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Glenn Currier Sep 2021
The thorns in my side
I try so hard to hide
with humor, cleverness, even kindness
but after so long they are well-planted
like seeds they’ve taken root.

I am a man full of grace and gratitude
even changes in attitude
I float on great waves
in my wooden dinghy
precarious atop mighty waters
and angels visit
take me into smooth azure lagoons
where I reside in peace
even serenity from time to time.

I weep in great sadness
occasional fits of despair
drowning there
I swim up to gulp for air
leap and glide into the light
breathe mercy in my flight
pray for courage and gumption
but discover
I cannot stay afloat alone
so with abandon I dive
into bright souls whose hands and hearts
reach down to rescue me.
Some of them are thorn people too
battered, broken, and rugged
who’ve found the courage to change
the things they could.

I guess these thorns are there
to ******* up for air
to give me the zephyr of humility
the certainty of a love
that save me.
For those in the grip of addictions.
morseismyjam Aug 2021
I applied under my legal name.
No way around it really, so I'll have to tell the truth later.
Policy, taxes, W-2's blah,
all I know is that neither the government
or the corporation cares that I stopped being a girl at least 5 years ago (even though the pride merch is filling the front).

It's for the more presentable queers.
Those white, married gays and lesbians moving into the suburbs with their kids and white picket fences and their acceptable bodies.
No trans flag in sight, just gaudy rainbow after gaudy "love wins".
Where's my prize?
Same-*** marriage doesn't help when I decide whether to *** like a man or a woman.
Daivik Aug 2021
They had nothing to give
To their motherland
Except their mortal lives
So they gave it cheerfully
Without a second thought
To see her wrinkled smile
Timmy Shanti Jul 2021
Leave the rut
The comfort zone
Let the magic happen

Be yourself
Not someone else
Needn't any shepherds

You're a star
You're meant to shine
Leave the hate to others

Be yourself
No matter what
Proudly wear your colours
ca. MMI
Rama Krsna Jul 2021
those kohl rimmed eyes
soak a tristesse beyond words,
bitter sweet memories
which now lie buried
in the sands of time....
underneath that ram-tough exterior
lies a delicate lily
clad in chanel
vulnerable enough to wither
under the auspices of a full moon

© 2021
inspired by a beautiful pink moon today
Sky Jul 2021
But.

I know you are, but.

But what? Is this so
inconceivable?
So inconvenient?

We don't control these things,
not forever.
Perhaps when we're young
and scared,

So when we finally settle in,
into our own skins,
everyone has
something to say.

"But this isn't who
you used to be;
this isn't who I know-"

Well, I'm more myself
than ever before,
and I refuse to fall
into your perfect view.

I feel safe
just out of focus,
and there is where I'll stay.
So many people who I'm close to have mixed or negative views about gender that it's nearly impossible to find validation or comfort on the matter. Hence, a small vent.
Chris Thomas Jul 2021
The sun is setting over this wonderland
Here I am, drifting along shame again
Using my dreams as the raft
And my heart as the anchor

I make landfall and plot a course
Blistered feet causing no distraction
My veins run with yesterday's toxins
Making my scars more visible than before

Anxiously, I await in the shadows
For the villain to make his grand entrance
My hands crave to clutch his throat
My eyes burn with fires of vengeance

The cost of everything he took from me
A debt that could never be repaid
I crouch behind misshapen branches
And inhale one spiteful last breath

But the cowardly ******* never shows his face
Leaving no print for miles around
Until, at last, in the rustling of summer's death
Autumn points her finger directly at me

.
As the door closes on another England Chapter
A sterling effort far from disaster
A first major final in fifty-five years
Jubilant voices replaced by tears
But we've come along way in such a short time
Maguire and Stones a solid back-line
Pickford mature and calm between the sticks
A terrific save in penalty kicks
Shouts of "Shawberto!" From the stands
A chorus of 'Sweet Caroline' "hands touching hands"
Cries of "bring on Grealish!" Phil Foden's bleach blonde hair
Fist pumps from Southgate
The passion was there
Beating the Germans at last
Now that felt sublime
Sterling a constant menace now in his prime
But we came up short and that's what matters
Broken hearts English dreams in tatters
Yet I firmly believe this is just the beginning
So keep your heads up and keep on singing
"It's coming home it's coming home"
Cos it will one day
Even though it rains and the sky is grey
Red and white ribbons on that cup we'll see
And what a perfect sight it will be
Copyright ©️Joshua Reece Wylie 2021
Layla Jul 2021
The journey starts in the early morning.
By 7:36am the alarm is blaring and we know it’s time to go.
We grab a backpack and carefully put the neon green keychain in the smallest pocket for safekeeping.

