Cast​-​Iron Pansexual

by Adeem the Artist

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1.
Oh boys in tight blue jeans are driving me crazy Boys in tight blue jeans with legs that go for days Boys in tight in blue jeans are driving me wild With their poise and impeccable style I never came out I never told my friends about the boys I kissed and could not resist I never came out I know my daddy had some doubts- when I said I’m straight With makeup on my face I didn’t have language for the way I felt Been taught since I was born to other everybody else And If I was one of me, I could not be one of them Rainbow loving boys who chose to live in sin I’m not saying all of this because I’m proud I never came out I never came out I only told my brother how I’d spent the night in bed with pretty men I never came out I fell in love before I ever found the words to say I’m not straight or gay I don’t know that it matters to anybody else But I think it’s important to embrace the fullness of yourself And I am learning all the ways I let misogyny Suppress all of the feminine inside of me It’s pretty sad, but all of that feminine energy is still inside of me I never came out I didn’t think that it mattered now that I was married & settled down I never came out Until I found sexuality isn’t just who you kiss: it’s part of your identity
2.
It’s true that I’m a kind of complicated dame I don’t even know my original name I’ve been changing the damn thing since I was younger A kid with a mixed up head, fervent for the hunger And I’m a baptized, stylized blue-collar boy A poetry, rotary expression of joy Stitched up with sidewalks and time clocks that rattle like thunder I’m a kid with a mixed up head fervent for the hunger When I dream, I dream in color But I mostly do not dream And I have seen God through the curtain when I’m just barely asleep She is holding out a basket full of scones and other treats I’m starving but there’s nothing here I can eat It is true that I have tried on different faces before And toiled over things I’m not responsible for Captured by every philosophy trafficking wonder I was kid with a mixed up head, just fervent for the hunger And I’m a holy ghost, lamppost Poet of sorts A rain drop, machine shop Radio source Sutured with lip gloss and hot sauce and Indian summer’s A kid with a mixed up head, fervent for the hunger When I dream, I dream in color But I mostly do not dream And I have seen God through the curtain when I’m just barely asleep She is holding out a basket full of scones and other treats I’m starving but there’s nothing there I can eat And I’m finding new charcuteries Mix & match until I find a meal that’s suiting me I tire of these spinning wheels Metaphysical combo meals, wholly illusory When I dream, I dream in color- though I mostly do not dream And I can see God through a curtain when I’m just barely asleep And she is holding me in silence, and she looks like me We are the same thing
3.
Apartment 03:18
We are alone in this apartment With an old bottle of gin I am eager and I’m desperate to touch your skin And if I was a woman- Would you want to hold me then? My lips anxious to kiss you Disciplined to hold it in So, I ache for your love But I’m afraid it’s not enough: to ache We sit and talk for hours As I search your irises You’re confiding in a friend About the young woman you miss But I am young and I am pretty And I want to taste your lips You will shortly leave for bed And I’ll still be trapped inside of this And I ache for your love But I’m afraid it’s not enough to ache One day I’ll be older, bold enough to hold your hand Unashamed to put my lips against another mans I ache for your love Afraid it’s not enough
4.
I let you sing in my microphone Tracked your guitars in the dining room We mixed your song until it was late And I asked you if you’d like to stay You had a voice like a morning dove A whisper that whispered to me Welcomed you into my bedroom When it came time to sleep Oh honeysuckle hipbilly homo erotica I shaved my legs at the bathroom sink Bought a cheap blue eyeliner from Walgreens And I posed in front of the mirror To find all the angles that made me look fair You were a soft, stupid serenade Circling the base of my tongue Beguiled by the way you incited me To sing at the top of my lungs Oh, honeysuckle hipbilly homo-erotica I fell in love, It’s indicative of the spiritual way I was raised In hindsight I’m sure, That it meant nothing more for you than a roll in the hay
5.
On the back roads of my hometown I was baptized once or twice By some grifters in a storefront church In exchange for eternal life They said, “You’re going to heaven” Yeah I’s told I’s going to heaven Oh, Lord, I’m going to heaven now I prayed what they said to pray I can’t wait to go to heaven Gonna have a gay old time in heaven Fuck me, I’m going to heaven I made a steal of a deal that day
6.
I was only five years old when your song came out I heard “Should’ve Been A Cowboy” on the radio Screaming from the dash of my daddy’s pre-owned Camry In between Dwight Yoakam and Diamond Rio It was the first of many verses that I memorized loosely Hell, it ain’t like you were Garth But you were one of a hundred favorite artists on the country charts I know this is a long time coming Your mailbox money isn’t gonna go away It’s hard to know where to start But I’ve got a few things to say Your twenty minute song props up Fascists While you brag about kicking asses With a boot in your mouth, exploiting the American South You helped turn my culture into a parody Milking laborers for your prosperity I wish you would’ve been a cowboy, Toby Keith I was only 13 when the towers fell Heard your national anthem rewrite on CMT You were celebrating war with eagles and star spangled anger Spinning lives and loss into stage props and radio plays Well i heard from Lady Liberty and she ain't happy Says you misquoted her views But you were confident and full-chested sitting there on Fox News `There were not a lot of places where a kid like me felt heard and understood But weren’t you sitting in your big house counting your money when you wrote trailerhood? You wore my life like a costume on the TV Milking laborers for your prosperity I wish you would’ve been a cowboy, Toby Keith
