When I was a kid
I used to think that pork chops and karate chops
were the same thing
I thought they were both pork chops
and because my grandmother thought it was cute
and because they were my favorite
she let me keep doing it

not really a big deal

one day
before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees
I fell out of a tree
and bruised the right side of my body

I didn't want to tell my grandmother about it
because I was afraid I'd get in trouble
for playing somewhere that I shouldn't have been

a few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise
and I got sent to the principal's office
from there I was sent to another small room
with a really nice lady
who asked me all kinds of questions
about my life at home

I saw no reason to lie
as far as I was concerned
life was pretty good
I told her "whenever I'm sad
my grandmother gives me karate chops"

this led to a full scale investigation
and I was removed from the house for three days
until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises

news of this silly story quickly spread through the school
and I earned my first nickname

pork chop

to this day
I hate pork chops

I'm not the only kid
who grew up this way
surrounded by people who used to say
that rhyme about sticks and stones
as if broken bones
hurt more than the names we got called
and we got called them all
so we grew up believing no one
would ever fall in love with us
that we'd be lonely forever
that we'd never meet someone
to make us feel like the sun
was something they built for us
in their tool shed
so broken heart strings bled the blues
as we tried to empty ourselves
so we would feel nothing
don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone
that an ingrown life
is something that surgeons can cut away
that there's no way for it to metastasize

it does

she was eight years old
our first day of grade three
when she got called ugly
we both got moved to the back of the class
so we would stop getting bombarded by spit *****
but the school halls were a battleground
where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day
we used to stay inside for recess
because outside was worse
outside we'd have to rehearse running away
or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there
in grade five they taped a sign to her desk
that read beware of dog

to this day
despite a loving husband
she doesn't think she's beautiful
because of a birthmark
that takes up a little less than half of her face
kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer
that someone tried to erase
but couldn't quite get the job done
and they'll never understand
that she's raising two kids
whose definition of beauty
begins with the word mom
because they see her heart
before they see her skin
that she's only ever always been amazing

he
was a broken branch
grafted onto a different family tree
adopted
but not because his parents opted for a different destiny
he was three when he became a mixed drink
of one part left alone
and two parts tragedy
started therapy in 8th grade
had a personality made up of tests and pills
lived like the uphills were mountains
and the downhills were cliffs
four fifths suicidal
a tidal wave of anti depressants
and an adolescence of being called popper
one part because of the pills
and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty
he tried to **** himself in grade ten
when a kid who still had his mom and dad
had the audacity to tell him "get over it" as if depression
is something that can be remedied
by any of the contents found in a first aid kit

to this day
he is a stick of TNT lit from both ends
could describe to you in details the way the sky bends
in the moments before it's about to fall
and despite an army of friends
who all call him an inspiration
he remains a conversation piece between people
who can't understand
sometimes becoming drug free
has less to do with addiction
and more to do with sanity

we weren't the only kids who grew up this way
to this day
kids are still being called names
the classics were
hey stupid
hey spaz
seems like each school has an arsenal of names
getting updated every year
and if a kid breaks in school
and no one around chooses to hear
do they make a sound?
are they just the background noise
of a soundtrack stuck on repeat
when people say things like
kids can be cruel?
every school was a big top circus tent
and the pecking order went
from acrobats to lion tamers
from clowns to carnies
all of these were miles ahead of who we were
we were freaks
lobster claw boys and bearded ladies
oddities
juggling depression and loneliness playing solitaire spin the bottle
trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal
but at night
while the others slept
we kept walking the tightrope
it was practice
and yeah
some of us fell

but I want to tell them
that all of this ****
is just debris
leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought
we used to be
and if you can't see anything beautiful about yourself
get a better mirror
look a little closer
stare a little longer
because there's something inside you
that made you keep trying
despite everyone who told you to quit
you built a cast around your broken heart
and signed it yourself
you signed it
"they were wrong"
because maybe you didn't belong to a group or a clique
maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything
maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth
to show and tell but never told
because how can you hold your ground
if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it
you have to believe that they were wrong

they have to be wrong

why else would we still be here?
we grew up learning to cheer on the underdog
because we see ourselves in them
we stem from a root planted in the belief
that we are not what we were called we are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting
empty on a highway
and if in some way we are
don't worry
we only got out to walk and get gas
we are graduating members from the class of
******* we made it
not the faded echoes of voices crying out
names will never hurt me

of course
they did

but our lives will only ever always
continue to be
a balancing act
that has less to do with pain
and more to do with beauty

To This Day by Shane Koyczan
To This Day
When I was a kid
I used to think that pork chops and karate chops
were the same thing
I thought they were both pork chops
and because my grandmother thought it was cute
and because they were my favourite
she let me keep doing it

not really a big deal

one day
before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees
I fell out of a tree
and bruised the right side of my body

