Seventeen things you have to learn for yourself
as a Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Questioning, Intersex, Asexual, Pansexual
or otherwise Queer youth
by the time you are seventeen.

One is that the first Pride was a riot
I don’t mean that it was full of laughter, or that it was some grand party
where everyone spiraled up to dance among the stars
because the only glittering that night
was broken glass on cobblestones.
The first Pride was a riot
on the backstreets of New York
and they never tell us
that night
we won.
The only protest
in a decade full of turmoil
where the cops had to hide out in the bar they raided
and run from shouting rioters
who fought to reclaim the only patch of ground they had ever claimed as theirs
the first Pride was a riot,

and two, around the same time it took place
it was a debated topic in the gay community
whether or not they should say
that they weren’t mentally ill

which, three, homosexuality was removed
from the American Psychiatric Association’s list of mental illnesses
in 1974
congratulations
all it took was a vote to declare that, whoops, we were never mentally ill

except, four, there are still teenagers being tortured today
in what some dare blaspheme as “therapy”
used to destroy their self-identity
in the hopes of making them normal.
except, four, the queer community still carries overwhelmingly high rates for poverty and homelessness and depression.

Did you know that, five,
over half the children forced into conversion therapy
commit suicide?

And six, that lesbians
were regarded as “hangers-on”
of the movement
by much of the gay community
before the AIDS crisis?

Because it turns out, seven can wear a rainbow on your shirt
and still be a bigot.
There are people who stick rainbows in their ears
or wear them on their fingers
or slap them across their cheeks in badges of defiance
and will still hate you for the color of your skin
or the size of your thighs
or your gender
or the way you like to kiss two or more genders
or none of the above.
Don’t ask me why this happens
it just does
I think it might be that we’ve all been taught to hate ourselves
for so damn long
that we don’t understand what to do
in a space with no hate.
Or maybe it’s that the space seems too small, because

eight, there are people who will tell you that you are not enough
that you do not reach the magical benchmark of “gay enough” to pass through the gate even
especially
when you are some flavor of the rainbow other than straight-out gay.
eight, this is bullshit
eight, those people are bullshit.
eight, you are enough.
eight, there is always enough room.

nine, there is no overarching “homosexual agenda”
sorry
we’re all kind of flailing along in here trying to figure out some way to make it work
when most of us have nothing in common
except that society looked at us in different ways and decided we didn’t fit
so we could all go be misfits together
under one big rainbow flag

but just so you know, ten, there are plenty of other flags
there is one for you, I promise

and eleven, misfits may not all need the same things
but we need to stick together, especially in a world where

twelve—refer to point seven—there are lesbians who hate other lesbians
for having the audacity to be born in a body
that everyone looked at and saw “boy”
which brings me to

thirteen, there is so much to understand.

fourteen, you need to understand
because we need to stick together
and to stick together we do not have to be the same but we do have to understand
and it will be hard because
you were probably thrown into this world with no warning because

fifteen, being queer is not genetic and we are not unique among minorities
in that we collect our heritage through broken bits of history and research in a world constantly working to make those misfit bits go away
but we are unique in that when we try to prove our legacy
we can be laughed down
or re-erased
or flat out ignored
but I swear to you
you have a history as old as Alexander the Great
as beautiful as Sappho
as dignified as Abraham Lincoln
and as proud as Eleanor Roosevelt.

But even with that behind us
sixteen,
they have always watched us die.
because even though the bystander effect is bullshit, sixteen
Kitty Genovese was a lesbian, sixteen
Ronald Reagan is a mass murderer, sixteen
our children, your brothers and sisters and  siblings of all stripes and all colors and sexualities and genders are being murdered
through neglect
and rejection
and hate.

Sixteen, there is an entire generation of gay and bisexual men
missing from history
because the government chose to do nothing
when they were dying by the thousands.
sixteen, we died from the disease and died from going back into the closet and died for staying there and died for coming out,
sixteen, they laughed at us because they believed god was punishing us for daring to love,
sixteen, ashes of your forerunners rest on the lawn of the White House because
SIXTEEN, THEY HAVE ALWAYS WATCHED US DIE.

