the homeless person is not your enemy
the drug addict is not your enemy
the disabled person is not your enemy
the transgender person is not your enemy
the BLM ‘rioter’ is not your enemy
the person on welfare is not your enemy
the socialist is not your enemy
Listen. Sometimes depression is just a thing you have. Sometimes it ain’t going anywhere.
You can do all the work and troubleshooting, putting in effort and doing what you should with nutrition, exercise, sleep habits, gratitude, mindfulness, therapy, medication, and so on, and still… you know, have depression…
Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner. Things came up, life happened, between school and work and relationship stuff, time just got away and… ah, screw it. I’m not going to make excuses.
I ignored you for a long time, and I’m sorry.
I’m here now. I know…
they said the general is dead
We said good.
they said how dare we speak that way of a man of great deeds, a man with accolades and prestige, sworn loyal to the nation’s creed
they called him politician, diplomat, statesman. their voice shrieked from the screens: we are the news! who are you?
We called him war criminal, liar, murderer, tool.
Our voice blossomed from the soil: we are the culture, we are the truth. And we are not your fools.
strawberries and strawberry-flavored things
therapy, embracing vulnerability
reading and writing poetry
cute things, including pets or art w/ cute aesthetics, and the wiggle emoji my discord friends see me use a lot
talking about feelings, insecurities, hopes, fears
floral art and patterns
my rhetoric is artillery.
my writing style is arson.
my god —
with my words,
i could kill somebody’s god.
size up the greedy machine,
the doom and the hate.
the pen hits the page — BOOM!
take a look at this place —
fascist fucking paradise,
killers in blue.
i’m here to blow shit up, man.
every poem about death
was written by the dead.
they etch their impact on the people left behind;
the people called poets are the ghost
-writers, lingering and lurching
and searching for meaning
and the place they find it
is in their hearts, a place
where the dearly departed had…
men can be soft
men can cry
men can like the color pink
men don’t have to be tough
men don’t have to be
statements of patriarchy
if you ask me
there’s a whole lot of cool things
that men can be
for starters, i think
men can be free
i walked through a clearing
and found an ancestor there
he raised an eyebrow at me
then went back to his meal
he was eating fruits and nuts
and his plan for the day was to vibe
i had a small cardboard container
filled with deep fried dead birds