Drinking the Tea

Decades of taxing my body

matters not to the tax

 

on wages, tax on property,

tax on welfare, tax on health, tax

 

on labor, even a death tax.  It’s all taxing

to the quality of all existence.

He Said: “She’s a Doll”

disdainfulbeauty

A motionless doll prone

on the floor, I am wet

with weeping.  Being indignant

for being treated by the world

with indifference, I will be pulled

up by the strings of my Master.  I will

swallow the pride lumped in my throat, to play

whatever role they allow: Corporate

Whore, Grease Monkey, Farm Hand, Dirty

Prostitute, Walmart Cashier.  Naturally, I bend

flipping about the masks painted with grand

illusions of want representing human

intention.  Nothing about my character is fluid

because I am frozen by rituals of everyday

life.  I am lost in the stuffing.

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Entropy Elegy

This poem from the blog is exceptionally relevant today.

disdainfulbeauty

To the sum of a battle cry

can you help?  In the different selves

outside of oneself a sickness has taken

hold.  The sad melody of malady

gripping the heart gone

stunned by reality

seen in plain sight that no

one seems to see. I have

not the language to explain—but I try.  Too

many of this city’s people who would

rather go another day not thinking

because the things they cannot unlearn

are too scary.  Ugly truths

refuse to be forgotten climbing like aggressive

clematis choking out everything in its path

only to bloom and die year after year, after life-

times of forgotten ago.  Vines coil tight to find

stability for the rest of itself with violet and magenta

blooms which fall petal by petal, until they look

to the naked eye as to be dead.

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Too Invisible to See Tyranny

Slavery takes its form in a chain of infinite

numbers now.  The master-slave relationship

 

plays out in economics, as it always has,

so we’re blind to our chains and work our

 

asses off for every new shackle of wanting

something you don’t need. Commercials have

 

burned their way through everyone’s mind so much

we convince ourselves that we don’t worship our Master

 

Money.  Everything human is taken out of equations,

except, of course, our own errors we can’t catch

 

in the math.

American Refugee as of 12:37am 1/21/17

I just couldn’t look.  I couldn’t watch

someone repulsive to every

fiber of me, even the sound of his voice

 

makes me cringe and my lip

quiver.  The rest of me is frozen

with paralysis, while my fingers

 

blindly caress the home row.  Only small

movements are manageable. Eyes squeezed

tight shut in hopes my mind could be bigly tricked

 

into believing it’s all just a poem I need to write. Even shaking

and tearful, my hands no longer grow from my face

because they have been possessed with a single word: NO.

What Most People Don’t Read

To be a living footnote

in other’s lives is to feel loneliness

beyond description.  You’re there

 

as an annotation to the goings on

around you, but like most fine print

 

it’s often skipped over and not even noticed.

By Men, Truth Is…

Always, it has been odd

to see the world with open

 

eyes.  Terror is

omnipotent.  With tremoring

 

waves of an unnamed emotion

I know of.  It’s a knowing we are liars

 

in one form or another.  Death is a shroud

coming faster than you think

 

to us all.  Words, kind gestures, loving

eyes which offered to me solace

 

in times of few.  Sometimes you should be

inconsolable when you can see like a gawd

 

damned medium.  There is nothing left

but Armageddon. I’mma take up my sword

 

so I can stab everyone in the eyes with the truth.