People love shouting about These Damned Days
these horrid days owned by no one
going down in history and the definition of infamy.
People love blaming These Damned Days
her hands are chapped and raw from anxiously
peeling away her skin
so she goes through every fidget she can find
and wears them down until they break.
her lips and nose are red and cracked
i write about things
that i love or that piss me
off-and sometimes both.
i like how words sound
strung together like porch lights
words that light the fuse.
My English human name is Sam, and I am not from Earth.
you used to love the snow and ice
the dark and stormy winter nights
December's magic festive glow
now seems many years ago.
you crave the warmth of summer's kiss
let sunlight bring you back to bliss
As I step into the wood
I hear nature’s song, oh so good
The song of a small bird,
he fills the world without a word
At the peak of a sweet crescendo,
There’s this new feeling
It’s a very different feeling
But it’s a good feeling
I thought I had this figured out
But like Icarus with the sun
I still had no idea what would be done
You told me I was made of pure sunshine
I tried to believe you
But how can I be sunshine
When she is made of pure gold
Le François de la Tranchée
With my stomach on the ground, I look over the parapet and into the trench. Nobody could be seen.
Women’s bodies are not yours for the taking
Not your land that’s up for sale
Not your home to destroy
Not your food to fill your belly
Take your greed elsewhere please
As a child brown from oppression and a desire to be free,
It must learn,
It must remember,
It must never forget,
That freedom for some isn’t freedom,
Freedom for all was promised,