Teeth brushed, shoes on and the batteries are all charged as we double check the wallet and phone before finally shutting the heavy apartment door.

As we make our way down the first flight of stairs we stop to stare out the large window that holds an imposing place of honour from the ceiling all the way to the bottom floor. We see a few water droplets crowd together in a corner as they race down as if to see who can make it to the bottom first. We make a right and down a second flight of stairs we go until we reach the ground floor; there we stop and take a picture before stepping outside.

The morning rush seems to be on hiatus today: a few cars go by but nothing like the heavy traffic you would expect on a mid-July day. Although it’s clear a storm is brewing the air is still warm and with that, welcoming. The trees bow down as we pass, the breeze making them wobble from side to side like the white porcelain rocking horse that once sat gloriously on top of the fire place.

We walk fast, music playing in our headphones. We listen to 3 songs by 3 different artists before making it to the first crossing and as we make our way between the tightly packed buildings we see some workmen talking loudly and drinking the first of what is sure to be many more cups of coffee. If we would be walking side by side our strides would match and our steps would be in unison, as perfectly choreographed as the smiles which lay hidden behind thick layers of  please-not-again and just-another-day-like-yesterday. Ready to be deployed at a moment's notice if we are ever approached.

We smell the rain and the trees, and the rubbery scent of tires rolling on wet asphalt. We did it, we made it with 10 minutes to spare. On the left is the movie theatre - we glance at it and wonder what it will be showing today. We make a mental note to check it out later but soon forget as we become entranced by the beautifully coloured pride chalk art displayed on the ground. It’s so detailed it’s sure to have taken many hours of hard work and caused plenty of sore knees.

We enjoy walking on the topsy turvy road feeling free as our steps gracefully land on each colour of the rainbow. Although no one is around to see it we are smiling. Some might call today cloudy, depressing  and dark.

Not us. We see the beauty hiding timidly between each carefully placed line; skipping merrily from one colour to the next, leaving only watery footprints behind to safe-keep the dear memory of our walking tour adventure.

We raise a finger and point ahead to indicate the way in which we need to go. When we glance over and we see our mirrored gestures a laugh escapes our lips. Our eyes lock and shine bright as they reflect the roads and tall buildings ahead, but most importantly they show the spark of love we keep hidden deep inside our souls like an aura that can only be seen by those with a pure and open heart. We cherish each moment, taking it in as if it would be a precious gift the universe has entrusted us with.

As we step back onto the pavement we are met by an array of smells and sounds: the city has come alive in the golden hour we spent day-dreaming of forbidden escape. Our steps are slower now; it’s our own secret world and we have no desire to rush as we thirstily take in all the astonishing sights; as though we would be witnessing them for the very first time. The gentle sound of our steps meeting each puddle symphonically accompanies the soft chatter of the brave that have ventured out on this stormy day. And when we are no longer shielded by the generously large, sloping roofs the rain drops start falling. Landing silently, they are a cooling, sweet delight on our slightly-too-warm rosy cheeks.

After what feels like an eternity of walking through a man-made paradise we are back in the protective embrace of safety as we re-enter the apartment. Our senses are heightened as the brewing storm lets loose and we watch through the windows as it finally begins its furious rampage through the city, showing little to no mercy to any poor soul left behind.

The once quiet clouds have laid in wait for much too long and are now rebelling - throwing loud, thunderous protests towards all mortals as Mother Earth braces for the impact. But the chaos never comes and the seconds-ago angst filled sky is once again a clear, serene blue ready to withstand many more weeks of pain until it’s time to rage and cry and spill the precious water reserves once more.

At last, a beautiful rainbow graces the sky, manifesting new peace with its familiar colours; a sign that it’s safe for us to venture out again.
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