SEVENTEEN
you are allowed
to be angry.
You do not have to be one of the nice gays
or one of the nice trans people
or sweet or kind or educate the rest of the world in something less than a yell
you are allowed to be so furious it scalds your bones
at the way we are forgotten
and passed over
at the way, as soon as June becomes July
we are expected
to go back to dying in silence
and mourning our dead
and kissing all alone
when no one can be offended
at the sight of us.
You are allowed to be angry
and scream down the stars
to shatter like broken glass at your feet
because you know what?
The first Pride
was a riot.

October 11 (via spondee-soliloquy)

rhube:

bastardlybrendan:

fuckingrecipes:

facts-i-just-made-up:

I spent like 15 hours on this.

*impressed slow clap*

This was ridiculously pleasing to read out loud. 

This is a legitimately fine poem. I say so with my BA in English and Philosophy and my PhD. It’s DAMN HARD to write something like this. Be impressed, yo.

Dont feel too bad about the seasons thing! You are not the only one tbh and Ill share this to prove my point: Last year for my lit class we read a bunch of poems by an Australian author (which I sadly dont remeber) where she talked about the passing of time and mentioned spring leaving on September and I was so sure it was some kind of metaphor?? I even had a very heated disussion with my teacher about it hahaha

LMAAAAAAAO oh my god, yes that absolutely does make me feel better about it!! Thank you, Nonnie 🙂

I’m just laughing now, not beating myself up or anything – what a thing to forget!!! I solemnly and sternly told myself not to forget something so danged obvious… and then went ahead and forgot it anyway…! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

AND we’re sorta bombarded with reminders that we’re topsy turvy seasons-wise to Europe/the US  – like, we have fake-snow xmas decorations in nearly all of our shop windows. In the height of OUR ROASTING-HOT SUMMER.

(hhmmm, that poet sounds like either Banjo Patterson, Dorothea McKellar or Henry Kendall – they sure loved seasons as imagery!)

Famous Poems Rewritten as Limericks

thriceandonce:

chestnut-podfic:

blue-author:

mslorelei:

jessamygriffin:

eternalrisingphoenix:

ceruleancynic:

naamahdarling:

seananmcguire:

animatedamerican:

eriakit:

morkaischosen:

naamahdarling:

thepoetrycollection:

The Raven

There once was a girl named Lenore
And a bird and a bust and a door
And a guy with depression
And a whole lot of questions
And the bird always says “Nevermore.”

Footprints in the Sand

There was a man who, at low tide
Would walk with the Lord by his side
Jesus said “Now look back;
You’ll see one set of tracks.
That’s when you got a piggy-back ride.”

Response to ‘This Is Just To Say’

This note on the fridge is to say
That those ripe plums that you put away
Well, I ate them last night
They tasted all right
Plus I slept with your sister. M’kay?

Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening

There once was a horse-riding chap
Who took a trip in a cold snap
He stopped in the snow
But he soon had to go:
He was miles away from a nap.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

There was an old father of Dylan
Who was seriously, mortally illin’
“I want,” Dylan said
“You to bitch till you’re dead.
“I’ll be pissed if you kick it while chillin’.”

I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud

There once was a poet named Will
Who tramped his way over a hill
And was speechless for hours
Over some stupid flowers
This was years before TV, but still.

THE ONE FOR DO NOT GO GENTLE

IM CRYING

A chap from a faraway land
Said two big stone legs (topless) stand
An inscription fine
Reads “this shit’s all mine”
But all there’s to see is the sand.

OMFG,

The Second Coming

The falcon flies wider in scorn
All things fall apart, or are torn
And now, what rough beast
Will arise in the East
And slouch Bethlehemward to be born?

Edgar Allen Poe, “The Raven”:

Enthroned on the bust by the door,
The raven exclaims “Nevermore!”
It’s rather annoying,
For I was enjoying
My mourning for dear lost Lenore.

Edgar Allen Poe, “The Bells”:

Bells are quite noisy, it’s true,
And each has a quite distinct hue,
From silver and gold
Different stories are told,
Foretelling both glory and rue.

W. H. Auden, “Funeral Blues”:

Shut off the clocks and the phone,
And let no dog bark with his bone:
Let the planes overhead
Only say “he is dead”…
Now I’m sorry, there’s nobody home.

