And when that kid in you falls,
turn around,
pick them up, dust them off,
then continue.
Trust me, you are gonna need that kid.
You are gonna need someone to remind you
that every weed is a flower,
just trying to make shit work,
that every jerk you ever encounter
is just another someone who somehow forgot
that it's okay to need a hug.
It's okay to be afraid.
“Tomorrow, I want to bring you a piece of paper with the telephone number of a taxi cab company that knows the exact address of my arms, so the day you need a hug I’m going to be there for that.”
"To This Day Project" - Awesome Video Shows What Words Can Do to Everyone
“To This Day Project” An Awesome Video by the award winning perfomer Shane Koyczan shows the importance of Words and how they can affect our lives in such a dramatic way. Powerful, Inspiring, and one of the best examples of what Words Can Do to All of Us… To This Day When I was a…
to this day project, shane koyczan, shane koyczan poem #PICTUREQUOTES, #THOUGHTS, #BLOG, #QUOTES
i would like to propose a new leah headcanon (using the knowledge that she likes both writing/poetry and music/musicians*coughfatincough*) and say that she definitely had a spoken word poetry phase
specifically for shane koyczan and his work with the short story long, hannah epperson, and dan mangan
“Maybe the best we can hope for is that those we leave behind find comfort in knowing, that we’re born out of love, and not science — That biology explains the how, but love explains the why.”
You're a philosopher. I am a poet. The way in which we both love is beautiful and without apology. When you tangle your legs in mine laying next to me in bed. When you ask me every morning if I want coffee, I hug and kiss you from behind when you make it. I lay on your lap and you tell me about Sartre and Camus and Michel de Montaigne, you kiss my neck softly as I read you the poetry I wrote when I was high or my favourite spoken word pieces from Shane Koyczan. In the morning, when I pretend I'm still asleep, I feel you roll over and gently touch my face and tell me how pretty I look. I can almost hear your heart catch in your throat when you do. Giving me your jackets even though they don't fit me because I'm cold, just draping it over my shoulders and holding me. The way you get a little jealous when we're at a party and I talk to someone for a little too long so you don't get to touch me. Even when we argue, we talk it out and lay there and hold each other for a while because we care about the other so much.
The sun is shining, and like Icarus I find myself flying close to your flame as I melt into your touch. My hubris falls away like feathers as I nestle into your chest and listen to the deep rhythm of your heart. Beating for love. Beating for me.
Surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones, as if broken bones hurts 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.