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