7.
She’s pretty as a parakeet, works a couple jobs to make ends meet Selling lo-fi photos of her feet to the men who sit and drink Chain smoking cigarettes, There ain’t a better way to pass the shift And, sweetheart, she won’t take no lip from men who are your kind She’s working in dim-lit, dead-end rooms; neon pits Peddling cheap beer and cleaning messes from the floor Womyn who bartend in dive bars off highways deserve to be given awards She’s pretty as a parakeet, not the kind of woman you can keep Spread thinner than a slice of cheese but still finds the time to drink Chain-smoking cigarettes, She tried vaping but she hated it And, honey, she won’t take no shit if you ain’t worth her time She’s working in dim-lit, dead end rooms; old neon pits Peddling cheap beer and cleaning messes from the floor Womyn who bartend in dive bars off highways deserve to be given awards So sober up, here’s a cup of water You might not remember what you’re paying for Just pay the tab and stop yourself from asking for her number As you walk out the door Womyn who bartend in dive bars off highways deserve to be given awards
8.
Live Forever 02:39
I’m a daughter of feminine wisdom, a son of the American Dream And my friends are addicted to alcohol And methamphetamines On Sunday they wake with a fever And by Tuesday they’re starting to sweat But by Wednesday night, In the backporch light, they look healthy with a cigarette If you got a book of prayers For the folks up there stuck inside the folds of forever When I’m dead and gone, I hope I carry on in some way but you better never Hold my dirt in a stuffy old church, Lord knows I never lived by the letter Just sing one of my songs from time to time Then I’m in a wedding dress on Chestnut Glass-powdered soles of my feet Knotted hair and blood-soaked beard as they’re preparing to crucify me Everybody’s looking for Jesus Or anyone else they can hang You’ve got an awful lot of nerve suspecting the urge of this undead creature to save you If you got a book of prayers For the folks up there stuck inside the folds of forever When I’m dead and gone, I hope I carry on in some way but you better never Hold my dirt in a stuffy old church, Lord knows I never lived by the letter Just sing one of my songs from time to time It’s the only way I’m gonna live forever You just sing one of my songs from time to time
9.
Take me down to Carolina, I need mountain air Got seasoning in the cast-iron and some color in my hair And I could fall in love with anybody if I dare I’m an interdimensional pansexual and I don’t need repair Take me down to Carolina, I need my Tarot read Got a stomach full of barbeque and existential dread It’s hard to keep your thinker and your gut equally fed I’m a Marxist marching on oligarchs and a connoisseur of cornbread I’ve been reading gender theory and attending demonstrations And I have watched my people nearing class emancipation Take me down to Carolina on a Cardinal’s wings Got Guthrie in my gullet, Lord, and a few new songs to sing I’m opening up a restaurant where you don’t pay anything Where the foods aplenty and the friends are many- Won’t you come along with me? I've been doing candle magick & reading Howard Zinn and, while I'm no fanatic, I do believe that what we need is radical movement towards equity & justice to dismantle white supremacy entirely brick by brick by hand together
10.
I remember myself as a boy In the yard playing cars I wore loose-fitting clothes Still feel that obsolete joy When the summer got hotter, and we got out the water hose I wore my shirt in the pool back then I was afraid to be seen I’ve been trying to build a machine That can convert shame into celebration I’ll go back in time and reclaim my name I remember myself as a teen Would just stand near the band with my hands towards the sky Embarrassed of everything Lucky for love received from an invisible guy Stained by generational sins I did not deserve good things I’ve been trying to build a machine That can convert shame into celebration I’ll go back in time and reclaim my name I’ve been collecting spare parts from old cars that are long since out of operation And scraps of old steel, the frames of used wheels that feel tired of personification I’m trying to build a machine That can convert shame into celebration I remember when I was still Kyle The kids called me Cow, even now I grind teeth Grandma said that I looked fat From her perch on the porch looking side-eyed at me I wish I could visit that memory now And give him a set of the keys To a makeshift and duct taped machine That can convert shame into celebration We could dance to the music it screams In a cacophonic orchestration

credits

released March 5, 2021

Songs all written & performed by Adeem Maria except "I Wish You Would've Been A Cowboy" which was co-written with poet Summer Awad

this whole thing was recorded, produced, mixed & mastered by Adeem Maria.

Artwork by the otherworldly Jimi (www.patreon.com/jimikat)

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Adeem the Artist Tennessee

Adeem is a seventh-generation Carolinian, a makeshift poet, singer-songwriter, storyteller, and blue-collar Artist.

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