Those Marky Brothers
Those Marky brothers were a handsome pair
They set our hearts a twitter.
Dating every girl at Tampelo High
And a lot of them were bitter.
When they walked down the halls
The girls would drool,
They were the hottest
Guys in school
Until they dated Babs
Giving everyone crabs
They said they got a bad rap
When the girls came down with the clap
Those Marky brothers were a handsome pair.
Rumors spread they were gay.
The ladies defiled all went wild.
“Itching” to get away!
A Barking Reminder
Sheer Will.
No, that's a lie.
My dogs get me up
On the toughest of mornings.
Their incessant whining
Barking and prancing
Begging for food.
They don't let up
Licking my exposed toes
Digging bony elbows into my back
Cold snouts pushed into my face.
They force me up
To feed them
Because I may not want to live
But I need to for my dogs.
It reminds me after a while
That those moments
Mean something
My life
Means something
To someone.
My husband,
My dogs,
My cats.
I may want to give up
See nothing to live for
But those barks are all it takes
to tell me
I'm needed, wanted, and loved.
That's what gets me up
When there's nothing to live for.
Hidden
With simple labels, you are exorcised:
"quiet," "shy", becomes an excuse to forget,
to create excuses to veil the unease that comes with
the things that they do not understand,
the things to which they cannot relate.
Then you are alone.
Then the "quiet" and the "shy" must maintain
and uphold these roles, and into these boxes
they shrink.
Yes, they are quiet, it is the only claim they are allowed
so they become anti-social,
while they stare longingly, peering up from book to sky
from hands to eyes,
please ask me too
please ask me
please ask
who?
I Am Not A Shadow
i don’t want to be someone who writes in pencil and eats too slowly and walks with eyes that are glued to the sidewalk and tops of strangers’ feet. i’ve been underwater for so long that i’ve forgotten lungs are meant to be filled with air, exhaling seems more like something found on the second star on the right, rather than a process that is meant to be done twenty-three thousand times a day. i feel like an old woman who looks in the mirror and all she can see are wrinkles and white hair and tired eyes and the absence of who she used to be. but i’m not someone who turns away from sunsets and pretends that darkness is all i’ve ever known; someone who thinks the sun will never rise again. because the sun will rise again - the words hiding inside of me will find their way out, because i cannot hold my breath forever. i am not someone who writes in pencil and erases the bits that are too honest and too imperfect and too real to claim as thoughts of my own. i cannot keep my lips pursed and hands tied behind my back, i cannot keep pretending i am shadow of who i used to be. my tomorrows hold suns much brighter than the ones that have risen over the horizons of my past; i have not reached the summit yet. there is so much more me for me to become. each day, i am new.
We Are All Loved
White. Black. Asian. Hispanic. Indian. Middle Eastern.
Straight. Gay. Lesbian. Bi. Trans. Asexual. Pan.
Christian. Jewish. Muslim. Atheist.
Man and woman.
Young and old.
We all deserve a chance to love.
We all deserve to be loved.
Love is endless.
Love is boundless.
Love is timeless.
Love is love.