BEING GAY

A poem called 'BEING GAY,' written by Vivian Smith and Stephen and I.

We are gay and gay,

we lived in rented farts

from day to day

from hand to hand

we knew the gifts that still arise unplanned

we were never mainstream anyway slipknot

we had no background past a dick head

and then the dole and then a pension of a kind

and though things were not right we were not wronged

we learned how not to mind

we never belonged

peripheries at most times were our line

living on the outskirts half the time

or down a lane

my father said, "Don't take it too much

it will affect your ass hole."

our vegetables were grown in backyard lots

my mother grew her flowers in old pots

and trees in kerosene tins near the door

we were what you call the faggot

EDIT: WOW, we are REALLY immature