Alien.

That’s all it takes.
Say it enough times—
with enough pride,
with enough certainty,
say it like it’s harmless—
and you start to believe it.
You convince yourself some people
don’t belong here.
That some lives weigh less.
That some suffering is acceptable.
And soon,
you forget they were ever people to begin with.

This is where it begins.
Not with camps.
Not with walls.
With words—
small, familiar, deadly.
Words that divide.
Words that erase.
Words that strip humanity away
layer by layer,
until you look at a person
and only see a problem.

And what happens next?
We dress it up.
We call it safety.
We call it policy.
We call it normal.

But let’s not pretend.

Alligator Alcatraz is not a policy.
It’s not a technicality.
It’s not safety.
It’s a concentration camp.
Built by people who learned nothing
from the blood their ancestors drowned in.

And I am from Germany.
I know this pattern.
I know how fast words become walls.
How quickly division becomes destruction.
How easily neighbors become strangers,
become threats,
become numbers.

We screamed it into history books—
Never again.
We tattooed it across generations.
We carved it into memorials.
We taught it in classrooms.
We promised.

But promises mean nothing
if we look away now.

It never starts with gas chambers.
It starts with small lines—
borders,
walls,
categories.
It starts with us and them.
When fear speaks louder.
When division feels safer than empathy.
When language poisons the foundation
before anyone notices.
It starts
when people feel so distant,
so different,
that hurting them feels justified.

And I’ll say it plainly—
You cannot be neutral while this happens.
You either fight—
or you help them build the fences.

Because it always ends the same way—
with camps,
with cages,
with bodies counted in hindsight,
and the world pretending
no one saw it coming.

But we do see it coming.
We see it now.
And if we refuse to speak,
if we refuse to fight—

history isn’t repeating itself.
We are repeating it.

Cast on a canvas of colorless fun,
we look for the sun, hence shadows to shun.
Hidden's the day's dye backwoods a child's eye,
only some walk nigh where lost colors lie.

Days cradle dovey birth to raven death;
would-be colors jostle for the brief breadth.
‘Tis in the eye to hear the coo in the blue.
Hail the rat’s coup in the republic of rue.

Pick all vibrant hues, eschew the tethered.
Dyes of default-assent beget hatred.
Blinded casements ****** gold sentiments,
scold them to sediments of unsaid statements.

When sentinels descry where bluebirds fly,
the blues won't cry, but comply and chirp by.

Repost
© Hirondelle, June 25, 2025
    Arif Hifzioglu

drowning 6.20.25 (3:39 / 15:39)
drowning drowning drowning
flailing failing failure to surface on an endless
sea
of sad dark and death it’s all in my head i think
i think yes i’m right for once
it’s all in my mind and nothing is real
except the dark

drowning drowning can’t breathe
i’m going to die
g a s p  of  a i r
it’s momentarily bright
and then i sink
back
under
the sea

I found an empty bottle
It’s better than
The empty cans before
It holds the same
But reaches taller
To receive
My ash

I slit my wrist to erase the pain.
you look at me and think I'm insane.
My eyes turn red, bleeding my tears,
and still you try to protect me from my worst fears.
Look at my scars, then you will see
why I can't seem to go around and fake happy,
yet you tell me you love me, that you'll forget,
for I'll soon be gone, and I'll be your greatest regret.
So let me die, broken and scarred,
I can't deal with life, it's getting far too hard.
Everything's gone wrong; it's not worth trying,
so leave me alone because I feel like I'm dying.
I don't want you to worry,
because my life is ending in a hurry.
I'll be fine and happy, you see,
for death is what I wished for and soon it will be.

I’m Triaxial,              
In geometry,          
This X, Y, and Z…              
Caged by coordinates–          
So planar, unfree          

And time’s forward flow,          
Just won’t let me go,                
It’s sometimes too fast…  
Then, relatively too slow  

There’s a down direction,              
That pulls with oppression,    
Gravity’s fixed force–      
A constant compression

When force is innate,
I’m stuck at it’s rate,
Sunken and buried,
By pressurized weight

And, in this void,
Nothing’s destroyed,
Change is the constant,
From which all is deployed

While my perception,
Is a small projection,
Of fundamentals,
Below our detection

I myself am just an extension
Of laws beyond comprehension…
I’m suffocating, blind
Stuck here, in this **** Third Dimension

It lies within—
In your deepest quiet place.
Stir the rivers of your soul
Till oceans rise
And break their bounds.

No being lacks a gift,
No soul without endowment—
Each formed with purpose.

Let passion's quiet flame
Unfold dimensions unexplored;
From steady drops
An ocean forms,
And skill, when honed,
Will crown the work with beauty.

Close your eyes to blind applause;
Open them to the greatness
Seeded in your frame.

Shine—
Till your very presence
Reveals the Perfect Spirit
Living through you.

I refuse to listen to the self-harming negative talk in my mind.
I keep refocusing my attention on how I want to talk to myself instead.