I didn’t want to tell my grandmother about it
because I was afraid I’d get in trouble
for playing somewhere that I shouldn’t have been

a few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise
and I got sent to the principal’s office
from there I was sent to another small room
with a really nice lady
who asked me all kinds of questions
about my life at home

I saw no reason to lie
as far as I was concerned
life was pretty good
I told her “whenever I’m sad
my grandmother gives me karate chops”

this led to a full scale investigation
and I was removed from the house for three days
until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises

news of this silly little story quickly spread through the school
and I earned my first nickname

pork chop

to this day
I hate pork chops

I’m not the only kid
who grew up this way
surrounded by people who used to say
that rhyme about sticks and stones
as if broken bones
hurt more than the names we got called
and we got called them all
so we grew up believing no one
would ever fall in love with us
that we’d be lonely forever
that we’d never meet someone
to make us feel like the sun
was something they built for us
in their tool shed
so broken heart strings bled the blues
as we tried to empty ourselves
so we would feel nothing
don’t tell me that hurts less than a broken bone
that an ingrown life
is something surgeons can cut away
that there’s no way for it to metastasize

it does

she was eight years old
our first day of grade three
when she got called ugly
we both got moved to the back of the class
so we would stop get bombarded by spit *****
but the school halls were a battleground
where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day
we used to stay inside for recess
because outside was worse
outside we’d have to rehearse running away
or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there
in grade five they taped a sign to her desk
that read beware of dog

to this day
despite a loving husband
she doesn’t think she’s beautiful
because of a birthmark
that takes up a little less than half of her face
kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer
that someone tried to erase
but couldn’t quite get the job done
and they’ll never understand
that she’s raising two kids
whose definition of beauty
begins with the word mom
because they see her heart
before they see her skin
that she’s only ever always been amazing

he
was a broken branch
grafted onto a different family tree
adopted
but not because his parents opted for a different destiny
he was three when he became a mixed drink
of one part left alone
and two parts tragedy
started therapy in 8th grade
had a personality made up of tests and pills
lived like the uphills were mountains
and the downhills were cliffs
four fifths suicidal
a tidal wave of anti depressants
and an adolescence of being called popper
one part because of the pills
and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty
he tried to **** himself in grade ten
when a kid who still had his mom and dad
had the audacity to tell him “get over it” as if depression
is something that can be remedied
by any of the contents found in a first aid kit

to this day
he is a stick on TNT lit from both ends
could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends
in the moments before it’s about to fall
and despite an army of friends
who all call him an inspiration
he remains a conversation piece between people
who can’t understand
sometimes becoming drug free
has less to do with addiction
and more to do with sanity

we weren’t the only kids who grew up this way
to this day
kids are still being called names
the classics were
hey stupid
hey spaz
seems like each school has an arsenal of names
getting updated every year
and if a kid breaks in a school
and no one around chooses to hear
do they make a sound?
are they just the background noise
of a soundtrack stuck on repeat
when people say things like
kids can be cruel?
every school was a big top circus tent
and the pecking order went
from acrobats to lion tamers
from clowns to carnies
all of these were miles ahead of who we were
we were freaks
lobster claw boys and bearded ladies
oddities
juggling depression and loneliness playing solitaire spin the bottle
trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal
but at night
while the others slept
we kept walking the tightrope
it was practice
and yeah
some of us fell

but I want to tell them
that all of this ****
is just debris
leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought
we used to be
and if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself
get a better mirror
look a little closer
stare a little longer
because there’s something inside you
that made you keep trying
despite everyone who told you to quit
you built a cast around your broken heart
and signed it yourself
you signed it
“they were wrong”
because maybe you didn’t belong to a group or a click
maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything
maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth
to show and tell but never told
because how can you hold your ground
if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it
you have to believe that they were wrong

they have to be wrong

why else would we still be here?
we grew up learning to cheer on the underdog
because we see ourselves in them
we stem from a root planted in the belief
that we are not what we were called we are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on a highway
and if in some way we are
don’t worry
we only got out to walk and get gas
we are graduating members from the class of
******* we made it
not the faded echoes of voices crying out
names will never hurt me

of course
they did

but our lives will only ever always
continue to be
a balancing act
that has less to do with pain
and more to do with beauty.

