Days drag on and on As they suffer within the blank walls Given “care” and “aid” Only to be harmed No authority quite alarmed Any sanity that was, since gone Staggering those halls The iron fists they forcefully obeyed
- Jay M November 5th, 2021
About asylum patients and the mistreatment they faced back in the day. Written for my Creative Writing class.
Saw the bean pole and its roots arguing outdoor with two oppressors bean pole treated unfavourably its on foreign soil doused in free milk but reminded its just another border crosser from a rubber dinghy from Calias
Saw the bean pole housed in nursery and greenhouse to propagate now rooted anew its given nutrients but it must do as ordered for no matter what its just another border crosser from a rubber dinghy from Calias
Saw bean pole growing tendrils leaves unfold green to catch sunshine but now a puppet amongst others who bend and shape at will bean pole see that plant next to you its taking your nutrients away go block its sun do as we say or else just remember you're just another crosser from a rubber dinghy from Calias
Bean pole will grow and bear fruits on foreign soil there's milk and honey but for as long as the sun shines the chains and barbs will hold bean pole is just a stick carrying tendrils to grow the beans eaten by those of the land who to them will always be just another border crosser from a rubber dinghy from Calias
Countless times I’ve spent pouring out kerosene in the form of words, attempting to lessen the flames roaring inside but only fueling them in the process. You seem to be the only one that will listen; then again how could you protest? It’s a relationship that’s hardly symbiotic.
I’ve learned that most times I am the lit match igniting a room full of fumes, tearing down the walls around me as quickly as I built them. I am the one scorching the palms of those who seek comfort and searing the tongues of those who offer it.
So go, stay far away from the flames, and know, that soon I’ll burn up all I have, Maybe then I won’t be a threat anymore.
Let's lose our minds amongst the olive trees Labyrinth of oiled imagination Twirl like falling leaves / falling to our knees in unbalanced joy and veneration of ourselves. For there is nobody else but us; there is no other time but now, Red flowers bloom. A blue shadow propels a still landscape into being somehow fluid. Timelessly we swim, wet within each brush stroke branch and painted wave of wild emancipation—to forget the din of the wretched asylum. Vincent smiled: Dive too deep and you shall go insane, The olive grove remains the other side of the pane.
Inspired by Vincent van Gogh's painting of the same name.
my heart is on fire one half cup espresso, a vape and a song that drapes my heart in a purple fire, with the same purple glow inside the go go bar where that dancer handed Bukowski a dried lily But only for a moment.
lesson #104 and the music rides a sine wave into my left ear. I sat upon a lotus pad and kept a straight back the Angelus Novus couldn’t (insert link) close its wings against the winds of Paradise so elated were the Gods by the progress of man. so high the rubble of the wreckage the view from its summit rivaled the vantage gained from standing atop the Six Grandfathers within the Four-headed Dog from across the pond.
national broadcast in the jungle and all the box would do is talk and all the cockroaches would do is persist and all the machetes would do is hack and all the bodies burned and Felicien Kabuga was kindly granted asylum by the West and remained at large for over 25 years. THANKS A LOT SWITZERLAND. (insert link)
may all the kings be strangled with the entrails of all the priests