sworn.
Quickly sent far away from home,
Safely confined and unable to roam.
Staying until the deed was done,
Returning home the only one.
A chaotic beginning concealed with a shroud,
Abandoned by family, alone in a crowd.
Left in a crib of metal and chrome,
Until they can find a suitable home.
Left alone with life changers,
Given away to perfect strangers.
Strangers who quickly change my name,
To make legal their parental claim.
With new records, I am disavowed,
With new family, alone in a crowd.
Although they call themselves my kin,
I never feel like I fit in.
Knowing since I was a tyke,
We did not look anything alike.
Always feeling out of joint,
I always seem to disappoint.
I never seem to make them proud,
Leaving me feeling, alone in a crowd.
Waiting until I’m fully grown,
I look for answers to the unknown.
A piece of my past I try to embrace,
Looking to find a familiar face.
But original records will not be revealed,
For all records are permanently sealed.
Access to records is never allowed,
Ensuring I remain alone in a crowd.
From one family I feel rejected,
From the other, I am disconnected.
Always feeling like an eternal child,
My true identity remains unreconciled.
Feeling I live in isolation,
I ponder my own nihilation.
Living life under a big dark cloud,
Always feeling alone in a crowd.
Coming Out
There comes a time at a certain age,
When I started to feel stuck in a cage.
Realizing I was not the same,
When it came to the dating game.
Try as I may, try as I might,
I couldn’t keep girls out of my sight.
There is no gay person who is without,
Their own story of coming out.
Born at the end of the baby boom,
I was really late to bloom.
Clueless about the same sex dating option,
I blamed everything on my adoption.
Until in my twenties when I met my first ex,
I didn’t understand the fixation on sex.
When your whole world seems in doubt,
Telling a story of coming out.
Wishing I Could Disappear
From the time that I was born,
The loss of my family I would mourn.
For right after the cord was cut,
The door to mother was quickly shut.
Unable to express that I would not comply,
All I could do was lay there and cry.
Crying for the mother who would never appear,
Wishing I could disappear.
While adopted parents try to make me their own,
There are some family that do not condone.
Pay closer attention to your bastard child,
Who with the neighbor kids is running wild.
Make sure she is quiet as a mouse,
While you are living in my house.
Family opinions that I over hear,
Wishing I could disappear.
Being Grateful
From the time of my birth,
Others have tried to define my worth.
Expected to be a compliant blank slate,
I had no choice in deciding my fate.
Never would I be able to mourn,
For the mother from whom I was torn.
On that night long ago most fateful,
Expected always to be grateful.
Told to be thankful to have providers,
Always feeling like the outsider.
Told to be thankful for what I’ve been given,
By those who seem to be jealously driven.
Told to be thankful for their sacrifice,
Which always came at a high price.
Behind your back their talk is hateful,
Complaining of how you are never grateful.
It is very hard when I was taunted,
With the thought I wasn’t wanted.
Told to behave or I’d be sent back,
To the very family that gave me the sack.
Never feeling emotionally supported,
I often wished I was aborted.
At the risk of sounding ungrateful,
Please tell me again why I should be grateful.
Redemption
Redemption is something often perceived,
As something elusive and rarely achieved.
For those who wrong we are often driven,
To make sure they remain the unforgiven.
But what of those wronged by another,
Why must the guilt seem to smother?
We think, deep inside, it's somehow our fault,
That somehow we deserve their assault.
Mistakenly turning around the blame,
Becoming stuck within the shame.
From ourselves we try to hide,
Looking for answers from outside.
Looking to others to make us whole,
But the pain inside they cannot console.
Feeling alone and empty inside,
Burying deeper what we cannot abide.
Until we are ready to face the pain,
A sense of peace we cannot attain.
Guaranteed, without exemption,
We all must find our own redemption.
Masks
From many I've heard say,
Life is just a game to play.
During the game we all know,
Your whole hand you never show.
That which we choose to hide,
We keep closely by our side.
Depending on the current task,
We all put on a certain mask.
​
But does the game ever end?
Do the rules ever bend?
Are there those that we let in?
With whom we can be genuine?
Or has the mask become a regime,
Forcing others to the outer extreme?
For in what pleasure could we bask,
If we always wear a mask?
​
For some because a mask is new,
Opaqueness lets you see right through.
For those who have learned the trick,
After much betrayal it becomes quite thick.
Whether they're color, or black and white,
Their mystery always seems to invite.
But would one ever dare to ask,
Are you for real? Or just a mask?
​
​