Poetry
Come in, Put your feet up, Sorry about the mess I’ve been so distracted with- A vague gesture met by a vacant stare, a Smile, Distracted by what? It’s been a while since we did this You know, I reply Turn on the oven for dinner, the shootings
Poetry
Stubborness went Too far, This time I know we yelled A lot I know you thought you were Right It’s hard to look at you and know You’re part of the reason there’s so much Fear You layer confusing normal over The parts of you that wish
Poetry
Toasted marshmallow in the fire of bridges burning I don’t know if I speak of me or my country What friends are left? I mean, who’s coming? We’ve abandoned most and lorded over the rest No one likes a bully Our legacy is British Blood and bones
Poetry
I felt the swing of the axe on my neck Vilified for womanhood, for Being born a little out of time Tight corsets and layers of skirt not enough to keep me dancing Rough hews of ship beneath soft leather boots On oceans I only dream of now Before the
Poetry
I am the one ravaged Everything is shallow My body left behind to waste in pools of Toxic waste, like, love I’ve never really had I wish I was dead It’s this phrase that holds my body up the way bones should I wish I was dead, instead
Poetry
Centrist President Dividing line between nothing sentiments and Talking points this country has forgotten He’s still fit to rule, I mean Lead, I mean Hold the line the same way RBG did We’ve been so busy talking about the bear, that We forgot about the man in the
Poetry
In one ear and out the other, or That’s what the nation held its breath for Turn on their own who turn on them, they want us to believe their victimhood Discount what we see with our own eyes, and What we hear with our own ears Raise our
Poetry
Democracy doesn’t die in darkness, actually But in a well -lit room where people, well, Rich people, well, All these people who’ve forgotten how to care Smile At the man who seeks to lead us downward They laugh genially at bad jokes and they Clap! They Clap He
Poetry
There’s danger in the air, but I have to go to work It smells like putrid anger out there Festering wound like, violence It rushes their bloodstreams like cocaine Freedom pounds their drum, supposedly, but I hear it like oppress us Kill us Put us in camps so they