11:30 in the morning on pennsylvania avenue
she was writing when i sauntered over
she said, girl i almost didn’t recognize you
and we didn’t kiss and we didn’t linger
we pushed the situation away with our eyes
when i asked her what she’s been writing
she said, the 40 different ways we could say goodbye

and she’s got 1000 holes in her heart
and she’s tried to complete it with 1000 men
and just like a suitor i stepped right up
and attempted to make it whole again
and i’d think there’s no other when i am her lover
i can make her gasp and reach for the sky
but i’m just an extra in her film
i’ll never be the lead but i’m sure as hell gonna try

we were sitting facing the ocean
i could hear the sound of the ice in her drink
and i softly cursed the silence
cuz we’ve already had way too much time to think
and she tells me that she’s in love with this boy
i know that she’s lying from her touch
but she can’t break and say that she wants me
cuz admitting it aloud would hurt too much

chorus

she justifies being apart by calling it discipline
but isn’t it so much more exciting when it’s a sin
i’m not the one that she’s looking for
but i know she wants me anyway
so i want her to go ahead and take it all
cuz being polite was never her forte

chorus

All songs written by Melissa Li © 2008.

i held her hand at midnight
i never seen her this clear before
i brought her close so i could see her in the light
as she bled all the way to the dance floor
she said, i gave men everything i had
they took me to bed and dirtied my name
and the women drove me crazy in a shiny red cadillac
i guess these people are just all the same

they stepped on her again and again
they tore her apart for their own gain
they took out her art and made things dark
and created stuff like artificial rain

oh and i said, come dance with me america
spin with grace in my embrace
don’t take the blame for the work of men
just show me how to dance your dance again

they got ridda your mirror lakes and dandelion toys
they made angry adults from all the happy girls and happy boys
they put a price tag on every mountain and tree
they issued everyone a guidance counselor called a tv
though they haven’t yet torn down the sky under which we sleep
they’ve already figured out how to clone your sheep
mcdonald’s will sell beauty products pretty soon
and someday they’ll try to commercialize the moon

foreigners say, girl you think you’re so tough
you flirt with us and then you stab us in the back
you take, take, take cuz it’s never enough
and she says, hey it ain’t me who’s doing that

come dance with me america
you’re so divine, oh won’t you be mine
don’t take the blame for the work of men
just show me how to dance your dance again

these happy white family folks who call themselves patriots
who live warm and fat wrapped inside the land of the free
they learn their dollar signs, their superbowls
the boy scout honor code
then sell their red, white, and blue for a dollar a piece
and what is true is on the movie screen
hero, villain, bystander, she’s been ‘em all
the way that we see her is not the way that she’s seen
it’s tragic to see this great heroine fall

let’s run a deus ex machina by
i won’t let her be scared tonight
don’t be discouraged and don’t be shy
cuz i’m here to protect ya with all my might

come dance with me america
you’re so divine so won’t you be mine
don’t take the blame for the work of men
just show me how to dance your dance
come dance with me america
i’ll make it true that they won’t get to you
don’t be disturbed by the noise of men
just show me how to dance your dance again

All songs written by Melissa Li © 2008.

they say i ain’t pretty enough to be on tv
they say i ain’t pretty enough to be on tv
but i got a girl by my side who still wants to be with me

they say i ain’t rich enough to make movies
they say i ain’t rich enough to make movies
but i don’t like special effects, i just want to tell a story

they say i ain’t loud enough to be a rock star
they say i ain’t loud enough to be a rock star
but hey ain’t you sitting there listening to this song?

would you rather i grow up at the top of my class
running a business online myself and really liking math
working for microsoft and meeting my chinese american boyfriend
getting hitched in new york city then settling down in long island
would you prefer that i go quietly and shed my dreams and shed my desires
would you want me to stop questioning life and stop lighting fires
and would you want me to stop visiting that dyke next door
would you appreciate it if i didn’t talk to those black kids anymore
and i don’t understand why you’d want me that way

they say i ain’t white enough to be who i am
they say i ain’t white enough to be who i am
but i know someone will hear me and i know someone will understand

they say i ain’t pretty enough to be on tv
they say i ain’t rich enough to make movies
they say i ain’t loud enough to be a rock star
they say i ain’t loud enough to be a rock star

All songs written by Melissa Li © 2008.

so what, i’m soft as a fluffy pink marshmallow
yes and i squish when you push, and stretch when you pull
and i’m sheltered and i don’t know any better
it’s true, i’m kinda dense
and i’m filled with cliches and catch phrases that don’t make any sense

so don’t be disillusioned by my song
this little wooden instrument is fun to strum on
i’m small and i’m scared so i’m just singing along
it’s the only time i can pretend to be strong

i’m in your face, you got a problem?
better not, or i’ll kick your butt
watch my anger unfurl like i’m some militant girl
who’s got a fire within her gut
but the truth is i’m scared of thunder and lighting
and i’m scared of getting my ears pierced
and i’m really not that angry and i’m really not that fierce

chorus

i’m not wild
i’m not bold
i wanna live with my lover
till we both grow old
i want a quiet life, free from regret
something so simple
anyone would forget

so turn off that spotlight, i’m just an ordinary girl
who’s singing her little ordinary song
although i’m still trying to change the world
it’s the only time i can pretend to be strong
i’m just only tryin’ to be pretend to be strong

All songs written by Melissa Li © 2008.

i’m 2 seconds away from heaven
and falling off the face of the earth
i got beer and my guitar as company
and ‘hypocrite’ written on the back of my shirt
this halo’s getting so uncomfortable
mind if i take it off for a while?
but in the back room they’re taking mug shots
damn but i’ve forgotten where i’ve put my smile

cuz sometimes i daydream about
everything i
everything i want this to be
but then i get all worked up by
the promise breakers, heartbreak makers
that all came before me
c’mon baby let’s start over again on 1 2 3

i’m 2 seconds away from heaven
so won’t you just unlock that gate
my backpack’s torn and my shoes are worn
and i really need a place to stay
yeah, i been traveling without a dime
yeah, i been traveling alone
i know i came 2 minutes after closing time
but do you really have the heart to send me home?

