Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore, and I’m Afraid That It Never Was

God damn, I tire of “good intentions”.
I’m supposed to swallow my feelings,
because you meant well,
but,
well,
I don’t care if you did,
it was shit,
and I’m tired of the quickness with which bitches will tell me to “lighten up and appreciate a well intentioned joke :)”

You’re not a baby,
not a child,
not an idiot.
You take great pride in being clever,
so don’t play dumb with me and whine about your “good intentions”,
as if I really have to listen,
to the poor execution of your commentary on executions that don’t involve you.

Gallows humour is only gay (as in happy) if you’re not faraway and safe,
with your neck nowhere near the rope,
but still,
you insist on the existence of this mess.
You’re not gay (as in homo),
so don’t wave our flag and make cracks about heads on spikes,
when your head would be fine if it woke up in Qatar.

Your attempt at preparing a salad of strange fruit fell flat,
but you keep at it,
telling us to laugh,
with a pleading look,
same energy as “Please clap” from the lips of Jeb Bush.
There isn’t a joke here,
because I’m not funny,
but darling, neither are you.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Free and Fearless

As it all turns out,
to be in love,
or to be yourself,
IS brave and stunning,
no matter how much mumsnet mocks you for it.
You love and you live in a free and fearless state,
knowing that time is an ever changing thing,
and that you could go back and forth,
be acceptable or unacceptable on the whims of the rest of the world,
with no control,
but you go on.

You go on,
because there’s nothing else left to do.
Cops don’t come when death threats dance outside your door,
so you dance with your lover, under the light of what little moonlight creeps through the kitchen window,
paint your face like a warrior to hide your wounds,
you love and you live in a free and fearless state,
with the door closed,
because the world is full of cowards.

The world is afraid of how beautiful you truly are,
so they turn away,
they stab wildly in the dark until they find blood,
and the world drinks and drinks like your pain is the potion that will solve all their problems,
but still,
you go on.
You soldier on.
You dance on.
You live on.
You love and you live,
through the trauma and the drama,
because there’s nothing else left to do,
and you were born to be free and fearless.

Read more about International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia and Transphobia

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, politics, Writing

Treehouse

The sun sings in the sky,

watching us wake,

from the same spot every morning.

I communicate behind closed doors,

thinking out loud,

chatting to a picture of us,

thinking of the past,

back when things were so simple,

when you saw me as your sunlight,

before I became an endless evening,

dark secretive shadows,

that you fear.

My heart has always been here,

with you,

it did not originate from the internet,

or a foreign land.

My love is not a virus,

or a death sentence,

it shines too bright to bring shame,

but all the same,

you send it away,

praying for the return of somebody I never was.

I’m not like this because you broke me,

but I am broken by the way you left.

I am broken by my journey,

but I am fixing myself.

I climbed a new family tree,

because I was pushed from the one you invited me into.


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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Patrick Fucking Harvie

I once heard Europe’s favourite bisexual,

(apart from myself,

obvs),

Mr Patrick Fucking Harvie,

King of the climate change debate,

well respected recycler,

and the only MSP that Donald Trump truly fears,

state,

(perhaps I am paraphrasing),

that it was time to be far less tolerant,

of intolerance.

img_5313

It’s hard to disagree,

when you consider that nobody ever died,

from being told to stop calling someone a queer,

but we have lost too many of our family,

expired in an avalanche,

that built day by day.

img_5314

Fag.

Queer.

Pervert.

Deviant.

Dyke.

img_5316

Why does it have to be like this?

Why do we accept,

that our souls must be sacrificed,

for the sake of a homophobe’s freedom?

Why do we watch each generation,

falling as the hatred hurtles through the rainbow we wrap ourselves in?

How can we let another generation go through what we went through?

img_5315

Patrick Fucking Harvie,

is both environmentally friendly,

and correct.

It is time,

to be less tolerant of intolerance,

because the kids deserve better than this.


Read My Books

Hear My Music

Hear My Podcast

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Sad Girl’s Love Song
Drowning In Us
What Ever Happened To Baby Jen?

COME FIND ME

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Instagram
Ask Jen

Facebook
Patreon

Tumblr
Amazon

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