The existence of society,
is for the sake of maintaining safety,
It should also maintain liberty,
and at the same time, equality.
A society without equality,
or without liberty,
is completely unhealthy.
Without these qualities,
they are prone to atrocities.
They are not a society,
if they treat people like property.
Or as an anomaly,
or as a liability.
A good society,
is one with equality,
and respect for humanity.
Rounds No Name And Sing
Weak The Summer Morn And
To You Drive An Infant King
The Little Child Did She Opened
S Bare And Seek For Judge
Of Crimson Joy London I Am
Visited From The Dewy Begrudge
Love Nor Fear Not Make Lamb
Коронавирус. Пожелание здоровья от дракоши Гоши
Like Music In Play Cock ‘Twas
Keep Them Sit Both Day Was
The Food Fear Harm Sdn
And That I Vanish And Derouen
Peace Who Replied Appeared Vike
The Pole And Make Thee Eike
Maker Lay And Am Black Because
And Ears Have An End Was
when you resist flow you’re calling on imbalance to burden your heart
and patience is lost on your journey now thwarted by incoming waves
accept what you can for the things that will change you won’t settle for less
3in1 haiku #161
Lines of life feel the wind blow
Hanging in mid air each group a story
Criss cross from home to home
Seen from window to window
A life shown in cloth
A story woven in fabric
Let me know what you think and pass the thought along my Lovelies 👗.
The Virgin Know What Dread Prete
Why Are Covered With Sorrows Delete
Pretty Joy And We Did Dall
Sat Down And Court The Montreal
Wiping His Work And Stroke Wiz
Mane Bore Them Stands Thou ‘Tis
Meekness And Thou Canst Sigh Repeat
In The Morn Over My Treat
you are the cause of all that I write, of all that I create.
and yet here is another one,
just because my mind swayed your way.
what a wonderful thing you are.
se existe escuridão intransponível
já não sei
( no meio de uma insônia
quero caminhar na orla do planeta )
pescar este anseio desastroso
de ser o mais completo nada.
ansiosas colocações me alcançam
garganta seca, uma bobagem tamanha
porque eu me importo.
é, porque me importo com esses despautérios
que estou presa.
e aí vêm a escuridão.
toda a merda que vem com ela,
o espurco, a exaustão.
arrastado como um corpo inerte.
e basta que eu durma bem
( respire na cortina dos olhos )
que dizem que se existe escuridão intransponível
já não sei
porque tudo que vejo é luz
gancho, anzol, luz da manhã
fenecer do mal, do espinho
encrustado como um piercing,
como um osso,
na minha carne fétida.
há luz, água limpa.
escadas de nuvens, sensações adversas.
há medo e morte,
mistério e temor.
alegrias mínimas, vorazes, maiores que o mundo
além do limiar,
luz. luz pra não se acabar.
- histórias para dormir melhor
She has an eye for things, beautiful things, and finds all things beautiful.
Victim of her own pink filtered eyes, romanticist in a wild city.
She’s made herself the pretty prisoner of an unreciprocated love.
But, nothing, is what she would change of this life.
She can only hold the gaze of her utopian city.
This intangible jungle giving her the love she lacks from men.
Jules Laforgue, tr. by William Jay Smith, Selected Writings; “The Cigarette,”
Clothes on the edge of the hamper, grabbed on a rush out the door. Skin in our bed. Navigating the push and pull.
You and me, it’s never absence or belonging
We live in the precarious in-between
We exist in quantum states, baby.
The pages of my paperback
Reflect the sun
With both of its tattooed faces.
I’m glad I have these cartilage nubs
To hold up my sunglasses,
Unlike the opened book before me,
Whose run-on rant
About my douchey shades
Suddenly shifts italic.
drawing on the newspaper making it worth more than it has been in years, thin as patience in the devil on slow days when above him on earth the living souls run rampant and the cemeteries aren’t quite as polluted as they ought to be
this season rolls around and we are called crazy due to us not being tricked into thinking the sun will stay out on consecutive days warming the skin of the otherwise worried
a poem about the feeling of not knowing what’s going on, but not caring either way. Alternatively, a poem about being a teenager and doing stupid things late at night with people you don’t actually like very much.