Dear Ex-Girlfriend, Learn To Be Bright... by Diamond Wynn

I've always wanted to now what lightening tasted like
and with outstretched jaw, love fell in.

You tasted like silent thunder
and told me, that i couldn't be any closer to sonic boom if i swallowed a firecracker.
So I loved you.

With skin like sandpaper, and razor sharp whit
You helped me realize
i had grown fond of girls with blades.
Only they could love me like i love myself.

Sunshine,

You were all liquid lava graceful
But you never let ash settle on my shoulders
before you got all broom sweep savior.
You promised me,
That you would never let me fall on my back.
Contracted scratches on my back.
You promised me...until you didn't.
And you never knew how to say sorry
So you tried to shove me in your pocket.
But im too much broken spine
from trying to origami myself into your head.

Ozone,

I thought i could fill the holes life bore into you
But I learned there's no cure
for the burn of Ultraviolet kiss.
I just wanted to fix you.
This was selfish of me.
Just because a heart is full of pitter pattter,
doesn't mean its rubber floor, playground proof.
Last night, i opened my chest
to see if the bruises from your boots were gone.
They weren't.
Instead,
Black and Blue shades of you
transformed into personified letters.
A being the meanest, Z being the kindest
this was backwards alphabet perfect.
24 colors, sandwiched between your emotional bookends
reminded me of the times I sat waiting for you to open up
the box i gave you on our first anniversary.
Inside was my pendant soul
dangling from cuff linked love
and you never even bothered to wear it.
I guess stars are too proud to wear the source of their shine around their necks.

Moonlight,

You told me once,
that if i closed my eyes when we kissed,
I could feel the beauty of the Nile River on my bones.
You lied. Those were just your hands.
You were always good at those types of lies.
Honestly,
did you think i was too stupid
to differentiate between the liquid glory of great Queens
and the sweaty palm of a little girl?

Skyline,

You are broken butterfly.
Don't tell me to pray things get better.
It frustrates me.
My pleas will only collect dust in heaven's workshop.
Baby...
Jesus may be a carpenter
But God has arthritis.
His hands fell weak too many wars ago
and when he dipped them in healing waters,
they emerged oil black.
He's a little busy right now.

Women,

Lets just fix this.
We've been unstuck for too many sunsets
and I'm gonna need you to stop calling me Elmer's.

Whats the problem?

You've already branded Amistad on my tongue.
Let's go.
Let go.
Give me my aura back.

Sunshine, Ozone, Moonlight, Skyline

You are not from the heavens
You are no lightening.
You are just girl.
Manufactured in a costume shop called Angels
and since I'm just a girl,
shoulder deep in clouds
you let me raise you pedestal high.
This felt like home to a runaway.
But you are heavy,
My wrists have broken,
and i cant carry lighthouses with broken bulbs.

These efforts are yellow flickers.
This was flashlight love.
The batteries are dead.
Get out of me.

Our short circuit spurts are exhausting.
We are pathetic.

My mother keeps warning me about my obsession with the sky,
but I've always been the type to stick wet fingers in sockets
just because i have a thing for sparks...

Tune Out Mondays-Ani Difranco

Ani Difranco is a powerhouse. She is an out musician and has been performing since the early 90s. She started her own record label, righteous babe records and has produced over 20 album, one of which won a grammy.

Imagine That
http://www.youtube.com/watch#!v=M5VrXTqFtbM&feature=related


Writing prompt: write a poem that is a series of hypothetical statements. Start with the phrase "imagine that" or use if. Imagine that you were a lily or imagine that you lived on the moon...if you didn't turn the corner...

Speak Out Fridays Bryan Safi

http://current.com/shows/infomania/92509862_thats-gay-gay-pride.htm

Bryan Safi reflects on this year's LGBT news topics...what is your reaction to any of these stories? What's your gay new years resolution?

WRite Off Weds. Andrea Gibson

"but i'm the eternal night
writing rhymes about wind chimes and world peace
while even in my sleep
i'm fighting wars that grind the enamel off my teeth"

Full Poem: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-c6y_-ZlC0

Andrea Gibson won the women of the world slam in 2008. She has four full length albums and a book of poetry. She is queer and I believe she identifies as a lesbian.

