Worms of Sorrow

I wrote this a few months ago when I was feeling a lot of sadness. It’s interesting to edit this piece, when in a different frame of mind. Feelings are temporary, and I’m sure I’ll taste sadness sometime soon. Unfortunately sorrow, sadness, and any emotions perceived as negative are shamed. They shouldn’t be, they are all part of what it means to feel, to be alive, to be connected to this world. This poem is a celebration and a reminder of what sorrow can feel like. It’s okay to be too sad to do anything, sometimes. We live in a world that is filled with it after all, and there are times I want to fight it, but there are times when I just allow the sadness to swallow me. Those choices are all okay.are having a

Advertisements

no one, but me

This poem is about not wanting people to define or label me because of the clothes I chose to wear. My body is mine to dress as I want, and how I choose to dress it should not make others choose to judge me or make assumptions.

Thin blue dress

patterned with vivacious horses

slides over red gym shorts

and a black & white bra

slides over a bike seat

as heat swelters, sweat trickles

“Oh you look so nice”

first comment of the day

I don’t usually wear femme; are you surprised?

Now that I fit your stereotype, am I more acceptable?

“Who are you trying to impress?”

No one, but me

My body is not for you

Horses gallop over

black & white bra

eyes slide toward my body

as my body slides on my bike

red shorts glisten, wind caresses my thighs

as  I slide through the air

My body is mine

I dress it for me to be me

It does not define me, or my gender identity

I dress it to slide through the air

Earth is Beauty

I wrote this on a train that wove through the northern part of the Los Angeles Forest.

Greys and Browns

Orange and Faded Green

Small trees, low shrubs

and silver rocky hills.

I see Beauty stretch for miles,

but all the greedy capitalists want

is blood and organs

to sell for profit.

All they see is dollar signs

development, mining

and oil.

As the Greys and Browns of

trees and plants fade into

identical track houses and what

they call Civilization (and I call Destruction and Death).

Manufactured and installed trees,

paved streets

and commerce.

What happened to the Beauty?

White settlers destroyed it all.

An Empath? An Introvert?

I wrote this almost a year ago. This is for all those of us who feel way too much and struggle to be ok because of it.

Where do I begin?

in Capitalism?

in our Reality?

in my Dreamworld?

The vibrations all around

Struggle to block out.

A sponge absorbs all day

in Reality

Only to be wrung out, sometimes cruelly

in Dreams

I feel it all …

Emotions gnawing like

tiny gnats

and vicious wolves.

Emotions pile up, a tower of

tumbling woodblock pieces

To be alone, in the forest

on the beach, lost among fire and water.

Away from cities, concrete, and cars.

Is this a joke?

Our humanity?

a funeral

The following was written in memory of a persyn who was (one of the hundreds) murdered by the police earlier this year. The institutions of policing and prisons in Amerika is part of the (neo)liberal political agenda of capitalism and democracy. Their systemic killing and harming of black, brown, indigenous folx is part of that agenda. These institutions need to be abolished if we want to live in a world deserving of this earth.

a persyn, a spirit

constructed after death

through those around

through those that loved

through those whose hearts will never heal

 

a loved one,

taken away too quickly

too brutally by police forces

is that the life of those oppressed?

those whose skin and ancestry are marked

through slavery by settlers of Amerika?

How much has changed when

black communities still mourn?

 

preachers with words they think are

wisdom, push old and tired

ways of thinking

“black on black crime”

but what about mass incarceration?

what about police violence dispensed disproportionately on black bodies?

“education”

western schooling will never give you

the soul you need to survive

with a war that rages nobody

wants to be lectured by

old stereotypes

 

Liberation will never be

found within white walls

and colonized colors of respectability.

Don’t believe the myths.

Don’t fall for easy answers.

 

We  will honor the dead

with our fight

We will honor the dead

with rejection of the systems

We will honor the dead

by never conforming to the rules

of the living

rent is due

it’s the first of the month. it’s day when we’ve gotta fucking pay to have a roof and rooms. it’s also the day i get paid… so here’s a poem in dedication of being anti-money:

Mistakes are made,

of which i blame

those dead presidents

found on those floating pieces

of dead paper.

Money is a drug.

Money is a poison.

Money is an addiction.

Dead presidents to trap you

find you, to blame you for your mistakes.

And then don’t listen to your screams.

my redefinition of love

here’s one i wrote this month about love. i have very different definitions of things than most people. sometimes i feel like trying to communicate with people is impossible because i’d have to explain all my differences before we could even begin. i believe in love but not love defined through the system of patriarchy and white supremacy.

Love is not romance.

Love is not flowers, or dinners

or dates.

Romance is constructed through layers of

patriarchy mixed with western notions

of [preferably white] companionship.

Love is wanting to change the world

not through ideas of peace, but through strength and steel.

Love is reaching inside yourself

to peel away layers which are not yours,

but were given to you

soaked in hundreds of years of oppressive behaviors.

Love is never candies or chocolate

or holding hands in a movie theater.

Love is always the search for revolution;

the search for armed resistance.

Love is when we will be able to stand together

against forces much bigger than us

but we will win, not just through love

but because we will have realized through love

what we need to win.

Love will never be romantic.

Love will always be us together against the state.