"Lechers At Play" a poem by Jess Coffman

Hello loyal friends,

This poem that I am posting today is rather dark, so if you don't want to bring down your sunny TGIF mood, don't read it. I have very few poems like this so tune in soon, for the next silly and bright one :)

I am doing a bit of song research at the moment on a song called "The Dark I Know Well," from Duncan Sheik's incredibly beautiful musical Spring Awakening. I fell in love with this musical last summer when Billy totally kicked ass performing in it. He had to kiss a guy  in it as the sexually explorative/manipulative teenager "Hanschen." It was a whole new strange king of jealousy for me during the process, especially because I was out of town for work. But when I saw his performance, I surprised myself and him with my reaction. He and the other guy created such an honest and sweet scene. Through it, I believed he was providing a really beautiful visual of homosexual love, and was advocating it. My strange jealousy melted away and I was so proud of him. 

This poem really has nothing to do with Spring Awakening, except that while I was researching "The Dark I Know Well," I remembered this poem that I wrote last spring. I had gone to an improv show with some friends, and I had been appalled at one of the scenes that I saw. I am not pretending to be an improv genius but I had just taken an Upright Citizens Brigade class and they stressed not doing anything that would cause your improv partner to be uncomfortable. At this performance, one of the guys in the improv troupe started doing something really sexually inappropriate to his scene partner. I was really uncomfortable as an audience member, and I felt really uncomfortable for the actor being taken advantage of on stage. He was stuck and just had to go with it as part of the "game" of the scene, and as not to ruin the performance. 

I was extremely livid about this, and none of guys that I was with seemed to be affected by what was tearing me up. Maybe as a women we understand it better. The way you ignore cat calls in the street, but how it eats you up a little. Or how an older man can flirt with you and leave you feeling disgusted, though you can't quite put your finger on what it was that bothered you. It's that unquantifiable discomfort, that  caused me to write this poem. 

Lechers at Play

Beware of cowardly cheap cannibals who want to steal strength from you.

Their mission is completely self-interested.

They want all of the power, laughter and glory in the story.

Their tongues, slimy and split, will spit out disguised flattery intended to give you only two choices.

One, is too ignore the disgust in your gut and breathe on.

Two, is to take action routed in self -respect and deliver the consequences to these Lechers at Play.

Unfortunately both choices leave you isolated.

If you choose Two, and speak aloud of the unfairness, often times you sacrifice your personal relationships with many more people that you could have ever imagined. It’s horrifying how people don’t want to get involved.

Others may misunderstand your outspoken declaration of personal injustice, as a problem you have with indiscretion, or an inclination toward over sensitivity.

So you are left alone and whispered about as your back is turned. But Fuck them.

Could it be just as isolating to choose One? To absorb the harassment and keep a buttoned lip?

My instincts and experiences say yes.

You lose fewer acquaintances this way, but that secret rots your heart, and makes it impossible for others to get close to you.

Keep your distance as far as you can from the Lechers who corrupt your inner peace for their entertainment.

The first time the Lecher crosses that physical boundary, and touches you lightly with just the very tip of his finger…break it off immediately.

The world would say this is rash, and would rather you use your intelligence through words and proper channels of hierarchy. But that was choice number Two, which causes others to neglect and ignore you. Fuck that.

Only you can rightfully decipher when you have had enough unquantifiable unfairness, when that delicate line between uncomfortable and repulsion has been crossed.

If it happens once and you are silent, that accomplishment only gives the Lecher the power to try again. And this character will try again, they have probably gotten away with it for years. 

You will be able to handle very little, before it begins to destroy you from the inside out. So use your power and force they have been trying to rob you of, and pinch the Lechers off.

Spit in their face.

Though your frightened voice is quaking, shout out the injustice.

Shame them, as they have shamed you.

Rip their balls off.

Sometimes the only person who is brave enough to protect you is yourself.