chorus

i’m 2 seconds away from heaven
that’s 2 seconds close, and 2 seconds far
and in these 2 seconds i’ve forgotten how to write
shit, and i’ve forgotten how to tune my guitar
so i’ll play you this song with these words as my guide
so b major better be my saving grace
cuz out of all these suckers lined up outside
i’m the only one who really wants to get in this place

chorus

all i got is half a cigarette
cuz i quit in the middle of smokin’ it
and the only thing consistent is my trust
in my candle of a heart that you have lit
and cusp is such a dirty word
teetering between two realities
i feel like a bimbo being in limbo
so reel me in and set me free

i’m 2 seconds away from heaven
and i’m starting to feel a little jaded
and this bodyguard steps up and looks at me
says, sorry ma’am but heaven’s been relocated

and i used to daydream about
everything i
everything i want you to say
but ain’t it a better ending
that i never made it, that it’s overrated anyway
cut, stop, pause, rewind, and replay
so now i still daydream about
being with you
being with you in heaven today
but if you still think you believe
it’s moving too fast for it to last so i’d best be on my way
but babe i’d start all over again to get 2 seconds away

All songs written by Melissa Li © 2008.

mr. mighty in his big blue cape flies over the city
the grid on the streets and the pale grey clouds
make the skyline so pretty
and i’m just a little asian girl with her acoustic guitar
riding off to serenade somebody in my mom’s miniature car

cuz my cape is my denim jacket, so i’m in disguise all the time
i’m running around shooting bullets of truth
from town to town fighting crime

mr. mighty he will travel all night and never get tired
1 by 1 he saves the women from the buildings on fire
and i can’t save her from danger and i get sleepy when it’s late
but the only thing i can beat mr. mighty at
is my ability to relate

cuz my song is her comfort, yeah
when her hands are calling for help
they’re begging me to set her free
i don’t need no x-ray vision to tell

mr. mighty has by his side his prize supermodel
and who would ever know that women’s skin tone
came in a bottle
and you don’t impress me more or less
by looking like a doll
cuz if you said something cool and broke all the rules
then god, i’d love you all

cuz lipstick is overrated and eyeliner smudges your name
cuz what’s the point of looking pretty
when everyone looks the same?

mr. mighty is bigger
he uses his powers to do all he can
but he can never do everything
cuz mr. mighty’s a man
and girl i know just how you feel
that’s why i put up this fight
for everything wrong they’ve done to us
we’re trying to do something right
for you
for me

cuz i’m your dorky superhero
and you’ll never remember my face
but girl, i hope someday you’ll place
my music in your medicine case

All songs written by Melissa Li © 2008.

you’re sitting there complaining ’bout there’s nothing you can do
how the assholes who control this world have boiled down to two
the white man on the left
and the white man on the right
and i don’t wanna hear you bitch and i don’t wanna hear you moan
then see you sit there thinking everything will work out on its own
you can’t say the world is shit
and never even fight for it
a new kind of anger boils like i’ve never felt before
have we really reached a point where no one gives a shit anymore
it’s a sad state of affairs when nobody cares

now i’ve started playing but nobody’s singing
my music calls to you so baby won’t you join
cuz we don’t need the guns, all we need is our voice
and my little red guitar is my weapon of choice

the radio conglomerates control most my brain
to the point where catchy dollar tunes are driving me insane
keep feeding you the cliche that everything is a-ok
and tv ain’t much better cuz it’s all owned by viacom
you want to buy an suv every time you turn the tv on
it’s all as bland as sepia
we got to free the media

chorus

mtv pushes bimbos who can sing
but ain’t it just a waste of time if you’re not saying anything
i have to confess you’re just a whore of the press
and there are poets on the street
who don’t understand their full potential
that everything they have to say is really quite essential
to the growing of a nation
the voice of a generation

chorus

All songs written by Melissa Li © 2008.

i’m attending a wake in a room full of flowers
and people with red, swollen eyes
and just for the sake of what used to be ours
i showed up to say my final goodbyes
in the corner you sat, still and silent
with an empty gaze and a lump in your throat
as you contemplate this death, so violent
the gun is still nestled inside of your coat

and one shot that ended our history
murdered our joy and slaughtered our misery
tell me, was it worth it the blood that we drew
cuz inside that casket is what used to be me and you

friends are patting my shoulder and saying
at least it’s had a blissful existence
but that doesn’t comfort me, no i’m just praying
its journey to heaven is a short enough distance
another awaits, another time, another place
but a love like ours doesn’t come very often
you walk past the gate, and the sun hits your face
while i’m still crying and clutching this coffin

chorus

All songs written by Melissa Li © 2008.

you are like a rubik’s cube
i know it’s nerdy but i think it’s true
you’re 5 sides done except 1 square
you gotta go back and break what you made
before you can ever get there
so give a little tug on a little thread
watch it all unravel in your head
and that big pile of yarn ain’t much of a sweater
you gotta tear it up, you gotta make it worse
before it can get better

and i gave you shoes and dinners
an unforgettable new year’s eve
but the best gift i have yet to give is to tell you that i believe

that everything is gonna be all right
everything is gonna be all right
everything is gonna be all right
and the better version of me will still love the better version of you
and we’ll find each other again at the end
which is the same as the beginning
same as the end

you are not a nebulous mass
oh baby you are not a half-empty glass
in a stormy ocean, you’re a shaky boat
but with a little faith, you’re balancing the weight
to keep you afloat
so do that dance
that little dance that you do
cuz with or without me that dance belongs to you
you knew how to sing before i wrote you any songs
you created for yourself a place that only you can belong

and you know with you
i always wanted to wear my heart on my sleeve
but the only thing you can do for me is to tell me that you believe

chorus

reminding you how much i need you
may not give you much relief
so the only thing that i’ll say to you is that
yes, baby i believe

chorus

All songs written by Melissa Li © 2008.

he said, baby you know it’s really hard for me to break this to you
i said, don’t break anything just follow my example
and tell me the truth
he said, love is like waking up at night, trying to court the moon
you can’t really do it at all if you’re facing the wrong side of the room
and i said, people i’ve fought again are now cheering for me
and all my friends think i’m giving in to the enemy
why are people always ramming their thoughts into the side of my head
why does everyone always seem to care who sleeps in my bed?