Writing prompt: What wars are you fighting right now? (i.e. recent break up, coming out to your parents, your best friend stole your favorite shirt)

Tune Out Mondays-Me'shell Ndegeocello

"Me'shell Ndegeocello was born Michelle Johnson in Berlin, Germany and raised in Washington DC. By the early 90's, she had landed in New York armed with a demo recorded in her bedroom, joined the Black Rock Coalition, and was soon signed to Madonna's label. Her records, 8 to date, have offered lyrical ruminations on race, love, sex, betrayal, God, and power." Me'shell is openly bisexual.

http://www.youtube.com/watch#!v=Dc_IztrYu5Q&feature=related

Artist: Me'shell Ndegeocello
Song: My Soul Don't Dream

Writing Prompt: What doesn't your soul do? (i.e. laundry, lie, love, the dishes ...be creative with it!)

Write off Weds

"Marty McConnell transplanted herself from Chicago to New York City in 1999, after completing the first of three national tours with the Morrigan, an all-female performance poetry troupe she co-founded. She received her MFA in creative writing/poetry from Sarah Lawrence College, and competed in six National Poetry Slams with the NYC/louderARTS team." She was also on def jam poetry and has many publications. She is queer but I'm not quite sure exactly how she identifies.

Joan of Arc to the $2,000-An-Hour Woman

Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PLnNSqu6naM&feature=player_embedded#!

Poem:
Jason would be saying, "Natalia is the greatest escort in the history of the world, as good as Cleopatra or Joan of Arc," and I'd be like, "Jason! Joan of Arc was not an escort, she was a religious martyr."
- New York Magazine, July 18, 2005

at least your pimp has a name, a neck
you could put your two good hands around.
he loves you like all men love
what they sell, what comes back
in gold. make no mistake, my God
was a man: men with their mouths
at the entrance to the cave, whispering,
men dripping hallucinogens into the milk,
men insisting lead us, lead us, have this horse
this sword this sentence this pyre. men naked
under their robes, their armor, their teeth
bartering my skin for their country, a cause
I would have sworn was mine.
Cleo and I place bets on women like you.
from this distance, your dance looks like ours.
and Vashti's, and Salom's, and Helen's,
and you're acquainted with the Magdalene.
our mythical knees locked or spread,
bringing men to theirs and us to the gallows
the tower the stake / trade your corset for a habit
and they'll hate you all the same: whatever cannot
be possessed is poison. the body is never bought
but rented which is why he wants your heart, bound
like feet, dancing only for him.
let me tell you something about possession: never
let a man dictate your wingspan or your footwear.
there's a god on every corner and not one
would have you mortgage your given body
for this man and his fur-lined tongue. don't think
I don't know about love; more goes unreported
in history than in myth. sell your story, Natalia,
before they scrape it from under your fingernails
as evidence / cut your hair. buy a building
in Brooklyn. lay down on a bed of teeth, alone.
peel back their fingerprints one by one, each incision
the hot face of a god, unfolding.


Writing Prompt- write a list of people in today's pop culture (movie stars, musicians, politicians) write a separate list of people from pop culture of previous decades ( i.e. marilyn monroe, Miles Davis ) Choose one from each and write a poem where the past person writes to the future person ie.-Marilyn Monroe to Katy Perry

Tune out Mondays 6.14

Missy Higgins is a 24 yr old Australian singer-song writer. She has won
numerous awards and has released two full length albums, most recently On
A Clear Night. You can see her perform at Lilith Fair this summer. She is
also openly bisexual.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3f8kafNkjE&feature=related

Writing Prompt: Write a poem entirely based on sounds. If you're stuck,
pay attention to things you do in your daily routine and try giving a
sound to them...what is the sound of the morning or what is the sound that
your sandwich makes? Then try to incorporate these into a poem.

Speak Out Fridays 7/11

http://www.feministing.com/archives/021382.html

This a commercial for Mcdonald's that aired in France. What do you think?
Do you think this could have been showed in the US?

Writing Prompt: write a poem using the idea "come as you are" and what
that means to you. Have you been able to be who you are?

Write off wednesdays

Federico Garcia Lorca was born in Spain and moved to New York in 1929. He was a poet and playwright. He returned to Spain to participate in the Spanish Civil War but was murdered as a rebel. Garcia Lorca wrote a lot about his native country, the war, and New York. He was gay but struggled with this for most of his life.

Dawn

Dawn in New York has
four columns of mire
and a hurricane of black pigeons
splashing in the putrid waters.

Dawn in New York groans
on enormous fire escapes
searching between the angles
for spikenards of drafted anguish.

