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.

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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.

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Fag.

Queer.

Pervert.

Deviant.

Dyke.

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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?

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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.


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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Brandon Teena

img_6264

Life tried to speak,

another existence,

decades of denial,

that decayed,

until he was standing,

saying his name,

under the starless sky,

hushed and hopeful,

that the world would echo back,

and suddenly,

the sky was so full of stars,

saying his name,

hushed and hopeful,

that he could hear them.


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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Girls Like Us

New York knows you.

Small stem,

to tepid titan,

coaxing the clouds,

from the sky,

and the stars to the sidewalk.

They gather,

gasping at your glow,

as you break free,

and breathe,

for the first time,

on your own terms.

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Small smile,

small girl,

big dreams,

at the ball,

on the roof,

gazing at the gallant night,

that belongs to you.

Take the night.

Take the stars,

from the sidewalk,

decorate your darling face,

and walk,

walk,

walk,

to bloom,

in the blue of the morning light.


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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, politics, Writing

Women Who Work (Really Hard At Pretending To Be Allies)

She tapped on a screen,
as if it meant the same,
as standing with the brave,
and using her freedom,
to free them.

I am proud
I will say I am proud
to support my LGBTQ friends and the LGBTQ Americans
of the LGBTQ Americans my Dad targets
who have made immense contributions to our society and economy.
so they can’t point out my cowardice,
in the face of their bravery.

I will say I am proud,
of the LBGTQ Americans my Dad targets,
so they can’t point out my cowardice,
in the face of their bravery.

She tapped on a screen,
and typed everything,
a publicist told her,
and it meant nothing.


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