and i’ve fallen in love with the moon once
and i’ve fallen in love with the fishies in the sea
and i’ve lied and told them they’re all that i want
and i told them the me that i wanted to be
and they say he’s come to change my world
and they say he’s come to make me a girl
they say i signed off my right to be free
but the truth is that i never agreed

he touched me above my eyes and said
please tell me that it’s not true
and i said, it’s no lie, just cuz i don’t like men
doesn’t mean i can’t fall in love with you
but he turns away and gives me up cuz he’s scared that i’m confused
he’s scared that it’s a dare, he’s scared that it’s a joke
he’s scared he’ll be used
so now he’s found his pretty little princess
before i even looked for mine
but i’m still stuck on his eyes, his face, his hair
i’m still stuck on his smile so rare and divine
and i say they want to put up a wall
and block myself from me and you
they say, it’ll go away if i try to pray
it’s just a phase i’m going through

and i’ve fallen in love with the snow once
and i’ve fallen in love with the ocean breeze
and i’ve lied and told them they’re all that i want
and i told them the me that i wanted to be
and they say he’s come to change my world
and they say he’s come to make me a girl
they say i signed off my right to be free
but the truth is that i never agreed

everyone’s so proud when you’re coming out
but if you so much as smile at a guy
then all of a sudden they’re all in doubt
and i can’t help but wonder why

and i’ve fallen in love with a woman once
and i’ve fallen in love with a woman again
and i’ve lied and told them they’re all that i want
and i promptly told them that i’ll never love men
and they say he’s come to change my world
and they say he’s come to make me a girl
they say i signed off my right to be free
but the truth is that i never agreed

All songs written by Melissa Li © 2008.

welcome to the tranny shack
we got cross dressing, gender-bending, make-up, strap-ons, pom-poms
and cargo pants, heels, slacks, baseball caps, tattoos, piercings, bikini strings,
and hiking gear, stolen back from queers for queers
see, we’re here to erase the gender lines
put the boundaries of sex behind us and well, look good doing it
see, people think we’re a circus ring of drag kings and fairy things
and that statements are our cologne and clothes
and we just want the world to know we’re queer
i mean, why else would we be here?
just god forbid i’d want a normal life, or the right to call my girl my wife
see, we just want attention through our actions and our dress
and we’re gonna try our best to constantly remind you of that
to make your lives miserable, to make you uncomfortable
you see, our favorite pastime, why it’s garnering harassment
we love being outlets for other people’s rants and vents for their sexual insecurities
or just plain inabilities to express themselves the way they want to
see if society’s gonna hold them down, then who the hell can they oppress
we’ll just pick the people who dress differently
how ’bout act differently
he’s gonna wake up in the morning just frustrated he has breasts
it’s just a constant reminder of the sex he was born in
he climbs out of bed and instead of confronting his shit he’s gonna just in the shower
but he can hide nothing from his naked body because this mirror is always gonna be there to tell him the truth in the end
and those fucking boobs, well they’re still staring at him
and he can’t stop staring at them, but he has to when he tapes them down
and throws and undershirt on
i mean they were small enough already but they’ll never be small enough for him
his chest never tight enough for him
so he opens the closet, takes a look at his clothes
pulls on his favorite color shirt, a pair of mens dickies and slips them on
one leg at a time, skate shoes one foot at a time
and he’s off
and today, the lady at the counter wouldn’t sell him food because she didn’t believe him when he said, yes that’s me in my ID i swear it
and today, they laughed at him at the clothing store
and today, they wouldn’t let him into the dressing room without a fight
and today, they drove by and yelled dyke at him
and today, they asked him to change
but today, he said no, today he fucked the gender roles
trashed the norms and went shopping because this tranny boy can outshop all the ladies
and even some gay boys
and the reality is that my friend antonius
well he looks better in a halter top than i ever will
the reality is that some girls would kill for a drag queen’s body
so welcome back to the tranny shack where we don’t need anyone to cut as slack for who we are cuz yeah we’re gonna drive our muscle cars
hike up our skirts to get on that bar stool
break every fucking rule in the rule book
and let all the people know that yeah, that’s right
my life, well it is real

All poems written by Kit Yan © 2008.

in my next life, i’m gonna be a badass
i’m gonna lose my virginity at sweet 16 with the homecoming queen
2 years older than me, i’m gonna smoke weed and cigarettes in the bathroom
skip homeroom, flip off my high school teachers
and then make out with my college professors
and i ain’t ever gonna go to class but i’m gonna pass with honors
cuz i’m gonna pay my way to summa cum laude
walk with my chest out at graduation and then streak
in my next life, i’m gonna eat meat
drive a pimped out rimmed out black hummer suv
hell i wanna eat meat while driving my pimped out rimmed out black hummer suv
you’ll see my face on tv with a different celebrity each week
and i’m gonna be big and buff
6 foot 2, 210 pounds, and tougher than tough
wear big bling diamond earrings and tight ass muscle tees
hell i still don’t think you understand me
i’m talking fucking pierced up tattooed voodoo god knows what
in my next life i wanna be a slut nugget
make every girl wet when i touch her
in my next life i wanna be a motherfucker
literally
i wanna bang a soccer mom who secretly has pussy sucking lips
i wanna pull her hips into me as my strap-on hits her hard and deep
and i wanna be a freak in bed
instead of making love, i wanna have sex
no, i wanna fuck
no more tucking myself in neatly, no more nuzzling necks discreetly
no more whispering in ears, i wanna have sex so hard i wanna taste tears
and slap ass all night long
i wanna try every position in kama sutra and then some
i wanna fuck from the back, fuck upside down, fuck you on your knees
face down on the ground and make you cum so many times that you lose count
i want masturbation, i want female ejaculation
in my reincarnation, i’m gonna be a porn star sensation
be dirty, no more straight up flirting
i’m just gonna command girls to bed, go to bars and instead of talking
i’m just gonna tell them that you’ll be walking home with me tonight
and i’m gonna show you the best sex of your life
and in the morning i’m sorry but you gotta walk back
cuz i’m gonna be tired and i’m gonna wanna sleep in
and you can show yourself out, thank you
and oh, don’t bother leaving me your number cuz i’ll never call you back
in fact, what’s the name of that cute girl you were with last night
yeah, why don’t you tell her to give me a call
but that wouldn’t be me at all
see, i ain’t no badass, just a dumbass
trying to be something that i know i’m not, dreaming of ways to be hot
when hell, i’m already hot
because sometimes you get lost in that dream of anything but
and i’ll never be a slut and i do believe in love
and if given a choice, i’d rather have a big soul hug than a good fuck
and no thanks on the meat cuz dead baby chicks well they make me wanna cry
and if i had money, i’d rather buy organic, i have no interest in anything remotely satanic
but you know when nobody’s looking, i totally scratch my ass
i’ll drink soy milk from the box
i might shop online for a bigger cock and then cut off an old person in the street
and yes, sometimes i still think about eating meat
because everybody’s got that secret side hiding beneath the definition of other
and yo, i may not be a badass in this life
but last night, i fucking fucked the shit out of your mother

