- Poetry - Shit. I’m alive
in a time when my – brothers – – sisters – – my human siblings – – and I – are rallying and raising a cry up to the high heavens that we just want a little respite a taste of some nectar some exilir some juice to – jesus fucking christ – just get us through ‘cause we’re caught in an era an epoch of false truths and bloated orange dudes screaming from golden shitters about alternative facts and fake news. We marched after the election the inauguration and a year later we want to see some goddamn consternation from folks high up in their stadium seats of privilege who run home to cuddle their guns with an urgency only found in the wake of dead kids. In a poem I’ll tell you that WORDS AIN’T ENOUGH when our halls and our walls are scrawled – splattered – with the blood of slain children felled by dominant white male ideology facilitated by guns. We are well past daisy chains – We are fucking taking names. February 27, 2018 |
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May 2020
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