I am women,
Thats why I dont walk alone
Listening through my headphones.

I am women,
So I button and check my shirt twice
To ensure i don't attract or entice.

I am women,
Sorry we can not be friends
For the boundaries may blur and extend.

I am a women,
Enjoying the art beautifying my face
I must be looking for men to taste.

I am a women,
If I appear bare as a natural,
You ask what's wrong or if I'm ill.

I am a women,
When I don't encourage and engage,
I must be odd or maybe strange.

I am a women,
And *** I say is what I like,
They tell me no that's also not right.

I am a women,
I bare child and bring new life,
Presumed I'm simply a stay at home wife.

I am a women,
Working hard climbing the ladder,
I hear my biological clock really matters.

I am a women,
Who enjoys the same as those gone before,
They say I have no mind of my own anymore.

I am a women,
Outlandish and keen to explore,
They tell me stop this and settle for sure.

We are women
different and same alike,

We are women
with our own minds,

We are women
who deserve to thrive,
We are women who don't alway survive.

May those who intrigue me
forgive me my curiosity.

I do not wish to intrude
upon your peaceful interlude,
are act in any way that may
be seen as undue or rude to you.

I am fascinated, at how you created
the person who I see
full of grand complexity.

Sparkling lines of stars reflected
in the blanket of your brilliance,
I feel it’s force and frequently
desire to be overwhelmed
by such solar fury that I am incinerated,
only to be reincorporated in my own reflection,
put back together much improved
by what I learned from you.

The poetess or scientist,
the athlete or artist
that sparks this
spectacular inspiration,
particles of experience expelled
and collected as new perspectives.

Witchy spells and butterfly colors,
mortuary science and deep ****** puddles
as I wander and wither a dithering fool,
striving to write and connect to
anyone who will read and believe
in my creative sincerity.

It is so selfish, and I am a terrible thief;
Stealing soft utterances, and glances brief
to place them in these temporary word things
I call love but equally mean poetry to me.

If you if need your religion
to be kind to those who are different
than I can accept
what I normally reject,
but if you make the decision
to use that position
to treat others with derision
then you can take your faith
and put it in a dark **** place.

Time from before the big bang
has not been seen or measured
in any significant way
that I am aware of.

So, I am wondering,
based on converging hypotheses
did all of this matter and energy
from our universe which appears to be
expanding and is projected to do so eternally
due to dark matter, come from a less compressed state of being,
space that had massive materials swallowed by a black hole
and became the clay and the mold
of our soon to explode
reality.

It’s a trade in
as wage men
are trading
their time
and health
to earn themselves
a reprieve
from being
deprived
of what they need
to stay alive.

But the clock
is boiling them,
slowly cooking
working men
in a stew of
exhaustion.

Good health
and happiness,
is exchanged for
lots of stress,
anxiousness,
and a mess
of repetitive
movement
impairment
paired with
pain.

Body withering
along with
a dithering
mind that
subtracts facts daily.

In aging
the dark corridor
comes closer
and the coroner
is waiting
just outside
the late night
shift life
door.

Ignorance
is a sharp stark
spear to my
blood gorged heart,
the mess where I store
all the artifacts
I abhor and adore.

It is a corner covered in
all the tools used
for bludgeoning
all of my resistance
to a pulpy gore.

A set of stupid statues
sitting in a row
not seeing, hearing,
or speaking what we know.

The bane of my breath,
more horrid than death,
as I dull then destroy
that aspect which annoys
me greatly.

As I read and study,
veils remove themselves,
waters recede and I see
the once drowning
clown version of me
empowered to be
a lot godlier.

You’re preposterous
when you foster this
archaic hatefulness.

If you want to wait a bit
I’ll debate your rhetoric,
and we can fix that logic.

I’d like to settle it
if you listen my friend
so we can begin again
to set a healing trend
and mend the bonds
broken by those who conned
Americans into believing
that the poor people
were the ones deceiving
everyone.

I’m not settling
for a world that is
less than unified.
I won’t let my
compassionate love
be denied the right to thrive,
this is spot on which
I live or die for what is right.