All poems written by Kit Yan © 2008.

so my friend jay has this theory about food and sex
jay says that the way a woman eats is the same way she behaves in bed
like miss meticulous, carefully picking and prodding at everything her plate
making sure her tofu steak is cut into perfect eighths
taking time to separate her veggies from her brown rice
so that every bite is the perfect bite
well she is gonna take you like a turtle when you hit the sack
just waiting for you to crack under the pressure of her patience
as she takes off her clothes
she’s got you holding your breath waiting for her next move
she’s finishing you as slowly as she finished her food
controlling your mood like a senior bingo night gone wild
see, miss meticulous will make you beg like a sugar starved child
like an innocent man on a death row trial and as you suffer she breaks a smile
knowing all along that you want her bad, but you can’t get mad or else she’ll stop
she makes you cum like a cop writing you a ticket from behind
she’s got you watching the time as your orgasm climbs only to have her get full
she’ll pull away from you with no intention of making you wait
see miss meticulous takes forever but she never cleans her plate
and then there’s miss ferocious
just tearing into her dinner, eating like a racehorse coming for a winner
she downs a burger in six bites, a salad, and then dessert
and as you watch her eat, you already hurt
she won’t waste any time ripping off your clothes and throwing you down
she’s got you screaming so loud that you wake half the town
see miss ferocious has sex that is down for the count
and while you’re almost knocked out, she’s going in for round number 2
see this woman likes to swallow cuz she really hates to chew
and then there’s the woman who eats really strange shit
like i only eat cream cheese and olive sandwiches if the deli guy removes the pits
she’ll order a turkey club but no turkey cuz it’s vegan
so can you make it with tofurkey cuz i only eat tofurkey on thursdays
well she’s the one who won’t let you take off her clothes
she doesn’t like it when you kiss her earlobes or the left side of her neck
she doesn’t kiss, she pecks and twitches when she’s hard
she likes to have sex on weird shit like in between bubble wrap and red playing cards
or how ’bout the picky eaters who won’t eat things that are brown
or won’t eat things that are unluckily turned upside down
well they probably like to have sex exclusively in some fucking weird position
like only frog bird kama sutra number 4 style
and only in the kitchen
and then there’s the woman who can always eat
she’s got a buffet in the sheets, flavored lube, edible undies
and whipped cream for foreplay and when she’s licked it all away
well ya’ll gotta go out to eat
and last but not least, miss ethnic foodie
see she like italian, dominican, french, and chinese
see this one’s hard to please and she thinks flavors are fun
she’s more down for a threesome or a foursome cuz she can’t have just one
so i have determined that jay’s theory, well it’s absolutely correct
a woman’s eating behavior is exactly how she behaves in bed
so i’m gonna pass on the picky and the slow and the strange
but next time i meet a woman who can down a sushi roll in one bite
well you can be sure i’m gonna stay

All poems written by Kit Yan © 2008.

eh the sand is my ocean
and north shore is the potion that makes mists of salt jump from bodies of water
the right surfers, and 80 degree days cloud 20 foot waves
and eddie aikau tournaments are bigger than blue crush’s pipeline
but you know decades and dawn bring industrialization to a town
that felt starvation during the plantation days
where peter pahoa went pick one peck of pickled pineapples
for 39 cents and paying rent was at the expense of immigration
so where’s the balance?
and dirt roads walk shops where keikis oh they eat shaved ice in the heat
hey i want get strawberry, lily koi, lychee, what you want get?
hey i want get mango the kind azuki bean, with ice cream right?
cuz you gotta have ‘em with ice cream
now these are really the flavors to be savored
from the hanabata days growing up in the islands
cuz its beauty when winding drives lead to sandy beaches
barbecue sweet kahuku corn and thick batamochi
you see i miss those carefree days minus careless commercialization
cuz we get one mcdonald’s, kfc, and then pizza hut
feeding the degeneration of old haleiwa town
and you know courtesy’s compromise is clear
cuz growing jobs bring more minimum wage income
grease local economy and tastier american food for consumption
my haleiwa’s diners and generations of family restaurants
are being replaced by fatter national chains and the lonely surf shops
of the old day make way for the walmart and the kmart
we sell bigger portions for bargain basement prices
so that more people can work, and then more people can eat
and then more people can feast on the nipple of modernization
and we got dole plantations selling more postcards than pineapples these days
and you cannot get to the guavas without passing the keychains on aisle 11
so where’s the balance?
cuz this new wave of sensation to me is forwardly deceiving
cuz we get locals believing that bigger is better
courtesy of hawaii five-o
and then our kapuna fighting them saying we sold our hawaiian heritage
for tacky hawaiian t-shirts, gave away empires of our ancestors
for cheap plastic flower leis, hui keiki
we gotta save hawaii
cutting through fresh oahu air, there are hazy planeloads of eager tourists
paying a sore sum for a tiny taste of manmade paradise
and feeding one kukui nut economy that is on a diet
but if they don’t fly here to buy it then who will?
see waikiki has become a working swap meet, the false identity
holding hand-carved tiki torches and strumming ukelele songs
that everybody knows the words to
it’s aloha friday, no work till monday
a doo be doo, a doo be doo be doo be doo be doo
and here in waikiki every day is friday for an ugly penny
and everybody surfs instead of works and shows luaus nightly, right?
so where’s the balance?
you know what? i don’t get the answers
i only get the childhood stories and the firsthand witness
and the memory of when life was simply the kine like this
so i don’t know
but i get the breeze on my back
a small kine hawaiian salt in my hair
sand inside my slippers and my hawaii in here going
eh kit, where’s the balance?

