Poetry & Songs
By Grey Forge LeFey
©2022 The Artists LeFey LLC. All rights reserved. Reproduction by any means without permission is prohibited.
Midnight in the Three Rivers City
If memory serves
Was going on midnight
standing downtown
In the Three Rivers City.
If memory serves
Was going on midnight
standing downtown
In the Three Rivers City.
Nobody bothered me
In front of the porn shop
At the bus stop
Not the passing cop
Or the drunks or pushers or street people huddling alone
I was a lumber jack
Waiting for midnight
Blowing smoke
In the Three Rivers City.
Might have been a blackguard
Built like a brickyard
My eyes hard
Keeping to myself but not afraid to stare down those who might challenge
My feet in work boots
Long hair and bramble beard
Such was my armor
In the Three Rivers City.
Made people anxious
Might be a bomber
Could be a Dahmer
Don’t unsettle his calm
Or they all seemed to think rather than ask me for money or hassles or favors or blow
So there I was nightly
Right next to midnight
And a working lady downtown
In the Three Rivers City. And she knew
She saw through my chill
I wasn’t a killer
I was a caterpillar
Wrapped up tight in a denim and blue plaid cocoon.
Hi big guy. You gotta light?
What you’re looking for doesn’t work this corner.
No rentboys here. You have a nice night.
I just wanted the bus
Last stop at midnight
Riding alone
From the Three Rivers City.
I was a lumberjack
My heart was hidden
Entombed in a deep dark vault
Sealed up with endless tears dried to salt
Still refused to halt
The longing for truth and a true love with a rough beard like mine.
by Grey Forge LeFey, 10/17/2021
©2021 The Artists LeFey LLC
I Have Learned in
the Fullness of My Years
One thing I have learned in the fullness of my years
that I will be happy to share with you, my friend…
Ah, well, never mind, then. Be well as you journey on.
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One thing I have learned in the fullness of my years
that I will be happy to share with you, my friend…
Ah, well, never mind, then. Be well as you journey on.
¸¸¸¸¸¸¸¸¸¸
One thing I have learned in the fullness of my years
that I will happily share with you, if you’d like, seemingly friendly person…
Ah, well. There’s that. Perhaps not, then. Be well as you will go.
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One thing I have learned in the fullness of my years
I will share with you, if you’d be interested, not terribly overtly hostile person…
Oh. I see. Well, I hasten to clarify that I have never accosted a mother in such a way.
Go. By all means. My apologies.
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Asshole.
¸¸¸¸¸¸¸¸¸¸
If your ears would hear, young one,
there is something I have learned in the fullness of my years
That would benefit you well, I’m sure, if you would tarry just a moment.
No, I’m not on Tik-Tok. Please don’t call me grandpa. First of all, because I did not sire
your parent, and also because you should not assume that I identify as male.
Now you wait, I hasten to clarify that I have never accosted a mother in—
Well, then go, you little shit. I hope you flunk your SATs.
And GET OFF MY LAWN!
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Hey, there, puppy. What a good fella. Which I mean as in fellow energy construct on
this planet, nothing to do with your gender. Oh, is that so? Ok, then, who’s a good boy?
You wanna know what I’ve learned, puppy boy?
In the fullness of my years, what I’ve learned?
I’ll tell you.
Growing into your own heart is a process that can happen younger,
rather than older.
It should, actually, happen younger, rather than older.
The world would be so much better for it.
It’s a benefit of growing old, sure, but you don’t have to wait so long for it,
and it’s lovely
when it
happens.
But it’s also lonely.
See, when you listen to your own heart
And dance to your own tune
And march to your own drummer
—yeah, I know,
like I’m ever going to be regimented enough to march ANY drummer,
not even my own—!
…you become an alien to others.
You become too much work, too hard to understand.
You lose your value
if your transformation isn’t into a star, or a flower, or a jewel.
Or a unicorn.
Or a goddamn butterfly.
If you grow into your heart and are re-birthed a pine cone
Or a pine nut
Or just a nut
An old, tired, worn out nut that doesn’t fit in any machine.
Even then, you’d like to hang with a bunch of other old, tired, worn out nuts.
In an old can.
On a workbench.
Well, then.
You’re such a good boy.
¸¸¸¸¸¸¸¸¸¸
by Grey Forge LeFey, 03/18/2022
©2022 The Artists LeFey LLC
At This, Our End
I wish I was an old man, my days all lived behind me.
Mistakes all made, my dreams gone gray, no long sighs left to sigh.
I wish I was an old man, my days all lived behind me.
Mistakes all made, my dreams gone gray, no long sighs left to sigh.
For if I was an old man, the strife would soon be over.
I’d burn this hoe, and these sack clothes, and spread my wings and fly.
For half a generation now I’ve tried to make you happy
And yet you cry for days gone by, a life lived long ago.
But what moment were you happy then, that I cannot remember?
The pain you bear is the crown you wear, the mantle that you’ve sewn.
I thought that when the world was new, I’d be an oak tree, strong and true.
So young I didn’t know my own true name.
Then the song I loved you hid from me, you stole our dance, cried, “Leave me be”
And chasing ghosts was what our years became.
I know that this has never been the life that we were promised.
I blamed the man I failed to be, no matter how I tried.
Now I believe that we can live the lives that we were made for
With grace to be redeemed and free. Just trust the changing tide.
At this, our end, I comprehend how long we’ve lived as spellbound
In ill fit robes of institution, expectation, supposed-to-be.
And you, denied your magic, excel in feats of bearing anguish.
No other act bestows contrition. Love, it’s finished, fly, be free.
by Grey Forge LeFey, 03/25/2022
©2022 The Artists LeFey LLC