I think I trust too many and know I judge too few. I empathize with the martyr almost as much as I do the one who cracks the whip. I know those with hate and cruelty flushed across their faces had a stern hand beat ideology into them from birth. The rage and fear screamed … Continue reading Chains and Stones (a poem about self-oppression)
power
a flower, a tool (a poem)
A clove, a clutch, a trussell A bramble, a bundle and rush Buffoons, balloons, the fools Are tools, rust sweat at noon they must. The nails all rolled and wrangled In the endless tussle fuss, But never rough the newfangled They rather would gather dust. All while thorns for horn wood Thatch the thistle born … Continue reading a flower, a tool (a poem)
To 1-B (a poem about power)
The feeling is emboldening, Perhaps. It is as if . . . I have been a Pawn My whole life. Crossing straight through a board Not a care in the mind, Marching along to the orders, A system designed To force my expiry, And all of those like me. By our own hands, No … Continue reading To 1-B (a poem about power)
Ha Ha Horse Fly Forest (a poem about casual racism)
They all laughed.
Adults are all liars (a poem about growing up)
We heaped lies on lies to cover up lies, We lied because we wanted appeal. We had never even known anything else, We did it to make ourselves feel real.
Why is she beautiful? (a poem)
Her beauty laid in the grace with which she handled hearts, how she knew where the cracks of hurt were, without even asking.
“Sexism in the world of literature… what’s your story?” (an informal essay)
The publishing and media industries peddle to our sense of sympathy and morality in desperate attempts to not be absorbed by their competitors. They accomplish this by keeping company missions in line with the majority opinions on various social media platforms. Everything about our lives, down to our opinions, is actively being collected and sold by data harvesting corporations. Our way of thinking is up for sale.
Is this enough for you? (a poem)
The foundations to be shaken were already taken down By hands and unheard voices mistaken Of the downtrodden, low-down found out To be rotten, begotten of times and rhymes designed To ride the fine lines dividing divines
Red (a narrative horror epic)
Hooks to my teeth It pries open My mouth Chills rattle Down the base Of my skull To the marrow Of my sacrum
Black Sun
The bright sun struck three The black sun struck twelve From there It was only screams From there It was only hell ~ They fled in droves They begged for mercy They all were massacred Bargained for time Betrayed their own A mad and twisted herd ~ Spoke not in words but tongues And nobody … Continue reading Black Sun
