Poem by an incarcerated boylover

Dear NAMBLA:

I am a 42-year-old boy-lover who is incarcerated in the Midwest. I have been sentenced to a very long time; let's just say that I don't think I'll ever get out. I was found guilty of having sex with my 14-year-old nephew. My nephew and I had a wonderful two-year relationship going. During this time his grades in school improved. I'm not trying to imply that our relationship was responsible for this, but I would like to think that I contributed to this. When he was first questioned by his parents he told them that nothing was going on between us. Then the police and children's service board got involved and the whole thing became an ugly mess. They tried to say that I had raped him and that I had threatened his life if he ever said anything to anybody. Only my boy lover and I knew that this was not so. Although my boy lover resisted all attempts by the police and the CSB to implicate me in any crime, it was only a matter of time before they all wore him down. I knew that this was going to happen because the local police had been after me for quite some time but had never been able to prove anything against me. They told my boy lover that nothing was going to happen to me and that I would not go to jail but would the the help "that I so desperately needed." He finally broke down and told them that we had been having sex for the last couple of years and that it was by mutual consent. He told them that I never forced him into anything that he didn't want to do, and that I never threatened his life. In fact he told them that he felt that I would give up my life to protect him.

We went to court and none of what my boy the police about our relationship was brought out in court. Every time my attorney tried to make mention of what my boy lover had said, the prosecutor would object and the judge would rule in his favor. Needless to say I was found guilty of the crime of loving a boy and sentenced to a very long time in prison. I've spent many long and lonely hours thinking about my boy lover and all that he had to go through in court, in school, and even in his home all because no one understood the relationship we had. I haven't heard from him since I've been sent, but that's understandable. I don't blame him for not writing to me, 'cause it's not that he doesn't want to write - it's that his parents won't let him know where I am. I worry a lot about him 'cause he's a very sensitive boy and I'm afraid that he won't be able to handle all the pressure that is placed on him because of our relationship.

Many nights I've thought about my boy lover and have wondered how he is doing. In my long and lonely days and nights I've taken to writing poetry and I have written the following poem. In a way it's the fear that I have for my boy lover and what he might do 'cause nobody out there understands how he feels. I hope that you find it worthwhile to print. I proudly dedicate this poem to all the young boys out there who can relate to it. I've titled it "No One Cares" 'cause it seems that nobody cares how the boy feels in a situation like this. Here is my poem and I hope - well, I don't really know what to hope for.

He sits all alone/This young boy of thirteen/He wonders about life/What little of it he's seen.
He knows that he's different/Or so it would seem./He and his friends share the same wants and desires/and even have the same dream.
He wants to play pro baseball/ or even be a big football star/He wants fame and money/and to drive a big car.
But somehow this difference/he feels is holding him back./He can't really explain it/'cause he knows it's not fear that he lacks.
He has no one to talk to/'cause he really doesn't know what to say./He feels so helpless and lonely/and it gets worse with each passing day.
He feels he's the only person/with feelings like his/For there's no one else in the world/who could have feelings like this.
He talked to his teachers/and counselors at school./They all told him the same thing/it's only a phase you're going through.
He knows it's much more than this/he feels it deep down inside./He feels if he can't find the answer/then he mights as well commit suicide.
He's always had these feelings/but only really realized it these past two years./Many a night he's spent in his room/in pain and in tears.
He sits by the railroad tracks/with his father's gun in his hand./The feeling he gets from this/is really quite grand.
He pulls back the hammer/and points the gun to his head./In a few minutes all his problems will be over/'cause very soon he'll be dead.
He feels this is the only answer/as he waits for the sound of the train/to drown out the shot.

Thank you very much for letting me have my say. I really enjoy reading the Bulletin. Keep up the good work.

Yours in boy-love,
J.D.

source: Incoming letter by J.D.; Nambla Bulletin, Vol 12, No. 4; May 1991