Dawn arrives and no one receives it in his mouth
because morning and hope are impossible there:
sometimes the furious swarming coins
penetrate like drills and devour abandoned children.

Those who go out early know in their bones
there will be no paradise or loves that bloom and die:
they know they will be mired in numbers and laws,
in mindless games, in fruitless labors.

The light is buried under chains and noises
in the impudent challenge of rootless science.
And crowds stagger sleeplessly through the boroughs
as if they had just escaped a shipwreck of blood.

Writing prompt: Write a poem about your experience is NYC. What is your New York like?

Off My Chest

A feeling so uncomfortable that I can't really describe,

basically you hurt me when you lied, You played your little mind games now I'm so destressed I don't know what to do with this burning in my chest.

Now I'm finally over you .. baby dont be surprised... I came back a new woman and I'm not hiding in disguise. Finally on my feet again... doing me for once...not worried about a girl to be..just living my life doing me living headache free.. not worried about you and me.

Tune Out Mondays writing prompt-Uh Huh Her

Uh Huh Her is an L.A. based band consisting of Leisha Hailey and Camila
Grey. They just released their debut album Common Reaction. You might
recognize Leisha Hailey from the L word; she played Alice. She is also an out lesbian.

Not A Love Song by Uh Huh Her
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uQ9iPPfOMvM

Prompt: Write a poem that it is not a about something. Not a love poem, Not a Monday... This can be a great way to help you write about something that you have been having trouble with. As a starting point, just pick a topic and write everything that it isn't.

As always send us your poems, leave us a message on the wall, or reply to the n

by Jaime Torres

chasing stars at night, 
they run away like fireflies. 
the rain drops take me back home, 
to that place where everything seemed fair. 
im the only one that's seen you cry and yet to fight it. 
only in my dreams am i truly alive, the sun awakens my senses, 
you know how it feels.... the feel good drag. life only becomes 
easier when you decide to live it

Untitled by Brittany Kuoha

this is what i came up with.  my mind is racing but the pacing of my heart is slowing, bracing for something on its way.  i don't know what is coming but i sit here humming slow melodies, and bumming thoughts from everyone else.  i don't know what this means  but i feel like i need to clean my mind, before i scream because this is too much.  so i'm lying here trying to relax staring at the ceiling, i let everything fly past cuz maybe if i don't focus this will be the last time i'll have to deal with this.  maybe with some sleep i'll be able to keep my mind on beat and maybe, just maybe, i won't freak.

Write a New Note Out in the Summer Series- Speak out Fridays

Every Friday there will be a post about relevant news topics regarding LGBT youth nation wide and world wide.

Today's story is about Derrek Lutz. Derrek is from NJ and identifies as a cross dresser. He wanted to wear a dress and heels to his prom but had to fight the school for permission. Derrek gained the support and not only went to prom but also won prom king!

Here's a link to the full story http://www.queerty.com/new-jerseys-derrek-lutz-wore-a-dress-to-prom-and-was-crowned-prom-king-20100503/

"What makes me a woman is inside and it doesn't really matter what's on the outside. And everyone should really just be treated equally," Lutz said.

Write a poem in response to Derrek's story. If you have trouble starting it, try starting with today, I did something I thought I would never do...

Don't forget to send us your poems or post them in your own note and tag us on Facebook!

HAPPY FRIDAY!!

Far Away by Phalon Narwhal

imes are good, and so is young life.

overdue embraces and wholesome talk.

spinning and yelling,

deep in the city,

attempting to capture the moments

with a quick c l i c k.

seeing you
is crawling for days in a hot forest
and taking the very first leap
into a waiting, knowing, riverside

here comes the flood.
what to do first? what not to do first.
what to do last? what not to do last.
what to put off,
what to do now.
what to say to you.
what honest things to say to you,
what to keep to myself

how to look at you, or look into you.
either way,
better hold on,
hold on with crossed stubborn arms,
for these memories are worth far more than liquid gold.

seeing you is the very first leap
into a waiting, knowing, riverside.

the love of my life,
is the love that exists
between good friends and i.

so young and full of dreams are we
let's make plans without writing them down
let's speak how we want and do what we want
let's be loud together like good friends are
and disregard what others think about it

goodbyes are for those
who will not meet again; not us,
for at the bounds of a few selected paths
that our early souls have not yet walked,
are several more
very first leaps
into a waiting, knowing riverside.