T. S. Eliot, “The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock”:

A man can walk down on the beach
Roll his pants up and munch on a peach;
He isn’t deluded
And won’t be included
By mermaids that sing each to each.

T.S. Eliot, “The Wasteland”:

You called me the hyacinth girl
When you gave sweet Shakespeare a whirl;
The city’s unreal,
And the dead men don’t feel,
So let’s let the storm warnings twirl.

Lewis Carroll, “The Jabberwock”:

‘Twas mimsy out there by the wabe
And all of the momewraths out grabe.
The Jabberwock’s dead
(Some kid took off its head,
And his father said “You’re my best babe!”).

Beowulf:

Terribly troubled, the Thane
Demanded defense from a Dane
For fierce in the fen
Mighty monsters maimed men
Great Grendal gave plenty of pain.

William Butler Yeats, “Stolen Child”:

Come on, human kid, and let’s go,
There’s so much to see and to show.
Run off with the fae,
Hurry fast, skip away,
And you’ll never a mortal life know!

John Keats, ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci":

The sedge is all dry; spring has sped,
And the birds that once sang have all fled.
The merciless dame
Goes on making her claim
To young hunks who keep winding up dead.

Lord Tennyson, “The Princess”:

The echoes keep fading away
With the splendor that ebbs with the day,
But the castle is grand
In this bright fairyland,
And there’s not that much else I can say.

Christina Rossetti, “Goblin Market”:

At goblin men we mustn’t stare,
And we shouldn’t go to their Fair.
Their fruit may seem tasty,
But we can’t be hasty,
And don’t let them play with your hair!

Oh my god, the Beowulf one.  Oh.

holy shit, the merciless dame is perfect

I love the jabberwock!

Shakespeare, Sonnet 18


Have I called you a summer’s day yet?

Like the sun, and ur makin me sweat

Even Death is dismayed

Cuz you castin’ no shade

An I wrote this so peeps won’t forget

I’m in awe.

The Tygre
William Blake

A tygre with dread symmetry
did burn so brilliantly 
that I asked with a fright
in the forest of night,
“Did God make the lamb and thee?”

Believe Me, if All Those Endearing Young Charms
Thomas Moore

My love whom I gaze on today,
if all your looks faded away
I would love you still more
than ever before
and in love with you always I’d stay.

The Lady of Shalott
Alfred, Lord Tennyson

A tender young lass from Shalott,
was forbidden to spy Camelot.
But within her mirror,
Lancelot did appear,
now the lass from Shalott is not.

Catullus 16
Catullus

To the old queens, Aurelius and Furius:
your criticism leaves me quite curious.
Do you think I am weak
because soft words I speak?
‘cause I’ll fuck both your faces, I’m serious.

@theaggresivepacifist

@tozettewrites


https://determamfidd.tumblr.com/post/151097213383/audio_player_iframe/determamfidd/tumblr_oe8rckFHDV1rb0mtv?audio_file=https%3A%2F%2Fa.tumblr.com%2Ftumblr_oe8rckFHDV1rb0mtvo1.mp3

morvidra:

determamfidd:

This is a recording of myself (EEP) reading aloud the awesome sonnet written by @morvidra for chapter 42 of Sansukh

It describes the circumstances – and consequences – of the fateful letters sent to Thranduil and Gloin in glorious, glorious iambic pentameter!

I’ve reproduced the poem under the cut for accessibility, but here is the original post – please go shower @morvidra with adulation 🙂

Violin playing by me (DOUBLE EEP). The tune is the renaissance dance air ‘Daphne’.

Keep reading

I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

I’M STILL LAUGHING.

It’s the way you read it like a high Shakespearean tragedy (with extra melodrama)

Two kingdoms, both alike in dignity…?

EXTREME HIGH DUDGEON, exactly!!! exit pursued by an oliphaunt! 😉

so glad you like it and that it made you laugh, Fee ❤ love you to bits. 


https://determamfidd.tumblr.com/post/151078340658/audio_player_iframe/determamfidd/tumblr_oe8rckFHDV1rb0mtv?audio_file=https%3A%2F%2Fa.tumblr.com%2Ftumblr_oe8rckFHDV1rb0mtvo1.mp3

This is a recording of myself (EEP) reading aloud the awesome sonnet written by @morvidra for chapter 42 of Sansukh

It describes the circumstances – and consequences – of the fateful letters sent to Thranduil and Gloin in glorious, glorious iambic pentameter!

