Uncle Gay Dave courtesy of

Dave A. Boucher

A very important work, >> Carol Weston...>> >> D. A. doesn’t just open doors, he kicks them down, >> Ryan Travis...>> I was blown away, >> Rose Gonzalez

Uncle Gay Dave reveals a serious and sensitive person coming into the light of his own existence. The poetry is graphic and honest and the reader believes everything he reads did happen, if not to the writer to somebody at some time. The only criticism here is that the reader is left with the feeling that there is a lot more that could have been said and that the 12 poems presented here could be 24. But leaving the audience wanting more is not necessarily a bad thing. - bostonpoet.com

Philosophical (Prelude)
Poetic Overture
Oh, Happy Day
Early School Days
Weekend Pass
Building Defenses
The Great Swamp
Lifeblood
Initiation Flashbacks, Rites Of Passage
Are You Gay? He Queried
For Safety's Sake
Poetic Coda

How can you insult
Someone who's unclear about
The definition
Of the insulting term? And,
Therefore, is it insultive?

***

Flashback to years before
In the beginning
Growing up in white suburbia
K through twelve
School was day prison
Flashback to the present day
Remembering memories flooding in
As I live into my gay lifestyle
The rite of passage into manhood
Wondering, was it only curious exploration?
Flashback to years before
Innocent children
Sitting in a fort of leaves and sheets
I tried to conform, tried to fit in
Faggot! Shouted across the park
Flashback to present day
Remembering childhood teenage years
Memories that haunt me
The rites of passage into manhood
Wondering, pondering was I.....?
Flashback to years before...
 
***

Kindergarten
I had my first crush
On a boy from up the street
Ronny was his name
He went to the same school as me
I sat next to him on the bus
I played with him at recess
I drew pictures of him and for him
I didn't know it was a crush
I didn't know anything at all
First grade
New elementary school
I was the object of a crush
By a boy in my class
Kevin was his name
He sat with me at lunch
He shared his chips with me
We romped together on the playground
I didn't know it was a crush
I didn't know anything at all
Second grade
Another crush, another boy
Another face, same feelings
I could go on and on
But it's enough to say
That by third grade
I'd had my first special friend
And full on lip kisses with a boy, Jeremy.
I didn't know it was a crush
I didn't know anything at all
 
***

School was day prison
Outpatient prisoners from
Neighboring hoods all
Vying for control
Of the masses and playground.
Two O'clock bell rings
Doors are flung open
And happy children escape
I run screaming home
Even while walking with
Sisters and cousins and friends
Body subtly
Twitches as mind recovers
From public schooling.
From public schooling
Education of Real World
It was Real alright,
Real enlightening
REAL HELL! Classmate torturers
Daily tormenting.
Name calling, pushing
Shoving, tripping, beating down
Clenched fists, sneakered feet
Cornered animal cowers
Playground echoes children's games
Dolls, trucks, balls and jacks,
Carefree days of childhood
Innocence alive.
Innocence alive
Our backyard sanctuary
Wildlife refuge
Unlimited space
I am free and easy with
Neighborhood gang. Yards
Connected, we play
Between houses, no traffic,
We ride fast and hard
Scraped knees, bruised elbows, black eyes,
Badges of honor from play,
Happy accidents.
No one was anything, just
Children being free.
Children Being free
No worries reality
Simple desires
Food, Sleep, Play, Comfort,
Mother's warm embrace, Father's
Acceptance and friends
To share life's riches
Abundant in backyards, woods,
Fields, and playgrounds.
Imagination unleashed
Mind's unbound freedom flying.
Eight O'clock bell rings
Inmate trudges to class-cell,
School was day prison.
 