All poems written by Kit Yan © 2008.

It’s microphone night
and dim lights make for good queeraoke
hey this is my town where feminists rule and old school is cool again
and new school’s got lots of identity issues
but it’s an open door policy in gay old queer nation
so come in with your red black orange green blue yellow handkerchiefs
dangling out of back pockets or wrapped around your neck
with your fag ties, your skinny ties, your tie dye, your cuff pants
your trucker hats, mohawks and faux-hawks, red socks, glass cocks
your hard packs and soft packs, just bring it
and i’m frozen watching as beer fly from bars into crowds
and girl-boys and boy-girls make out while the DJ blasts house hip hop and 80s
yes, house hip hop and 80s
i’m confused too
but at midnight, the line gets long outside
and chain smokers choke on each others smoke outside
and baby dykes find pride outside
while hippies ride their bikes home to compost at midnight
man it is gay here
i mean, it’s queer here
and everything is perfect here in gay old queer nation with liberty and justice for all
but i’m watching as her hand slides down another girls ass
and she doesn’t want it
hey i thought queer people were past this
that everyone was a feminist non-comformist boundary pushing progressive
and enlightened spiritual being
but i’m wrong to think that queer people were born
with an inherent knowledge that push past the nurture of america
but the truth is that we fuck up too
we still haven’t found our groove on the outskirts of society
we’re still using old blueprints with bad foundations
dealing with domestic violence in our queer communities too
and you can still hear the words nigger, gook, chink, and spic at a gay bar fight
you can still watch date rape in mixed drinks under rainbow disco lights
you could still hear butches treat femmes like second class citizens
you can still hear women fighting for voice and taking space at gay prides
you can see trans women and trans guys fighting for voice among dykes
you can still hear other cultures fighting for voice among whites
it’s microphone night
and dim lights make for good queeraoke
but what songs are we singing tonight
when freedom is invisible even among the invisible
hey, i thought we got it right this time
but i’m still spitting rhymes about issues that aren’t dead
and i still can’t read a queer paper without getting a migraine
so we’ve still got a long way to go
but if we can erase the boundary lines between the communities that confine us
then change will come faster
so what do you say
well i say one day we can sing unity through the word world
one day we can sing unity through the word people
one day we can sing unity through the word queer
and one day we can sing unified
under dim lights pride parades of all kinds and through microphones
that preach peace worldwide
in queer nation, where everyone is queering the notes and singing rainbows
cuz that will be the only song to sing at queeraoke

All poems written by Kit Yan © 2008.

every syllable, every word, and every breath is for you
see for us it’s late nights in creation with chinese food, macs, and guitars
we’re playing to dead silence in dive bars while the bartenders take shots alone
we’ll make love to microphones so that someone somewhere will catch a verse
overhear us sing freedom songs on the subway while we rehearse for our next show
so that we can tell our daughters to make the same mistakes that we did
and dream
turn her head from the ticker screen and shoot for the movie screen
see, little girl if you want to, some day you can fight fire with axes
or sing songs backed by symphonies to the masses in central park
that will see past the slants of your eyes and see your beauty shine
on an interview with CNN as the new CEO of a tech start-up sensation
you can run a bank with the same compensation as the big boys
start a non-profit in maine that brings joy to children with cancer
you can be a modern dancer, a poet, the only female engineer in your office
see all of you and more
don’t let the world shut its doors on you yet

stop listening to do what you should
stop listening to for your own good
just turn off that voice telling you what to do
cuz listen, your dreams are calling out to you

you can shine on your own, take time on your own
to find that passion in the hollow part of your soul
make mistakes until you know what you want to try next
see your life will rebound

you might find your passions at the poetry slam in the basement
of the lizard lounge, in the waist-high weeds barefoot at the organic farm
maybe tattooed on your girlfriend’s arm
with a buddha sitting cross-legged on a lily pad
see, this is your path
so go be a mechanic or chairman of the board
win tournaments on your surfboard
be at the top of your drawing, your acting, your painting, and then your calculus class
see baby girl when they laugh melissa’s gonna smack ‘em with her guitar
so go far but write back
we’ll still be here and the world momona
juicy, round, and ripe
so go on and write, sing, run, and slam until your pencils break and the speakers blow
cuz we’ll come watch your show while you show ‘em what you got
so go on until your voice cracks and don’t regret
not one second

stop listening to do what you should
stop listening to for your own good
just turn off the voice telling you what to do
cuz listen, your dreams are calling out to you

All poems written by Kit Yan © 2008.

she opens her tear-stained eyes and realizes its morning
her head is screaming madly and every part of her body
seems to be sore
and he sleeps beside her like a ghost creeping by her
with a sly and satisfied grin
her mind is pressing rewind, desperate to remember the night before
she slowly slips herself up off the tangled sheets of the bed
a little bit dazed, like an incomplete phrase
she stumbles to the door
and suddenly, he sighs and opens his eyes
and with a lazy smile like he’s just been fed, he says,
baby girl i don’t understand what you’re crying for

i’m listening, girl
i’m listening, girl
with a drink in my hand, i toast to never letting us forget
cuz you know what they all say
you asked for it anyway
well here’s to you demanding some respect

it’s 3 a.m. and the university boys are yelling outside
with their lack of regret and the girls they just met
they stumble with beers in their hands
the din of the city is heavy with some sort of reckless fog
so thin is the thread that outlines unconsenting one night stands
we basically live in an 18th century society thinly veiled
the only difference is that we’ve got a helluva lot more stuff
so we should make the choice of raising our voice to show ‘em that we’re tough
cuz what the big boys have given us so far just simply ain’t enough

