Category: Uncategorized

Bread and circuses—
the stage they’ve set for us,
where the crowds are fed,
and the spectacle blinds our trust.

We’re all victims of random circumstance,
born into battles we never chose.
But when we rise to fight for change,
they rewrite our story,
ruin our names,
turning our heroes into foes.

Bread and circuses,
a feast for the eyes,
while the hands that feed us
dangle our lives like lies.

Like clowns on a stage,
we throw pies at each other—
faces full of filling,
blinding you and me.
The ringmaster made them all with deception—
delicious, but sugar-free.

Distractions sweet,
so we never see—
the chains that bind us,
the price of being free.

They’ll make us dance,
they’ll make us cheer,
while they steal what we hold dear.
And in the silence of our screams,
they offer bread,
and sell us dreams.

American humanity has spoken
their votes a napalm venom
spat mercilessly at their own wives
and daughters
we will not forget your cruelties
even when you beg
for forgiveness
the women and the marginalized
you claimed to love, cherish, protect
will not hear you
over the roar of our blackest inevitability

A damaging doctrine,
disguised as the truth.

They are only lies told
to keep you in line,

to keep you under their control.
They are only lies told in order

to hold you down,
to keep your soul from

being delivered into freedom—
to have you clutched in their

greedy hands, a treacherous power.
They do it to keep you in your chains.

This is a power that smothers,
a power that stops your heart,

rots your mind,
starts your wars.

Don’t ever believe them,
not ever, not one word of it.

The world’s doctrines
are not your truth.

Where does yr megalomania come from?
The central part of the mindset, hmm…
Almost every Gate of The Kingdom

It must be harder to think & feel

If such tyranny would allow me to speak
That could burn u alive from both ends
Or maybe it would incite insurrection

Like Zen gardens turned stormy

So how is it u fell out of step with life?
Making friends & enemies the same
If u don’t want to think about that

Live yr life of troubled sorrow

I met a traveler from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of gold
Stand in the desert…Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a nasty visage lies, whose sneer,
And fake-tanned face, and poof of orange hair,
Tell that its sculptor well those admonitions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless
things,
The hand that beat them, and the greed that fed,
And on the pedestal these words appear:
My name is Donald Trump, King of Things,
Look on my words, ye Mighty, and declare!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of National Parks, plundered and bare,
Barren derricks stretch far away.

The river does not ask permission
when it carves a valley into the earth,
nor does it wait for us to remember
the names we once gave it.

It sings in the voices of silt and minnows,
its vowels smooth as skipping stones.
Somewhere, an otter presses its belly to the current,
a heron angles its beak toward sky,
and a tree lets go of its leaves,
not in grief, but in trust.

We dip our hands into the cold and call it home.
Even now, even after dams and droughts,
it hums through the fault lines of our bones,
reminding us we are never separate.
The river moves, and we move with it.

“I do believe the poets are our modern amazons — riders, defenders, explorers of the loneliest outposts of our kingdoms”
– Audre lorde

“I held eyes with one cop that night/Could taste their fear against my famine/The bloodlust of my silence./Them not knowing/If I was one of those who had nothing to lose or live for”
~Alao Olama-Ya

That blue beast under your body will not save you
in its slaughter, look at him fear
tearful, body weaponed and armored but still
weak under the weight of you in this storm
of rioting bodies. Look
closer, at your reflection in his eye

Is this who you want to be ? Remember
the roots of who you are
Here. Let me hold you
soul in water, mind in sea
feel the ocean in your chest, welling
up through your throat, this is the drowning
the free, vessel-carried people chose over captivity,

You are warrior aren’t you? You are prophecy and ruin
You are storm, disaster, body and will of the amazons

then drop your knife
and pick up your weapon

pillage poetry from every living moment of rage
from the fear in his eyes in this moment & the titanium
music of the blade as it hits asphalt freed from your hand

Èjì.
“Tell me something/what you think would happen if/everytime they kill a black boy/ then we kill a cop/everytime they kill a black man/then we kill a cop”
~June Jordan

“not that he was not strong, but his gentleness/over-ruled the rest & he sang/& he bent & sang half-forgotten folktales/to the child in his arms”
~Diane di Prima

My blade at his throat becomes a feather
I slit it across his throat. It spells
out the first line of a poem

I lean my body heavy into his on the asphalt
my knee on his chest, covering his mouth
and in his ear I whisper
that he’ll never earn enough forgiveness to blind us of this mountain

of bodies still begging for breath
beneath their uniforms

blue blood pooling beneath him
leaking from his ears
I drag my tongue up the side of his neck.
It’s ink.