***

By the fourth grade
I was outside looking in
For reasons I didn't understand
Labeled a GayFagHomoQueen
Undefined insults
That cut with a razor's edge
Poison dripping from the blade
My mind polluted with every slash
I didn't know myself
I didn't know anything at all.
I wondered, questioned, why me?
I was an ordinary boy
A nondescript face in the class
Doing my best to make friends,
Be a good student,
And follow the rules.
I wasn't any different
Than any other kid, was I?
I didn't know myself
I didn't know anything at all
 
Taking abuse day after day
Grade after grade
Age after age
Hating and dreading school
Nowhere to turn
No one to talk to
No way to understand
I slowly slipped into my shell.
I didn't know myself
I didn't know anything at all.
 
***
Growing up in white
Suburbia in shadow
Of the swamp. Three yards,
No where to go, just
Into swamp, deep into woods,
Dark mud calling us
Into swamp. Cedars
And maples, eskers and pits
Wildlife. Nike
Site ruins, bays water filled
From the swamp. It encircled
Us, took us, welcomed
us. We went there, escaped to
There, sanctuary
In the swamp. No one
Could touch us, we were brave knights,
Warriors on a
Crusade for the grail.
We were cavemen hunting and
Exploring the earth.
We learned about sex,
Life and death in the swamp. We
Were boys, young and free,
Indestructible testing
limits, splashing through rivers
and streams in the swamp.
Building forts, dams, and bridges
From scrap wood beating
street bikes tear assing
along rough-hewn trails hacked through
thickets in the swamp.
Snow covered hills, slick
Inviting Winter playground.
Skating on frozen,
Brackish water, ice
Paths between trees, shrubs, and stumps
In the swamp. Secrets,
Campfires, ghost-stories, junked
Cars in the swamp. We went there
Escaped to there, just
boys, indestructible, young
And free in the swamp.

***
Innocent children
Indestructible, young, free,
Alive, in the swamp.

***

Sitting in a fort of leaves and sheets
With the boy next door
Four years younger than I,
An eleven year old,
cute and charming youth.
Lounging and relaxing together alone
Talking, joking, and laughing
When he dared me
To touch him, feel him, suck him.
I looked him in the eye, surprised,
He was serious, curious.
I looked down to his crotch
And was suddenly, strangely, aroused.
I accepted his dare
With the condition that he do the same to me,
I don't know why I did,
It hadn't piqued my curiosity before,
But now I was filled with desire.
Flashback two years before
To Weblo's Summer Camp
And a lean-to filled with boys
Twelve and thirteen year olds
Pubescent hormones initiating growth into men.
During a late night game of "Truth or Dare"
I was the first asked, "Truth or Dare?"
I took a chance and answered, "Dare."
"Give me a blow job."
"What's that?"
"Suck my cock."
I gazed at the handsome teen,
Repelled and, strangely, slightly aroused,
And said, "No way! I'm not that kind of boy, I quit."
I sat out the game, watching from my cot.
No other boy was challenged the same
I wondered why I had been chosen
To "give a blow job", to "suck cock"
Deeds I hadn't heard of
Not knowing anything about sex
Gay or straight, not having masturbated
Oblivious to the act's and word's definition,
An innocent at the age of thirteen.

****
Flashback to that fateful afternoon
With the boy next door in the fort of leaves and sheets
A year after I discovered masturbation
Reading porno mags, encyclopedias of sexual acts
And enjoying the thrills of my first self inflicted orgasms.
Excitedly nervous, palms clammy, I reached down
And undid his jeans, pulling them down
His flaccid penis a bulge in his briefs
I squeezed it through the fabric
Feeling it stiffen slightly, I removed his skivvies
Exposing his uncircumcised cock at half mast
The head beginning to peep from the foreskin.
I touched him, felt him, caressed him,
His member becoming hard in my hand.
I bent down and licked the head, tasting his flesh,
Before taking it into my mouth, making him harder still.
It felt natural and I instinctively knew what to do,
Gentle kisses, tongue lashings, and deep throat dives,
Massaging his balls with my hand.
I reveled in the ecstasy,
My own penis growing harder every moment
Straining against my pants
Desiring to be set free.
 