chorus

here’s to the women who write
women who sing
women who rock
here’s to the women who fight
and to the women who have fought
here’s to the artists, the nurses, the teachers
the athletes, the strong and the brave
here’s to the women who do business with men
and to the women who misbehave
here’s to the women in the army
and here’s to a little bit of defiance
here’s to the work of those filmmakers who break the silence
here’s to the women who run things, own things, fix things
and refuse to be hidden
here’s to the women who love freedom
and to the women who love women
here’s to all the mothers
here’s to all the daughters
here’s to all the sisters, the wives, the girlfriends
and those who just love being alone
here’s to all the women of the world from songo, mozambique
to the plains of mongolia
from the black beaches of iceland
to the favelas of brazil
and to those right here at home

i’m listening girl
i’m listening girl
with a drink in my hand i might as well toast
to never letting us forget
cuz you know what they all say
you ask for it anyway
here’s to you demanding some
here’s to you demanding some
here’s to us demanding some respect

Written and performed by Melissa Li © 2001.

i find myself lying awake thinking about you
and smiling at the ceiling
nobody can ever anticipate
this giddy elation that you got me feelin’
my brain is like a tube of superglue
it can’t hold much, but it’s holding you
so baby, you’re stuck on my mind

you’re so wrong for me
but i’m so right for you
you make me sit, heel, stay, roll over, play dead
each time you’re doing that thing you do
and everybody’s trying to tell me hold up girl
you’re coming unglued and you acting a fool
but still baby, i want you here tonight
hey maybe, you’ll visit me tonight

whatever’s going on, it’s a funny thing
you know girl, there’s no rhyme or reason
you’re pulling me along but we never seem to move
and yet before i go drifting to sleep
i’m gonna always remember to keep
one light on for you

there’s plenty of other fishies in the sea
but they’re not as appealing
cuz baby yes it’s true what they say about me
once you got me hooked i’m pretty easy to reel in
remember when we met, i gave you this address
i said i don’t know you yet but i must confess
yes, it’s crazy but come on by tonight

i got a nice hot cup of tea with sweet honey
got some miles and ella, and billie holiday
i got a warm chocolate cake, so rich and so sweet
and a soft brown kitten wrapped ’round my feet
girl if you feelin’ blue i got your antidote
and a perfect place for you to hang your coat
so baby, oh won’t you stay the night
hey maybe this time you’ll stay the night

chorus

hey baby, come over here tonight
come over and let’s turn off this light

Written and performed by Melissa Li © 2008.

gender should be as simple as gay or straight
if you are attracted to the opposite gender,
you are straight
if you are attracted to the same gender,
you are gay.

therefore is you have a penis,
you’re a man.
and if you have a vagina,
you’re a woman.

straight shot, straight answer.
gender.
gender is,
man next to woman,
not touching, but separate.
gender is,
america’s controlled nationalism bullshit.
gender is,
birth certificates for babies born into gender,
housing applications and check boxes, and even
getting email addresses,
this is gender.

gender has women shoot you stares in the restroom,
gender has children glare at you and ask their mothers about the boy in the bathroom,
gender holds your hand out and pushes you to the men’s room assuming that what it’s doing is an act of civil duty,
preventing the pervert from violating the eyes and feelings of the poor women in there.

but is it truly worth imprisonment?
embarrassment?
or harassment?
for your gender identity?

so are you a man or woman?
and if you’re passing like a boy now,
do you wanna be straight?
and you’ve changed your name to Kit now,
so you’re straight- right?

but back when you were Laura,
you were gay right?
as if sexuality and gender were something that you could purchase on impulse,
pulling up to the register and carefully picking,
gay, straight, man, or woman neatly packaged for easy consumption,
then you should be able to do it with ease.

purchasing a gold foiled bar of gay, and plastic bag of man,
and walking out of the grocery store,
fabulously onto the set of Queer Eye.
but it’s not that easy.

because my gender used to be,
girl who looks like boy, who like girls.
and sometimes my gender is,
boy who looks like a girl, who likes boys,
and sometimes my gender is,
boy who was a girl, who still feels like a girl sometimes,
but most of the time my gender is fuck you mind your own business.

but it can’t be that way,
because gender is so rigidly defined,
neatly outlined and nicely colonized,
organized, and clearly understandable,
unchangeable.

yet the gap is becoming gendered, and
i’m standing in line for the restroom with,

girls, birls, boys, bis, transsexual, transgendered, queer, questioning, curious, polyamorous, intersexed, flexual, asexual, trisexual, omnisexual, multisexual, pansexual, gender neutral, genderqueer, genderfluid, multigendered, polygendered, androgynous, drag king, drag queen, heteroflexible, butch, femme, fairy, two-spirit, bear, dyke, lipstick, tranny, boi(with an I), ftm, mtf, boydyke, half-dyke, bi-dyke, queerboi, ex-straight, and that’s just the beginning!

but ask a member of the Zuni tribe about the lhamana’s gender,
and they’ll tell you it’s lhamana.
the Southern Asians about the hijaras gender,
and they’ll tell you it’s hijaras,
the Hawaiians about mahus,
and they’ll tell you it’s mahu.
the Americans about the trannys,
and they’ll tell you that they don’t know.

there may be as many as a million genders, identities, and sexualities,
just floating around, searching for the right person,
to snatch them up,
put them on, and proudly parade around in their new skin,
unrestricted by layers and identity, and
limitations of culture, society, and social construction.
this new gender is a function of inner desire, and
genuine understanding of self to be lived.

so go ahead, and show us where the bathroom is.