I’ve reproduced the poem under the cut for accessibility, but here is the original post – please go shower @morvidra with adulation 🙂

Violin playing by me (DOUBLE EEP). The tune is the renaissance dance air ‘Daphne’.

Sonnet, by @morvidra

The letters with the news of love were sent

From Gondor’s battlefields, up to the North

Where valour held the orcish armies back,

And dwarves and elves alike did muster forth.

Most caref’ly crafted were these missives writ,

The word to break – to dull the hammer blow.

Long thought they spent upon them – then dispatched,

Them to their families – those recent foes.

Alas that fortune ever plays such jokes,

And placed these families both upon one ground

When they received the news – and then, once more,

Was battle seen anew within that mound.

O careless lovers – well-intentioned fools!

Send letters – yes! – but add a lot of booze!

Sonnet

morvidra:

I… yeah, I take no responsibility when my brain produces verse.

Inspired by @determamfidd‘s Sansukh – chapter 42.

The letters with the news of love were sent

From Gondor’s battlefields, up to the North

Where valour held the orcish armies back,

And dwarves and elves alike did muster forth.

Most caref’ly crafted were these missives writ,

The word to break – to dull the hammer blow.

Long thought they spent upon them – then dispatched,

Them to their families – those recent foes.

Alas that fortune ever plays such jokes,

And placed these families both upon one ground

When they received the news – and then, once more,

Was battle seen anew within that mound.

O careless lovers – well-intentioned fools!

Send letters – yes! – but add a lot of booze!

FEE OH MY GOD, THE BARD OF THE COMPANY YOU ARE

I AM HOWLING I GOTTA RECORD THIS, IT’S BRILLIANT!!! *hugs and hugs and hugs* THANK YOU SO SO MUCH!


https://determamfidd.tumblr.com/post/143161900268/audio_player_iframe/determamfidd/tumblr_o5xiytGYT91rb0mtv?audio_file=https%3A%2F%2Fa.tumblr.com%2Ftumblr_o5xiytGYT91rb0mtvo1.mp3

rishwrites:

determamfidd:

This is a stunning original poem by @rishwrites, It was inspired by Tauriel in Chapter 41 of Sansukh. 

The poem is posted here. Text under the cut for accessibility:

Keep reading

:O @determamfidd I’m the one sobbing now!!!

Ahhhh I am so glad you like it! It’s your beautiful words doing all the heavy lifting, :)))


https://determamfidd.tumblr.com/post/143107982078/audio_player_iframe/determamfidd/tumblr_o5xiytGYT91rb0mtv?audio_file=https%3A%2F%2Fa.tumblr.com%2Ftumblr_o5xiytGYT91rb0mtvo1.mp3

This is a stunning original poem by @rishwrites, It was inspired by Tauriel in Chapter 41 of Sansukh. 

The poem is posted here. Text under the cut for accessibility:


your life is shaped by this: no stone, never stone / not stone like ice / creeping / not stone, like jungle / growing. and you / not stone / never stone / you / golden / you / starlight on shipbow harp string / you / hurricane, storm, windswept trees / you / forest vines creeping, old roots crushing / you / phoenix burning / you / phoenix flying / you / phoenix bursting from gasping mouth. you / being phoenix.

you / soil leaching / you / mineral-stained earth.

you / phoenix burning.

you / ashes left behind.

efflorescence / Rishika Aggarwal © 2016 (inspired by Tauriel in chapter 41 of @determamfidd‘s lovely Sansûkh)


https://determamfidd.tumblr.com/post/143106899763/audio_player_iframe/determamfidd/tumblr_o5whnx2fQj1rvpb63?audio_file=https%3A%2F%2Fa.tumblr.com%2Ftumblr_o5whnx2fQj1rvpb63o1.mp3

jessicadupont91:

I did a voice recording of the song/story of Kári Orc-Hewer!

There is some buzzing, some robotics going on and my oh-crap-it’s-almost-midnight-English pronounciation, but hey!

oh good gravy, your voice AND this poem are almost more adorable than I can physically handle…! This is so lovely, THANK you!!