Being happy isn't having enough money to go out tonight
it isn't slurring your words
or being surrounded by birds
in a bar or on a hillside.
Being happy isn't having your political party in power
or having *** in the shower
or drinking your favourite tea
or getting down on one knee and hearing a shriek of joy.
it's understanding the word "no"
and carrying your grandma's wishes with you wherever you go.
Being happy isn't a fluffy, roasted sweet potato
or a sesame bagel with smashed avocado
it's stooping down low
and saying hello to what grows
at the bottom of the social food chain
and talking and taking away a bit of someone else's pain
it's swapping smiles with a new stranger every day
walking miles through danger not to have your say
but to hear someone else's.
Being happy is always giving a couple of quid to the homeless,
whether you have it or not.
it's keeping smiling when there's a twist in your plot
Being happy, it's, it's cleaning your flatmate's dishes as well as your own
it's having a clear state of mind - where you feel at home.

Start with a statement.
Something you know to be true.
See how it relates to the things you cherish -
family, nature, flying, anything.
Now write it, but also speak it!
Make sure it has a rhythm
that bounces to and fro.
Weave in the important elements
everywhere you can.
But be careful with your words!
Try not to repeat them -
this is where a thesaurus comes in handy.
A dictionary too!
Use your language correctly,
or have a **** good reason for not.
Punctuation matters too;
it affects how you read.
Listen in your head -
does that period belong there?
Grammatically it might be correct,
poetically, maybe not.
Hide things, little secrets,
between the lines
for the reader to discover.
But most of all,
and now this is the important part,
write what feels right,
nothing less
and nothing more.

That's how to write a poem.

Inside the grounds
My heart it bleeds
A special house
Down by the sea.
A home for children everywhere
But now abandoned
With no one there .
It's sad to see the years move on
With those in need of care
All those days have come and gone
Leaving memories to share ,
Thinking now of those special  times
They were special times indeed
Now the house is past repair
And the grounds now full with weeds.
You see the times are changing
That's the way that it must be
Then that really is no comfort
For children with special  needs.
If this house could tell its story
I wonder what it would say
The past and all those children
And its former glory days .
The children now are older
They have grown to be adults
Living in a world of prejudice
Along with harsh insults .
But there's no need to worry
What will be will be
Still they have those  memories
Of the old house by the sea.

The light of awareness
dissolves the ego.
See it when it awakens.
Spot it once it arises.
Then realize
that it's not who you really are.
It's something that you have.
Something that's created
by you and the others.
You can follow it,
yield to it,
then suffer.
Or choose to just observe it.
See it as a part of you.
Accept that you have it.
And choose to stay connected
to the spirit,
the one that's closest
to who you really are.
Then it dissolves
in peace.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A capsule frozen in time,
A snapshot of how I was.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my dog again.
She will sit at the front door
Waiting for me and wondering,
Why I never came home.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never graduate from high school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Stopped short of their goal,
Missing years that should have been.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my mom again.
She will sit distraught,
Planning a funeral
For a child taken from her.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my friends again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One empty seat among them,
A constant reminder of their loss.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my little sister again.
She will sit through high school
Knowing I can't guide her through,
That she has to figure it out alone.

If I die in a school shooting
My school will be stained.
Pools of students lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the brick structures,
Marks of death ground into it.

If I die in a school shooting
Everyone will wear black.
They'll send their thoughts and prayers
To a town marred by death,
Forever to be the home of a shooting.

If I die in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or will I become one of hundreds  
Of kids who have to die?
What will it take?

If things continue this way
Children will have to live in fear.
They'll look over their shoulders
Always worried and wondering,
If they'll die in a school shooting.

When the last leaf falls, and
the first flower blooms, that's
when Life begins anew--