Written and performed by Kit Yan © 2005.

in the back of a drag bar, she tunes her guitar while i rewrite lines of poetry,
we hit the stage in 5 minutes,
but something is tugging away at the hem of my jeans,
see, i had forgotten how to dream in the days spent chained to fax machines and computer screens i wasn’t meant to sit with,
so we go.

just two kids hittin’ the open road,
looking for adventure in the corners of a handshake,
and the excitement of changing landscape,
inspired by a connection between the microphone wires.
lugging a suitcase full of ramen and seaweed spilling into a been through banged up, compact car.
fuck it, 23 is too young to be scarred by cigarette burns and baseball bat bruises,
so we go.

to find the one times and sunrises to the meaning of meaningful,
too naïve to see it all at the same time, and
blind to a world outside the end rhyme.

so we sling duffel bags while lugging backpacks and coffee taken with laptop,
it’s non-stop from show to city, to city, to show, and
hey, i don’t know your name yet,
but you’ve got a pretty smile and i’ve got all day,
and there’s a coffee shop where we can watch the pride parade,
but somehow i can’t help but feel that i’ve missed,
what should have been golden.

i’m running away with a manila folder overflowing with lyrics.
’cause i’ve stopped writing with my hands and i’ve started listening to the writers who will never make it to print,
we’ll find inspiration in the words of a country song, and rock out to the tunes of a heart beat with a new sound.
giving up what we found for what finds us today.

just like ol’ guthrie
yes he told me in a sweet song long ago
from alabama to montana
all of you i can call my own
cuz it’s my tucson my savannah
it’s my san francisco bay
so toss those worries on the backseat
and drive away
drive away home

every city is a one night stand,
and when i find the right soulmate,
i’mna introduce Kit Yan to Kit Yan.
there’s a hole in my front pocket that i keep patchin’, the passion is so strong that i can’t help my reaction when i hear the echoes of a new voice,
singing like a baby’s first lullaby,
but i’mna let my soul leak through that hole now,
until the last grain drifts into a new state’s breeze,
’cause i’ve run out of thread, and threw away all my needles.

because the lesson was right in front of me the whole time,
saying, that sometimes you have to look twice to really see the beauty,
clear out an eardrum and listen a second time to find the harmony
press rewind to experience that moment that stole your heart for five minutes,

so how can i forget the folks that have cut open,
spilled out, and set free their stories?
to two travelin’ kids playing for gas money in tip jars of donations,
we drank beers and talked story beyond barriers of race, class, comfort, and generation.

so thank you for your whirlwind energy that cleared up the night sky,
because of you, the show was great,
but it’s late and i miss the 2am of Boston,
i miss the Chinatown dirt, and gay bars to dive in,
i miss getting lost in the breakfast chatter of South Street Diner,
so i can’t wait to take 90 into the city my heart swells in when I breathe.

but thanks for a great party, the drink, the fun show,
i know it’s not much, but here’s a free cd, you’ve changed me,
more than the sounds checks, the interviews, and car rides,
i keep your words close on the inside and pile up the hugs until they knock me over and spill onto the screen, and
tonight i still see your head bobbing, fingers snapping,
faces filling up the room lit by mem’ries of you.
so thank you.

just like ol’ guthrie
yes he told me in a sweet song long ago
from alabama to montana
all of you i can call my own
cuz it’s my tucson, my savannah
it’s my san francisco bay
so toss those worries on the backseat
and drive away
drive away home

Written and performed by Kit Yan and Melissa Li © 2008.

i used to think the t meant trivial between me and my friends, too
who cares if i mix up my he’s and she’s just as long as you know
i didn’t intend to offend you
but you’re a blessing in disguise
loving you has opened my eyes

all of our shifting faces came out of the woodworks
in all these different places
i got revolving ones of my own
but we just said fuck it and then we embraced it
take my secrets to your grave
and i intend to keep yours safe
yes imma keep yours safe

cuz you’re my boy
my boy, my boy
let’s get back on that highway
to unfamiliar lands, duffel bag in our hands
this time, we could even fly away
my boy, my boy, my boy
so, can you hear the music now?
your girl, cuz i’m your girl
let’s get our asses back out of town

i love the way montana looks when the mountains are looming
by a lake that is frozen
i am reminded by the path that you took
each time i call you by the name that you’ve chosen
you jot down your poetry
i bottle all of mine inside me

you laugh every time i sigh loud
and dramatically say that i think that i’m dying
i raise a skeptical eyebrow
cuz i can always tell whenever you’re lying
in a language no one understands
we contemplate our secret plans
the world is in our hands

chorus

if someone’s talking shit ’bout you that somehow rubs me wrong
you know that i’ll morph into an angry bitch
who’s gonna make ‘em wish
they never learned to talk
and up till now i never knew that you were more than a thing
we try to define
cuz when the cheering fades and we’re all alone
and i’m steering away 10,000 miles from home
i’m only hearing my boy singing love songs
as we cross another state line

chorus

Written and performed by Melissa Li © 2008.

some choose paper, so that they can recycle it and feel good about helping the environment and mankind.
some choose plastic because they don’t have the time to deal with the bag breaking,
leaking their groceries into the road,
then having to stop and pick them up and potentially get killed by an inattentive driver.
but our people choose plastic because,
the plastic bag is the fabric of my community.

when i was a kid, i remember the spidermans, and wonder woman’s flying high,
on top shiny new lunch bags polyester and vinyl,
over stuffed with good kine lunches,
musubi with futikake, chicken legs, adobo, and soda frozen until ice,
but my maddah packs white rice with a little bit of pork and cabbage, and
puts da sucka into one plastic bag with one old bottle filled with wata.

after that da bugga holds my shoes, my books, my clothes,
it has to pick up Keri’s grandpa’s pickled mangoes,
anything that can fit inside a grocery size bag and as long as it’s intact, and
you better bring it back, ‘cause we go use um until it’s got pukas.

and my mother keeps the plastic on the face of her cell phone screen,
until the numbers can’t be seen because the dirt has formed a thin layer clouding up the entire face,
and the remote control is wrapped so thick in plastic wrap that,
you could use it to play basketball.
and the couch speaks to me in a squeak, because separating my ass from the seat is twenty layers of saran wrap protecting it from leaks, and spills, and stains for centuries to come!
the tv, the computer, picture frames, digital cameras, everything wrapped in a plastic wrap condom!
nothing goes out, nothing gets in.