Listen, I was raised by pacifists, I’ve always been
a pacifist and right now I believe

it isn’t enough.

Look at what they’ve taken from us
and keep
taking from us. Nothing will change

I look at his black face

I hold his gaze, my body pinning him down,
I stretch my arm across the ground
where I dropped my blade
and I slide it gently
into his neck
his eyes
dart around like
he’s looking for
someone, a loved one
to rescue him. and
then the stillness
penetrates me
I drop the blade for the second time
wearing a clean crimson coat
and I
start trembling
and in my chest, I-

a man meets my eyes
he grabs me
by the shoulder
gently
and nods at me
with sad eyes

like he
understands
& then he
continues

rioting

Look at the big, beautiful Moon tonight.
See the little red spot that is called Mars.
See the almighty Elon Musk take flight.
Launched from the earth through its cosmos and stars.

But lo, it’s only his robot doppelganger
on a mission to plant the American flag.
Oh wait, that’s not our wonderful doppelbanner.
Do you really believe we had it in the bag?

Just because he bought his way into credence
and has an office in the ivory tower,
just because he used his wealth to gain power,
over our flag he’s held sway, not allegiance.

Look closer, you’ll not see any blue or white stars
just an “X” marks the little red spot that is Mars.

Storm the school, burn the page,
Call it safety, call it sage.
Fear wrapped tight in whispered lies,
Erasing stories, dimming skies.

They sift through shelves with hateful hands,
Searching spines for contraband.
As if a book could twist a mind,
As if the truth should stay confined.

But love is not a secret shame,
Nor something small enough to tame.
No ink, no voice, no life is wrong.
We’ve all been here, we all belong.

No more silence, no more fear,
You can’t erase what’s standing here.
For every book you torch and toss,
Ten thousand voices bear the cost.

Let echoes shake these hallowed halls,
Let the tower begin to fall.
Love will rise from ash and ember,
Burning bright so you remember.

So light your flames, go on and burn,
For every story, we return.
We are the whispers in the walls,
The voices in the winds that call.

Truth is a thread you cannot unwind,
Strength stitched deep, a power divine.
You cannot bury what won’t be chained,
For love will rise, unbowed, untamed.

We are the spark that lights the dark,
The beating heart, the lasting mark.
You cannot erase what you can’t claim.
This love will burn just all the same.

woke up on a Friday morning,
and was greeted with the news
that America truly hates women.
They have hated us
for raising our voices,
for getting out of the kitchen,
for trying to make our own choices.

Not even 50 years
have we been able
to make the choice of abortion.
And you don’t need to know
exactly why – it’s none of your
God damn business – but you know
that we’ve been raped,
abused, fucked by our fathers and brothers,
or we had the child we so
desperately wanted, but it wasn’t viable.
So why would you let us
relive our cruelest dreams
through the act of giving birth
to something we never wanted
in the first place?

Have you thought of Becky?
Fucked by a stranger
on her way home from work,
and will be forced to give birth
to her rapist’s baby.
An abortion would have
saved them both from the trauma
that life continues to push.
What about adoption?
What about the 400,000
kids in this broken system?
They cry themselves to sleep,
and some may even wish
they were aborted in the first place –
I know I’ve been there.
What about all the abuse
these children face in the system?
You’re forcing us to keep a child
that no one will ever love,
but they’ll love taking advantage
of a child that thinks that this
is supposed to happen.

What about my own mother?
Some preacher just had to take advantage
of a young girl, devoted to a religion
that’s supposed to love,
supposed to forgive,
supposed to take care of their people.
Fuck your fuckin religion,
riddled with pedophiles and rapists
who abuse their power
to spread her legs instead of their words.
Let’s not forget her mother;
what would she have done
if her baby girl was carrying, at 12-years-old,
the offspring of her mother’s own boyfriend,
the preacher?
No, she refuses to help her daughter
with her own mistake
of even letting that happen in the first place;
she must have led him on anyway.

She must have led him on.
That’s what you all say,
yet you weren’t there to see it all happen –
how no consent was given,
how it was and a condom was used,
how she almost killed herself along the way.
I only wish you would hear
the trauma you have caused
by letting this be overturned.

We’re not welcoming
this handmaid’s tale.
We’ll take to the streets,
create an earthquake to shake
the thrones they think
they sit upon.
These people already have
one foot in the grave,
let’s push them off these thrones
and bury them in our pride.
Let’s throw all we have
at this church we call a Supreme Court
who made us realize that
they don’t hate women;
3
they fear us.