Have you ever herded humans to LOVE?
I have traveled a thousand miles
By foot to reach my BELOVEDz home

Have you ever bowed down and surrendered?
I have kissed the feet of my BELOVEDz

From the center of my heart
To the place where my BELOVEDz stays
Though seems from mountains to the ocean
But the stream of water flows uphills

There is this small town
In the oceanic blue scape
With humid tropics and scented rain

In the curvature up-down hill roads
With green trees lined by the fields
Between the town and
The destination to no where
There is the tiny abode -
My BELOVEDz lives

Up one flight of stairs to heaven
Where the wind blows stronger
With every rain gush hitting the verandah grill
My BELOVEDz stands, watching her life
Through the dogs and cats raining skies

Oh..! worrying about LOVE and
Those uncertainties beyonds life

As I stand over there -
Below her grilled verandah window
Drenched in rain, pouring over...
My filthy 1000 miles walked torned dress

Yes that is the place I find my BELOVEDz
Standing near the window grill -
Like Shakespeare's when Romeo and Zuliet meet

She looks at me and smiles
Was it me - her LOVER she was waiting for?

Like Romeo I can't climb up the grill -
She knows...
Thus she runs down the flight
Jumping down steps - skipping 2-3 at a time
And rushes out to embrace me
Within my arms, hugs and kisses
Yes - I am the LOVER she  waited for...!

For us,
Loving each other
WE realize... now

LOVE is nurturing
LOVE is penance
LOVE is wisdom
LOVE is patience
LOVE is compassion
LOVE is waiting
LOVE is courage
LOVE is our SOUL
LOVE is our ONENESS

That day in the rains
If someone saw us like that
Entangled within each other
They will smile and say:

LOVERS - Under in rain
*LOVERS - became "ONE"

--We live in a broken world--
A reality where man must prove that he is true
Wearing the white cape of justice
Wielding the piercing blade of truth
And puncturing the shadowy veil of evil
Man must act
Grasping the medals he is awarded
Framing the honors he has received
The small bleary eyed boy
With his fathers helmet atop his head
Will grow to fight his own battles
Uphills
And down steep slopes
But he shall take up his fathers sword
And wield it once more
In the field of battle it shall cut through the shroud
With silken cape trailing behind him
And evil shall be vanquished

--However--

We do indeed live in a broken world
And the greed of man has seeped through and through
Infecting the positions of kings
Poisoning the lips of law
And in this broken world
Where a soldier of peace as ironic it may be heard
Will need to pierce the veil within himself
Where the dark has slowly grasped
And where doubt has taken root
For shall he do as commanded
Or fasten the helmet upon his head
In defiance
Becoming the enemy of the kingdom he once so loved
The white knight of justice will choose
And he shall be revered as the traitorous blood
Who turned his back to his fellow man
But in his heart
In this broken world
He shall know he still holds his fathers honor
Forever and ever
--Man's white knight--

I ran the slopes
Ran uphills
And downhills
Ran till I came
To a stand still.

The beautiful view
reminded me of you,
Across the buildings
of the cities
were gravestones.

You would call them
zombie revival spots
where things rot
and people
wished they didn't
have reserved
parking spots.

I know the bouquets after bouquets
of flowers won't bring you back
But I don't know why I still try
I don't know why I still cry
I don't know why I still sigh.

Every time I drive to you
Or I would run to you
I can remember the things
The things that we used to do
I can remember
When I first met you
When I first hugged you
I can remember
Making you laugh at "oh poo".

I don't know why I'm still
Like the way I am,
Floating back and forth
All over memories of you.
I guess it's because
you put the skies together
We made pie together (or at least tried to)...

I don't know if you can hear it from up there
Tiff's baby boy, little guys already walking...

I keep buying you flowers,
Will you ever come back,
You've taught me to be afraid
So afraid of trusting another person
That when everything goes right
someone somehow just disappears,
and you know what...
you haven't exactly been wrong.

I tell people what they want to hear
I tell them what I know keeps them
Ok.
But I haven't heard anyone say to me
That one day I will forget you...
And I wish I could...
But I know I definitely couldn't.

I still have every email
Every text message
Every single line smiley
Every photo
Every video
Everything ...
I still open them once in a while,
I read them with tears and smiles.
Strange huh?

No matter how many flowers I leave
There won't be a morning where I wake up
And your face is looking down on mine
(like the time you broke into my house... remember? )...
I would give anything,
To see you once more.
Not in photos
Not in videos
But in front of me.
I miss you

Dear life, dear destiny,
take me Up To that enormously unending  uphills,
where nothing but hope, applauds one's will.
the virtues smile, and crowns the will.
Yet, dear peace,I beg you still,
to stay, Stay, and stay  still.
For these miles may be long,
and you're an essence to one's minuty minute will
with you and patience, and a little will
I know, it will last till the end of my skills

barebone and *******
we ride the bikes
on a windy night

no metal slate top
rest on our head
or rule our kind

barebone and *******
we ride the bikes
on a windy night

we own the roads
just as we dare
to own the world

barebone and *******
we ride the bikes
on a windy night

we sunbath under the
streetlights, our guide
as the city grinds

barebone and *******
we ride the bike
on a windy night

we pump our feet, swell
rolling uphills and-
down with the bills

barebone and *******
we ride the bikes
on a windy night