when i was a kid, i didn’t have a recycling bin,
no need.
‘cause in my house, when you buy one yogurt, you don’t just get a yogurt,
you get a yogurt and a potted plant,
you get a yogurt and a cup,
you get a yogurt and a glass,
you get a yogurt, a barbie doll bathtub.
so no waste, grandma says ‘causes you can always use one thing for another.

like that plastic peanut butter jar,
when the creaminess is gone,
dat jar will live on to contain a serving of mom’s nasty soup,
for you to take home and drink whether you like it or not.

dat jar will house, herbal remedies,
peanut, sesame candy, dried plum, pennies, paper clips,
it’ll go to the restaurant after that to collect tips,
then hold, cornstarch, sugar, honey, and more.

i remember opening the refrigerator door,
confusing the fuck out of me each time,
i open a pudding container only to find left over stir fry,
a cookie tin, filled with eggs dyed brown,
i found shredded cabbage in a potato chip bag.

and now when i look back i find it a little bit funny,
but we reused because we didn’t have money,
we weren’t a new age or hippie hipster family rebelling against the economy for the sake of making waves,
my grandparents saved pennies like chunks of gold,
and wrapped everything in plastic wrap, reused plastic bags, jars, take out utensils, tofu tubs,
any sort of packaging that could have another life.

so they could give us another life,
they sacrificed, and scraped, and saved,
so that i could grow up and make waves that carry their stories in the fabric of the lines,
so now, i keep the plastic on my cell phone screen until it falls off on its own,
and keep a barrel of plastic bags under my sink,
and i drink water from jelly jars,
and keep little candy bars in tofu tubs,
while keeping life and love inside a plastic bag,
tattooed all over the inside.

Written and performed by Kit Yan © 2008.

i’m sorry, boy, you can stop now
this really isn’t working out
i really don’t like making out with you very much
oh no it has nothing to do with you
i just don’t like the things we do
besides, now that you mentioned
i much prefer a woman’s touch

oh, why are you putting on your coat
why are you headed for the door
i’m sure it’s nothing that we can’t work out
oh, you want an explanation?
i don’t know where to begin
you want to know what this is all about?

ok so fine, i slept with your ex-girlfriend
that’s why she broke up with you in january
i didn’t have the heart to tell you
cuz you were such a nice guy
but men just honestly don’t do it for me

so i met her that day in your apartment
and when you went out to buy cigarettes
we made out on the couch, then made love
on your bedroom floor
when you were cooking dinner, we did it on the front porch
when you were watching the news, we did it behind the closet door

remember that night at dinner
we were giggling to each other
that’s cuz her hands were actually reaching up my skirt
her body is so soft
and her fingers are so gentle
oh boy, can you please try not to look so fucking hurt

i’m sorry you and i had to end up like this
but women are just so much better don’t you see
i didn’t have the heart to tell you
cuz you were such a nice guy
but men just honestly don’t do it for me

i hate the smell of aftershave
i hate your hairy arms and legs
i hate how your lips feel
i have to confess
she is so beautiful
she’s not too rough and she’s not too coarse
she’s also got two sexy squishy things called breasts

and i’m glad we’ve found some common ground
i’m sorry we didn’t last very long
we didn’t look that cute together anyway
i think i’ll give your ex-girlfriend a call
i’m glad it worked out after all
i hope to god your next girlfriend doesn’t turn out to be gay

so try not to look so disappointed
it’s not a very good way to be
i didn’t have the heart to tell you
cuz you were such a nice guy
but men just honestly don’t do it for me

Written and performed by Melissa Li © 2000.

you squint your eyes like my haircut offends you
or maybe it’s just my guitar
you said “why you flaunt your queerness when we don’t want to hear this
nobody cares who you are”

and as if by accident you gave yourself away
so you throw up your hands in defense
“i’m straight and progressive
but you seem obsessive ’bout forcing us your two cents”

have you ever heard the tales that never made it to you
the ones that always found me?
do you know how long it took
for me to finally look
at the mirror and actually like what i see?
but you said

“who cares if you’re normal or if you’re a freak
who cares if you’re black or white or blue
why you gotta put your business onto the street
you know, nobody really gives a shit what you do”

nobody cares if you’re ’bout to jump offa the ledge
nobody cares your spirit’s broken and your courage is torn
nobody cares you swallowed the entire bottle again
cuz your momma told you she was ashamed you were born

so who cares
nobody cares
maybe you don’t want to feel my tears
maybe my shoes are too heavy for you to walk in them
who cares
nobody cares
so tell yourself what you want and go on home

you regurgitate every word you ate in class
as you devour my culture bite by bite
you think racism at last is a remnant of the past
cuz you voted for obama even though you’re white

you say “get off that stage and turn off that rage
you’re only as yellow as you believe
i think you’re a phony
and you’re just a pony with only one trick up her sleeve”

have you ever heard the sadness that never touched you
the one that always found me?
and all the years it took
for me to finally look
at the mirror and actually like what i see?
but you said

“who cares about the way that you carry your pride
you’re preachin to the choir i’m on your side
who wants to keep track of all the times that you’ve cried
you know, nobody cares what you’re feeling inside”

nobody cares that you were cornered in an alleyway
nobody cares that they demean you without any guilt
nobody cares they called you ching chong at school everyday
while taking credit for the country your ancestors built

so who cares
nobody cares
maybe you don’t want to feel my tears
maybe my shoes are too heavy for you to walk in them
who cares
nobody cares
so tell yourself what you want and go on home

does it make you sick to hear this rhetoric
that only makes sense to me?
do you know how long it took
for me to finally look
at a mirror and actually like what I see?

“who cares that you’re black, you know i’m colorblind
who cares that you’re gay, so is my best friend
who cares who you fuck? i have an open mind
you know nobody cares enough to hear it again”

nobody cares that you were dumped along the side of the road
nobody cares your father beat you until you were numb
nobody cares that there are stories that have never been told
while the rest of you continue to just play dumb

so who cares
nobody cares
maybe you don’t want to feel my tears
maybe my shoes are too heavy for you to walk in them
who cares
nobody cares
so tell yourself what you want and go on home
pat yourself on the back and go on home

Written and performed by Melissa Li © 2009.