The pain is real yet no one can see the part of me that needs to be free a heart thats broken to the core love ever leaving me wanting more this path is hard I have choosen to walk needing to cleanse away your toxic talk I allowed my heart bit by bit to…

I am not broken I don’t need to be fixed I am not damaged goods to be found in the bargain basement I am unique I have standards If you don’t meet my standards there is no place in my life for you That doesn’t make me better than you It says I know who…

I am blowing the whistle on nostalgia Definition: A sentimental longing or wistful affection for A period or place with happy personal associations Of course there’s a time and place to grieve. And There’s more time behind me now than in front memories good and sad I once feared most  that I would never Feel…

Sent in by Anne Lee Being transgender defines it’s own loneliness. The pain of being transgender is almost indescribable. The loneliness, the sadness, the guilt, the shame, the anger, the fear of discovery, the absolute human anguish, all trapped inside your head… and no one in your life has a clue. It gets compounded by…

Where are all the queens? There use to be queens everywhere But now There are queens unfound wearing masks No crown No one around Only corrupt law makers Not leaders And nothing Where are all the lovers? There use to be enough Too many I guess i screwed it up Not you And now no…

Round and round we go In various states of undress Doors shut Windows closed The collective lockdown meltdown Throwing us Into caverns of I want– I miss– I hate– Clockwork orange intensity– This mountain top initiation By fire Is for the many Not the few To see, to hear, to feel We need to get…

Looking into the icy reflections Steaming up the show To mimic and personify. Love that grows, Unfolds. Behold the foretold. Beauty of old. Valuable as gold. Being sold, By the fold Was too bold Echoing the cold. Imagine mirrors and mask Engines of the past Do not follow and grasp Embodied task. Emulate vast. Gently…

I’m gifting you a country to roam optical choices filled with endless beauty Stormy illusions ahead conquering strong boulder caves roaring rivers blocked bridges finding your way Roam for your freedom Roam for your love Roam for the gift of life

My mother set the house on fire once She was cooking chips There was a power cut She left the chip pan on the stove So took us to the archaeology museum And while we were studying the fossils and neolithic man The power came back on again. The oil caught fire.   The day…

And then I learned the spiritual journey had nothing to do with being nice. It was about being real, authentic. Having boundaries. Honouring my space first. Others second and in the space of Self Care being nice just happened it flowed not motivated by fear but by love