Holy words used to persecute certain mortals,
Because we march to a different beat;
Blind to see we are all God’s children.
Red rage of apathy flowing in the streets.
We sing African American spirituals,
In front of a crowded congregation;
Paying tribute to the king of civil rights,
In unity against an intolerable nation.
Holding hands, Harry’s vibration grips my soul,
Squeezing tightly, trying not to vanish;
A beautiful, gay, dark-skinned man,
Brilliant eyes swimming with anguish.
My friend, we will rise and stand together,
And face the vile factions of despicable hate;
Because it’s more than just a four-letter word
False prophets swear on to wildly orate.
Not a harmless verb or modest noun –
It takes a lot of malevolence to conjugate;
Conjuring confrontation and conflict
To keep the bloodlust incarnate.
We will not stay silent through the prater,
There’s nothing to translate or debate;
The prejudiced babble you regurgitate
From your malicious maw I will not tolerate.
My friends, let us rise and stand together,
Our harmonies will resonate and conflate;
Overpowering the cacophony of injustice,
Now is the time for peace and humanity to emanate.
Copyright 2021. Briar Moon
I try to forget this place
But the years don’t change a thing
Light and wild dreams
I try to hide and forget about this cliff and you
Now I’m coming back for another round
You beat me and
I chose the way of the coward
But in my mind there’s only one thought
Revenge is like leaving my cage
and winning my freedom
Today I decided to end my dreams.
I’m going to take my eyes out,
Then I will no longer have to see.
Ten or fifteen reasons,
I’ve really lost my head.
Easy to paint the picture,
So hard to get off my bed.
An answer to my problems,
Nothing amusing about it for me.
The more you think about it,
Solemn is all that it seems.
Most memories are capable enough,
To saw off my head,
Dripping my blood into a cup.
You told me you loved me,
Cut into my brain.
Bought a sharp sword,
And dug up all my old pain.
Without my bright eyes,
No memories can wield pain,
Betrayal unable to catalyze.
For the final time,
I will look back.
How your face antagonized me,
How you tied me to the train tracks.
My black lens,
Will relieve me.
Of the holes in my face,
Which will forever ache.
Waiting to assist,
My dog guides me,
No words are spoken between us,
Not that I protest.
Ruined and cut at the seam,
We discarded them,
I shall not see.
But my eyes will continue to say,
What color were we?
I’ve been passing the days and forgetting how much power they have in them. Our gift is time.
“I’ve lost the eloquence in speech to the diagnosis of questioning my own seeing eyes, hearing ears, hidden scars
I’ve lost my will power to the stranger voices silencing my own rebellious song
Can you still hear beyond my stuttering words, broken tongue, weak whisperings yet still fierce and enlightening
Can you still find the passion in the remaining, fragmented echo of my long lost voice?”
— Alana Marroquim (esquizofrenesi)
‘home body’ rupi kaur
Continues to grab me
I can’t hold tight
To the bright things
That fill me
With hope and light
Or maybe I won’t grip them
Maybe I let them go
Or maybe I simply don’t
I don’t grasp them
Like they’re the important
Things I know them to be
I don’t try to keep them
Even though they mean
So much to me
I don’t do anything
I should do
The oppressive nothing
That encloses me
In it’s maw
But I will
Make a fist
Full of sunshine
To hold fast to
Because even if I don’t
Even if I can’t
I most certainly
Give up that easily
I do not know what to tell you
hell is not as described
a charmer full of honeyed sweetness
traitor he becomes at the
You lied to me
or it was me who lived in the denial but you
used me again
dark and gloomy in your eyes becomes bright and shiny in mine
Let me walk in your cosmic dream
Celestial winds lifting my hair
Float down your minds silver stream
Your magic is unique and rare
Illuminate me with your soft moonbeam
You are a perfect solar flare
The light you shine is so supreme
But you’re so totally unaware
your name is the key
with which I open the soul
that belongs to you
Q-Anon followers believe that Trump is the savior,
protecting the world from a cabal of child-eating
Satanists (who just happen to all be Democrats),
and they have identified Inauguration Day, 2021,
as the Last Stand, during which he will enforce
a 10-day national blackout that culminates in the
mass execution of his enemies and a second term
in office, heralding a new age of political freedom.
Still don’t think it’s a cult?
If only I could find that light in me that moths so desperately try to reach. Burning bright they never truly feel what happens when they do succeed.
whenever you feel sad just remember there are billions of cells in your body and all they care about is you
I don’t like that constructive critical expression. I feel like I’m balanced on a wire. Except that I don’t see it.
I’m just so fucking sick of this….. I didn’t even do anything wrong