GLBT Counseling Hotline

Trevor Project GLBT Suicide Prevention Hotline

Transgender Suicide Prevention Online Chat

Laura's Playground presents the Transgendered Poetry of Michael Uno

i've decided i'll not worry about how dark my writings are. most of what i've written came (come) about during low moments in my life. i hope one day i will be able to write of a happier me, a more content me, maybe even rivaling the positive light in which Doc writes. Until then, some may see their own darkness in my rantings and ravings, and take heart in that they are not alone.

-michael

The Silent Son

i tried to be the prissy todler, dressed in lacey anklets and pinafore dresses. i preferred being a cowboy

i tried to be the “little lady,” during that age when little girls have make-believe teas and carry a life-like doll around as if it were her baby. it was more fun playing with lego, trains and cap guns

i tried to be the giddy teenager, interested in make-up and jewelry, hair-do’s and boys. but i longed for dreams in the night in which i had a girlfriend

i tried to be the mature female, getting a job the world expects a female to have. deep down, i wanted to drive trucks and operate equipment

i tried to be the woman, getting married and being the perfect wife. i preferred staying in bed on weekends in that half-sleep world fantasizing of a woman who loved me – me her husband, provider and protector.

i tried to tell someone what i really felt inside. knowing the consequences of breaking society’s rules wouldn’t allow me

i tried to end my life. but the fear that i would miss achieving my goal kept me from doing so

i tried. but do you care? would you understand? would you accept?

i tried. i don’t think you would have

my addiction

you use drugs.
he drinks.
she takes pills.
they smoke.

my addiction? some would call it the computer.
those people are wrong.
it is not the computer i am addicted to.
it is the freedom the computer allows me in order for me to be me.

i am addicted to the freedom. i am addicted to being the real me.

the computer allows me to live in a world that knows me as a man.
in the cyberworld i can “walk,” “talk,” and “act” as any man , for your world will not allow me that freedom.

your world will not let me be who i really am.
so i live in a fantasy world to be me.
a world that is getting more and more difficult to walk away from.

and to compound matters, in that cyberworld, i fell in love.
i fell as hard as any man can when he finds the woman that can take his heart.

i made friends i call “bud,” and who call me “bro.”

i flirted with some women.
some flirted with me.
other women let me make “cyber love” to them.
and still others tried to get me to fall for them.

my addiction? being the man i am that no one except those walking around inside this machine knows exists.

being the real me.

The Man Inside of Me

you don’t know me
you don’t know anything about me
you only think you know me
you think you know what i’m really like
you think you know who i really am

you judge me by what you see
you judge me by what society says you will judge me by
you judge me by what you think i should be
you judge me because of what i look like
and expect me to act accordingly despite my feelings

and because of what i look like
i put on an act
an act i must maintain in the public eye
an act that is sheer torture
and subjects me to further torture
created by your incessant comparative observations
whether you are man or woman
to your girlfriend, wife, sister, niece, aunt, mother, grandmother,
and any other female in your intolerant, societally brainwashed world
and i can do nothing about it

i cannot fight back and tell you to shut your mouth
instead, i must stand by and endure your comments
i put up with women sending me messages of “women power”
but all i can do is cringe
i put up with men sending jokes of the silly antics of women
but i cannot laugh with them

you don’t know me
you don’t know the real me
you would never accept the real me
you will never know the man who loves to laugh and have fun
who has a heart that society is hell-bent on destroying
who’s soul will never find peace and happiness as you have
you will never know the man who lives in a prison built by society, bigotry, and hate
hidden by a design-faulty body

but then, you probably don’t want to
you prove that everyday
otherwise, you’d let me be me
the real me
the man inside of me

For the Young

i came to this place to ease my pain
and get to know others
who were just the same

each individual accepts me for me
what others never noticed
my new friends can see

but while i regret what i’ve not yet done
i watch in sad silence
the frustration of the young

and while i listen to their lonely plight
my heart slowly breaks
i know their grief, their daily fight

i can only sit here and for them hope
they can make it down this road
and along the way still cope

and one day their goals i hope they achieve
and the roles they had to play
behind them they can leave

Running Out of Time

my destruction is nearing
i can feel it

the time to tell someone is fast approaching
it’s like something in my throat that i have to dislodge

i want to tell the woman i love
i want to tell my mother
i want to tell my brother

but to do so, i am scared i will meet my end
shunned, ostracized, disowned, despised, hated, unloved, alone..

will i lose the only one who’s loved me as a woman loves a man
will i lose the only one who’s love i need to survive
will i lose the only person who’s been my constant friend

time is running out
time is pushing me to this end
time is is crushing me, strangling me,

i have to tell one of them
but which one ?

which one’s love will survive ?
which one’s love will die ?
which one’s love will walk away ?

which way do i go ?

echoes

i’ve always heard
you should not judge a man
until you’ve walked a mile
in his own moccasins

funny how people
quote and rally
and sling clichés about
with no thought as to
their REAL meanings

and therefore
not a care as to whether
those quotes and clichés
can be claimed
as their own personal stand

and so
those quotes and clichés
become nothing more
to people like me
than empty echoes

Poetry Index

Free ScreenSavers from Laura's Playground

Rate Us