Why it hurts to write.

The writer sits and people stare
he writes and scribbles and does(n't) care
they point and jeer, laugh and think
wondering if he's on the brink
of some new thought beyond their grasp
time and life fly by so fast
but he keeps writing and thinking on page
as deeper he digs, raise to new stage

of progress against the thoughts of old
thoughts of malice, bitter cold,
overwhelming hate, blinding wars,
richest thieves, cheapest whores.
he pieces puzzles of memories gone,
of wounds unhealed,
of broken song,
of tears unshed,
of bridges burned,
of alarms on snooze,
of corners unturned,
of roads unwalked,
of truth unspoken,
of lies kept,
of promises broken,of wreckage held,
of thoughts ungrown,
of challenges left,
of seeds unsown,
of misery kept and happiness spent,
of lives that are broken or horribly bent,

he strikes gold with logic new
and burns with passion through and through
he pieces puzzles and comes to this,
"all is revealed in the warmth of a kiss.
of a touch, of a love, burning desire,
nothing so warm as two hearts on fire.
and though there is pain in vulnerability,
there is no growth in loving casually.
Give up the wall and let down the pride,
and although it may hurt, let people inside."
And as all sit and sneer, and continue to die,
he thinks of their pain, and loves them,
and cries.

SImple things instead.

Someday
Every word I say
Will be watched like a hawk
And with that thought
I want to explain my theory
It could be bunnies
or honeys
or simply a sunny day,
whatever makes you happy.
Searching for money,
and things that fade,
that are grey and all burn away.
That my friend is the sign
of insanity
Free your mind,
let it roam,
and it will find it's
place at home.
In the simple pleasures of
reading a book,
solving a problem,
travel and look.
Stop destroying the simple things,
all to become kings
and queens in countries
with hateful themes.
As a child, be lead.
Simple things instead.

That Kid

The hardest part about writing fiction is when it requires the truth. The following is a true story. It was written as part of the Hop Against Homophobia (HAH) to share my experiences and my POV.

I am that kid, bloody and bruised,
thrown on the sidewalk, wasted and used.
I am that kid in different clothes,
beat up and spit on for words that he chose.
I am that kid, no belief left in God,
that Christians reviled, and Samiritans robbed.
I am that kid that stayed late at school,
to avoid the cheers and the sneers of the "cool".
I am that kid that covered the mirrors,
that quietly hurt myself, screaming through tears.
I am that kid, coming out to my folks,
only to find I am the butt of their jokes.
I am that kid, hit and thrown to the ground,
you said you'd protect, but you were never around.
I am that kid who couldn't take any more,
so I closed off my heart, and prayed to my core.
I am that kid, that pray and pray,
since suicide's sin, kill me another way.
I am that kid, who lived through that shit,
now I AM STRONGER, and on the other side of it.
I am that man, who sees the truth,
that people are mean, and worse, in their youth.
I am that man who understands how
the same ones who made fun are all sorry now.
I am that man, they all wanted to be,
even in youth, cause the truth set me free.
I am that man, who chooses to love,
stronger than hate, I rise above.
I am that man though the kid is still me,
the only difference is now, I'm happy to be.
I am that man who journeyed though hate
bruised but not broken, who chose his own fate.
I am that man who will love who he please
No apologies, no regrets, 'til this life, it does cease.