And if you refuse to listen
I’ll just write another version
of the same poem.

Fox news and OAN,
Ben Shapiro,
and Tucker Carlson,

fake newsmen
versus fake newsmen
vying for the views
of the uninformed population,
trying to defund
public education,
twisting perspectives
while being
super selective
with the message
they are constructing.

Obstructors of truth
as they misdirect
the electorate
with their misconduct;

Stir up fear and anxiety
about people who are
in the same boat
that we are.

A spendthrift grift,
cursing the gift to uplift
that empathy is
and replacing it with
vile slurs and *******.
All that bile interspersed with
the commercials we’ve seen,
cause it is a money making,
hate cultivating machine.

So frustrating
cause it is easy to see
the ouroboros,
that snake that devours itself
after it has destroyed everything else.

The chaos is a creation
of indistinct figures,
these fallen formations
of monstrous
proportions,

abstract static
beats that are
automatic,
matter of facts
that lack
any clarity.

I am looking for
something
that is more
of a rarity
than diamonds
and gems,
some truth
staring back at me
that unclenches my teeth
and takes the scream
out of the pillow
I laid my face in.

That yankee
dandy daydream
isn’t satisfying,
it’s really
only a rally for
rich men
who are lying.

So, why the ****
do I keep on trying,
keep on crying
for some sort
of order,
the kind you
proport
angels report
to a higher being,
when I haven’t seen
******* thing
to make me believe
god exists.

So, as the bullets rip
through innocents
and right wing pundits
spin this creeping chaos
to suit their purpose,

I propose we end this
illusion,
this great god and state delusion.

It is so late. I am so very tired
and there is nothing here to restore
the fire that burned in me before
exhaustion ran through my back door.

Inspiration would be a fine elixir,
a sweet supplier of an eternal shine
that would make me as hot as the divine
intermingling with other demon beings.

Heavy red eyes scratch the surface of
inconsequential stuff that was stuffed
somewhere under the cover of my skin,
with secrets sharper than razor blades,
that let letters and vowels bleed out in
thin spinning lines of linens draped over
my slumping sore and aching shoulders.

Fatigue makes me a nervous overthinking,
fool cowering, and shrinking from daylight,
longing for the lunar loving touch of night.

Hungry, I eat junk, but I’m never sated,
so many universes of the knowledge
split infinities, divided by eternity
still, I am a ravenous rumbling mess.

My mind is a mad mass of confusion,
foggy abstraction thinking any action
might make the slightest difference,
but consciousness is a lie of persistence,
a disturbing pittance better paid
when sleep lets strange dreamers play
and I can wake fully rested and focused.

Picture yourself as a prophet of sorts
trying to revive a dying discourse,
writing enlightening verses while
studying to improve your own style,
thinking, reading, eating, and seeing,
digesting then changing what you are believing
in the face of new knowledge that you are receiving.

Imagine yourself struggling to create
poems and ideas that counteract hate,
to fight off the arrogance of those who just take,
whilst battling against your own arrogant state.

Picture your paradise then deconstruct,
look inside out so your mind doesn’t get stuck,
remembering we all can work to be better.
Humanity can be an alphabet of good intent
if each vowel and consonant is well spent,
written and given like a love letter
proclaiming life can be something greater.

Rest for a moment and dream for a second,
remembering diversity is the stream that we spring from,
it is the catalog of songs that sing some
beautiful intentions and creations into existence,
the inspiration that keeps us moving forward
as earth, space, and grand mind explorers.

Take my hand metaphorically speaking
and rise from the shadows of pain that were keeping
our brothers and sisters in pain from the chains of oppression.

Its’ a strange game, but let’s play love tag
and give our hearts and art away to say
it is time to change and make this world
a far grander place.

I'm sending unending lines,
editing and accrediting
these collegial rhymes.

Inspecting and perfecting
in obsessive over editing
these miraculous words
that I was temporarily hoarding.

Trying so hard not to be boring
with my own verbal exploring,
reporting to myself about myself
for everyone else to read.