I woke up at 4 am
to the news of a mass shooting,
in Las Vegas.

It makes me sick,
that this is the kind of place
my kids will grow up in.

Now I just wonder,
has it always been this way?

When we were kids,
did our parents just cover our eyes,
and hide our face?

Or is all this ****,
this negative energy,

the beginning of an America

that's far more sinister?


It will be hard,
but we have to fix it.

I refuse to let my kids grow up
worried about ballistics.

You are so much more
than a drunk writer's anthology
of rough verses and mismatched rhymes
of broken sonnets and unsent letters

You are so much more
than the woes of a hopeless romantic
strewn across papers against Juliet's walls
and heavy locks weighing over the Seine

You are so much more
than the regrets pushed back and forth
between the empty gazes of our swollen eyes
as you pull back tears in time for dinner

You are so much more
than the seams unraveling from that sweater
you wear to hide the scars covering your empty arms
and to somehow feel the warmth of being held again

Darling, you are so much more
than you could ever see right now

You are a ballad
boldly written with songs played by angels
and the graceful sorrows of unsung heroes
quietly tugging heartstrings at the break of dawn

You are the moss
tracing cracks along forgotten walls
and worn-out sidewalks reminding us how to bloom
in places we never thought we could

You are the light
spilling through half smiles and broken laughs
stippling agonizing voids with luminous diamonds
that draw constellations of faith and hope

You are the shooting star
stumbling across this dark and infinite sky
as I close my eyes and desperately wish
that you finally see yourself the way I do

"Your eyes sparkle like stars
                           in the night sky,
when I stare into them,
              I feel like I am soaring high."*

I said this too her, like every word
was a shooting star.
                       Burning up
in the atmosphere of her heart.

Love shined momently bright..
                      skimming on emotions
but, what happens when stars fade.

Alone in the dark, wishing on
glimpses of our moment.
                 The heavens now empty of us.

let it be
for as long as possible
let it be
let's live minute to minute
fill every second with passion
every day we'll exceed the limits
of what we feel
of what seems real
fiery kisses
shooting star wishes
back seat ***
pool deck next
sleeping through the night
sun rays open my eyes to my favourite sight
my dreams are starting to come alive

Every day she plants the starseeds
that grow into wishing flowers,
their petals fall down to the earth
and we call them meteor showers.

We beseech the celestial wanderers
and when our words reach her ears,
she makes all our biddings come true,
but each one is stained by her tears.

She yearned for one to call her own
in her garden above the clouds,
but to think of herself and not of the world,
her duty is disavowed.

And so the lonely Starwarden
only smiled on us from above.
She could not keep the wish of another
just because she wished for love.

"But why don't we have straight pride?"
"I don't mind them really, I'd just rather they didn't shove it down my throat".
"Did you see those lesbians holding hands?"
"Do you have a boyfriend?"

These moments are usually filled with silence. The room is suddenly so quiet, that I can almost hear my fear in the key holes, tucked away inside draws, behind laws, In the space between us.

I sit there and I swallow my pride. I swallow the thoughts of years of coming to terms with who I was and kissing boys to try and feel the way I was supposed to. I swallow walking down streets and staring at strangers, trying to figure out who I found the most attractive. I swallow every time I used to think to myself "It's not real. I'm making it all up. I'm not gay". I swallow the first time I said it out loud. I swallow the first time I was proud. I swallow the way I traced her freckles softly in the sunlight. I swallow the fights with my father and the tears behind closed doors. I swallow the stares in public and the glares and hushed whispers that stayed with me for days. I swallow every time someone would say "but you don't look gay". I swallow being told I can't take a joke. I swallow teachers talking about "homosexuals" as if there were none sitting in the room before them. I swallow being myself. I swallow the very essence of who I am. I swallow loving who I am. I swallow reclaiming the word lesbian, the word that used to sound like a slur. Like a ***** piece of language that only lived in **** videos and his wastepaper bin. I swallow falling in love with women. I swallow each time I stared at my body, and didn't recognise myself. I swallow all the shame in the world. I swallow my pride.

But then fifty voices are swallowed. One hundred loving hands. Two thousand threckles. 20 different countries. 1 million breaths. Fifty hearts whose beats echoed in pride.

And suddenly, I stop swallowing, and start living. For they can take our lives, but they will not take our pride.

You may never have stood and looked down the sight
At the tommy buck out in the breeze
With the barrel on the side of the truck
As your father says, "Gently now, squeeze."

You may never have felt the kick of the ****,
Then heard the report with a crack,
Or seen the buck just scatter away,
Leaping this way and that.

You may never have smelt the smell of the air
After a fire on the plain
When fresh grass shoots are pushing through
With mushrooms, after the rain.

You may never have heard the kru kroo of a dove
When at dusk to its mate it is calling,
As shadows are lengthening out to the east
And the African night is falling.

You may never have felt the pump of your heart
As you slam the truck cab door
Then lurch on the seat as you cross the plain
To the prey when you're only four.

You may never have ridden with game in the back
As rain clouds blacken the sky,
Or heard the clank of the tail-gate chains
And, never again shall I!

Breathe;

I know there was a time when you thought,
you would burn bright like the shooting- stars with me;

Does it make you breathless,
How we became,
Candles throbbing with a steady flame.