"i just wanted to hold..."

see you.

by Christopher Vasquez

If we grow to determine that defeat is inevitable to the fact that

strength can over come even the most severe and upright outcomes...

We come to learn that only moving forward is our test to greater

achievement... Can it just be possible with will power comes only of the

best

I come to say never proclaim what sets you back, but empower what

sets you forth... So true, but only believed In the mind will it be

something of a necessary to go by when fate has you set down and in

time of seeking a possible climax to a unruly setting
Take the time to witness the invisible, look beyond what's supposedly

seen, and embody triumph over defeat... Simply just spoken words

from a body of battles with scars to tell a story of over coming just the

impossible!!!

A Promising Future by Christopher Vasquez

Take the time to see me as is, when you realize I am gone, is when you

will search for something that is long past due.
Wake up to find yourself alone, sleeping with the one who doesn't

complete you, a stranger he becomes, sunken to depression, denial

sets in.
A perfect opportunity was given, but so caught up in the act of

infatuation, games were played, hearts were left to mend, and karma

only came around to settle the score... Never fortunate, a love was lost

over childish actions, temptation struck, so weak you gave in and

gambled all your love away, just to set the stakes high for a new chance

at being in love with the impossible.

Regret surfaces, too late to go back to what's convenient, left now to

live n learn something new, unwillingly with no choice, destined to

grow to what's your supposed other half. When you come to question

your past, its only natural to try and risk it all again for that perfect

beginning, but as always, when you leave the best for something better,

and you finally realize you had the best, the best has soon found

better...
In an act to reclaim your prize, you juggle losing out on what's holding

you, to jump to what you pray will catch you, too late in the game, you

fall, alone you are, tears fall, no moves to makes in this game... game

over, one final thought awakes... Possibly start all over and hope not to

mess up what may just be your very conclusion, but a promising future

is not what's to be expected, just for fact, although third times a

charm, three's a crowd and for every two that bond, one is left alone...

What makes you so sure this time that the next one you claim as your

half, won't already be a whole, just merely taking you as a chance

you've once taken to find what is to be a promising future!!! xoxo

Write Off Weds.

Every Weds. there will be a poem posted by a historically queer or out writer.

Audre Lorde (1934-1992) Lorde was an activist , feminist, and poet who fought against racism, sexism, and homophobia believing that they all stemmed from the same inability to tolerate difference. She published 9 volumes of poetry and 5 works of prose. From Inside an Empty Purse Money cannot buy you what you want standing flatfooted and lying like a grounded chestnut unlovable and suspect I am trying to reach you on whatever levels you flow from treacherous growing water in a blind tongueless pond. I am the thread of your woman’s cloth the sexy prison that protects you deep and unspoken flesh around your freedom I am your enemy’s face. The money doesn’t matter so much as the lie telling you don’t know why in a dream I am trying to reach you before you fall in to me. Write a poem from the perspective of an object that you use everyday. For example, from the inside of your book bag or from the inside of a metro card. Describe what the object is used for and what it might be like to actually see life as that object. If you get stuck try using the phrase “I am” like in the poem…”I am the thread of your woman’s cloth” Send us your poems or post questions/comments on the fb page or respond to the note

Tune Out Mondays 5/31 by Megan and Nina

"How often have we built each other as shelters"

cocooned around each other like one leaf over the other

building bricks out of the sunrise

no bigger, no smaller but safety is the goal here. And our shelters block out grimaces and hatred- harsh winds and battered women

darkness doesn't matter much anymore

Acid rain evaporates from the floor of our dislikes and festers on the ceiling of our

dissatisfieds

watching reflections dance your eyes. greener shores and longer summers

puts on warm fires with the dreads of wet molasses

but it's not acid and it's not sweet so excuses won't work this time

You were the first time I tried to fold myself into the skyline

I thought about the door, the exit clearly marked

the numbing silence of bedsheets and squeaking frames

but kisses make us dry and words make us wet and shelters become crowded, cocoons disintegrate

We were always almost, almost broken. A half step flat, sung streets into symphonies

Butterflies can fly when it's dry. only are free when they exit

hips click and fit perfectly. You forgot I have no rhythm

Breaking out my wings with stringy mucous and cracking joints

battle scars in stares

thrust up and fly free

the first time you touched me I shivered. all collarbone and waiting

fly side by side with me

I have waited for you. waited from you so many stanzas ago

I can never write you right. never right this writing

until it's over me

We walked faster

side by side with me

we kept running