Flashback to that moment
Many times since
Crystal clear memories
Dance across my muddy mind
And I wonder and question again and again
It was a new experience
That felt like I'd done it before
Comfortable, natural, and right.
I didn't realize the meaning of the act
I didn't know its ramifications
Only knowing that it felt oh, so good to do
And I did it willingly
Hungrily devouring this boy's manhood
My tongue dancing and fluttering
Up and down his young, smooth shaft
Pubescent peach-fuzz tickling my lips and gums
As I took his balls into my mouth.
My dick was hard and ready to explode
I undid my dungarees to relieve the pressure
While sucking my first cock,
Naturally swallowing my friend's orgasm,
And coming in his mouth
When he did the same to me
Flashback to the present day
Looking back now, remembering,
The many times we went down
Masturbating, pleasuring each other
I wonder, was it experimentation or molestation?
I was fifteen and naive
he was eleven and curious
I was in ninth grade, he was in sixth
Our sex education from friends and magazines
He initiated the first time with a dare.
I initiated the rest with porno mags
We did it whenever we were alone
Secretive about our actions
Careful not to be caught
In our off-sided sex affair
I gave, he received
Occasionally reciprocating
Sometimes reluctantly.
I was seventeen and he was fourteen
When he put an end to the trysts
With the final statement,
"No way! I'm not that kind of boy, I quit!"
And we went our separate ways.
 
Flashback to the years since
We didn't speak of the secret trysts
Didn't acknowledge that it happened
Didn't mention it to anyone
And still I wonder, was it experimentation or molestation?

Flashback to the present day
Remembering, memories flooding in
As I live into my openly Gay Lifestyle
Wondering, was it merely curious exploration,
Or was I a teenage pedophile?
Flashback to the initiation
The Rite of Passage into manhood
Experimentation, education, molestation,
The memories, the questions, the answer,
I was a cluelessly budding, gay teenage boy.
No worries, mate, no worries.

***
 
"Faggot!"
Shouted across the high school parking lot at me.
I am immediately insulted,
But I couldn't say why,
Tired and fed up of the slur,
One of many that I'd been called since elementary school,
I shout back, "It takes one to know one!"
Continuing on my way.
Only to hear,
"What's that supposed to mean?!?"
Angrily asked directly behind me.
I turn to find the insulter,
Who had run after me,
Breathing heavily in my face.
I repeat my reply,
"It takes one to know one."
To be answered by a clenched fist flying at my face.
I block the punch,
And most of the others that follow,
Until the last one,
Which connected squarely with my nose,
And in a burst of blinding pain,
Explosion of blood, and breaking bone,
The light went on in my head,
I connected all the insultive words
With what I had done with the boy
And at seventeen,
I admitted who I am, what I am,
And how I am perceived in this society,
A sinner,
Dirty, bad, and wrong who must be stopped.
And that's when I entered my closet.
 
***

I tried to conform, tried to fit in
Only to be locked out and laughed at
I acted like it didn't hurt
My self esteem and confidence
Eroding away under the rain of blows
Becoming sullen and withdrawn
Behind a happy go lucky façade
Pretending all was right in my world.
I knew myself then
And I hid myself away.
By the time I was eighteen
I was depressed and suicidal
An alcoholic pothead
Still trying to conform and fit in
Still trying to prove myself to my peers
Acting like everyone else and then some
My only goal, to be accepted
To be "Normal"
I knew myself then,
And I hid myself away.
I knew myself then,
And I hid myself away.
 
***

How can you insult...
Flashback to years before...in
The beginning, kin-
Dergarten, school was
Day prison by the fourth grade.
Growing up in white
Innocent children
Sitting in a fort of leaves
And sheets, "faggot!" I
Tried to fit
In. how can you insult some-
One who's hiding from
Insultive definition,
Self evident truths?