These things we think
and then write
are how we get it out
..so continue......
"get it out...let it out"
we hear you.
I want to be heard.

I was born onto this sphere
alive and lonely,
embraced by the sun
and sheltered by the moon.
Burned by the sun,
abandoned by the moon.
One of many lights


Sometimes I don't know
where I am going
but I know where I have been.
How I cried or laughed or swore.
And if I don't let it out
Words will appear on me
like a tattoo.

Covering every inch
the more I have to say
the words will grow smaller
and smaller
to make room for more.
Until I am all black
Drowned in ink.

I won't hide my light
Slashing at the page
Pounding the keys
This all makes sense,
it has to make sense
Someone will hear.
I'm listening.

The boulders are freckled along the bank,
sleeping on lime-skin grass, grey and tired.
Fading black canvas shoes
attach to smooth, firm sides,
climbing a planet not as hard as ours.

From the distance, a spinning speck is seen.
With binoculars cupped around each eye,
you can see her twirl in the old, pink thing;
in the mirrors of light, you can see her beauty,
even if she has been blind her entire life.

You can see her rest her shoulder on a boulder,
gasps trying to grasp galloping breath --
and in between each choke, you must wonder
if you co-exist in this world
or separately, infinitely.

When you are drunk on the altitude,
it's time to step down and walk to sea-level.
Scurrying down thrown-up mountainside,
you should try not to trip on nature
or your own nature.

You sit there and tell me all of your thoughts
Of how she always leaves you ******* in knots
How you really love her, besides she's so hot
Then you tell me how you all fought
She's marrying another, it's leaving you so wrought
But still when she calls, you run like hell
So why do you keep complaining, please do tell
I am your friend
And will be to the end
But if your looking to me for some Validation
I'm sorry but my train doesn't stop at that station

I seek only validation,
For everything I do,
Yet expectations's crippling,
In my pursuit of you.

Everyone speaks
A million miles an hour
Each word
Growing more empowered

They think saying more,
Competing, interrupting
Proves that they know more
And won't be thought of as nothing

Well I'm the bird
That tries to tweet
When thunder crashes
And lightning streaks

Won't take the time
To hear my thoughts
So all I do
Is smile and nod

But that's okay,
No worries here,
Won't seek validation
From a strangers ear

Your hot air fills the room
While you seek your applause
I know my worth, applaud myself
So I just smile and nod

With grace
I see you pace
throughout the corridor,
concern lavished upon your face.
But it always comes back to me
and I get curious, what is it in you
that I see? That draws you to me?
At the end I understand it’s my
desperation
But in the beginning it feels like
magical procession.
It’s insights like these, I’d rather keep to myself,
frustrations rooted in
lack of respect for self,
kinder words for the reality-
a putrid, decaying necessity
of external validation,
your hands on me,
telling me everything’s ok.

I'm struggling to comprehend this desire to be desired
The forces of nature and evolution in which we're mired

No matter how far we travel into space,
Or how many organs we manage to replace
We cannot transcend the basic instinct
To preserve the species from going extinct

The world keeps spinning at a whirlwind pace,
No time for contemplation, it's the human race
If you don't keep up you'll vanish without a trace
A terrible fate that we can't seem to face
Is to have ourselves and our lives erased

Is this all there is then?
For this great species of women and men
We've struggled, survived and conquered
But our genes are still our masters
We splice study and duplicate
And try to decipher the codes
But must make time to find a mate,
Before we're too old

We've been to the moon and travelled back
We've fought world wars and pandemic attacks
We've studied the brain and consciousness
We've challenged society's prejudices

But no matter what we achieve, build or transcend
We're haunted by the spectre of being barren

The ant, elephant and amoeba
Redwood, fungus and bacteria
The chimp, owl and lowly cockroach
May not have weighty subjects to broach
But for all our millennia of evolution
The name of the game's still reproduction
I wonder if we'll ever be
Even as evolved as sea anemones!

I think sometimes, about what it means to be transgender. I probe and probe for answers, because as the possibility for a new age of enlightenment and safety increases, the others want to know. I’ve come up with many answers, but I can hold to none. I don’t deserve to paint the definition of a culture with the limited experiences I’ve had. I don’t see myself in the transgender identified people allowed on television. I don’t see myself in the transgender identified people making news feeds and giving high profile interviews. And as my nation’s exposure to our culture increases, likely will their curiosity. Am I transgender? Do I have the right? I’ve heard doctors, psychiatrists, may refuse transgender patients access to hormone therapy based on how dedicated or convincing their portrayal of their identified gender. If you want to be a man or woman, you’ll have to look like the women and men on TV. If you want to be transgender, you’ll have to look like the trans identified people on TV. Every single one of us who has an active role as either participant or observer in our society is prey to the crisis of validity. Am I pretty enough? Am I strong enough? Am I brave enough? Mom enough? Dad enough? Competitive enough? Successful enough? Rich enough? **** enough? Pious enough? It never ends. We’re, as a nation of people, being crushed and compartmentalized by this ever present lens, looming over us, exploiting our weaknesses and fears so it may grow wider, and support itself as it follows us, seemingly forever into the future. And one of the worst fears this camera of existential torment exploits, in most of us every day, is, “Do I have a reflection?” “What does it look like?” “Do I look like me?” What does it mean to be transgender? I can’t get away from that question. But I don’t have an answer. There are varying degrees of anguish, depression, panic, anxiety, and other wonderful emotional states that creep up on you and breathe down your neck nearly every waking day. Absolute contempt for the lie of a life you’ve lived till now, and contempt for the fragments still stuck to you, in memories, attached to your body and mind. Fear of those in your own community who would purposefully humiliate, invalidate, or attack you, choosing their own universal moral code over the innate urge and capacity to support the health and continued well being of another human. A ******* neighbor. A ******* pupil. A ******* employee. A ******* sister, brother, son, daughter, mother, father, cousin, ******* blood. What is being transgender like? By my experiences, it’s just like being anyone else in the country. But with a lot more fear, death, exclusion and medication.