Fangcun tea spills the streets
Amid wild migration,
And intent to penetrate the,
“Pearl,”
An acrid and once ugliest river;
Boiled frogs wrought chemical baths,
But come the tea,
Its first and finest smell.

So begins the story –
Tales birthed backs earlier,
And greener the mounts of
Fujian;
With I, the “foreigner,” but learned
When the piano keys
Tremble tumors within the
Nose born a million miles west.

If I’d ventured, if I’d lived,
If she’d left, and she did,
I’d orbit again and again and
Again;
Barren but to tap with one finger
Atop purple clay and sip
On and on and on
For the jubilation and for the hours.

I’d ingest all the ether’s mystery,
I’d dodge yesterday’s bullet tomorrow,
I’d live and if to die lonely,
Simply,
I’d perish knowing,
With a tea cup in hand,
That I’d still taste the dominion over
Self and covenants long forgotten.

She has this urge that makes her open her mouth and howl,
This undoubtible urge that cannot be ignored.
She cannot express it, this desire that comes as an howl
A kind of war that screams in peace, isolated from everything she knew.
An annihilation of the shutters felt through skin.
Coming to a complete hault, a still breeze.
A silence of footsteps heard from foliage
An ecstacy of sorts.
Spreading like wildfire, burning everything it touches.
Laid bare in an empty room, her.
Cutting loose, giving into need.
This passion that beckons her
howl
Well aware of the moon
Bottled in winter's height.
A wisp of desire rising from her cry
No longer disillusioned, she howls.
Head held high, naked in euphoria

Could I in my own efforts, pick myself up if I were dead?
Could I in my own efforts, heal the wounds which I continue to inflict
Could I in my own efforts, prepare to mend the sickness for which I have no cure?
Could I in my own effort, become the person I want too, but don't have the means to become

Could I in my own efforts, harness the power and the strength that I simply do not possess on my own
could I possibly in my own efforts, conquer something in my past that I have failed to over come

The answer is elegant yet most simple, of course I could not!
Could I in my own efforts fall to my knees
Could I in my own efforts, weep and lay still
Could I in my own efforts, move not one inch
Could I in my own efforts, utter a cry for help
Could I in my own efforts be liberated?
Not without a liberator good and strong to break down the gates
And I ask myself will I call for such liberation

The answer has come when I fear I shall not be liberated.
And so in my state I confess that I, am in need of a liberator

"I would say I care about women's rights, but I wouldn't call myself a feminist"
"I think men and women should be equal, yeah, but I don't want to be called a feminist."
"Does that mean I can hit you?"

The word feminism rattles like a cracking cymbal crashing
just hard enough on pavement to scratch it
but not hard enough to break.
The word feminism manifests itself in our culture
in poisonous ways,
like the food dye in our candy'r
parabens we cover our faces in,
we don't say this word cos' it's scary
we don't want to make too much commotion

while white men in black robes orchestrate the court system
and have police by the neck, inserting money like a candy machine
we fear the word that gives us a step to bring equality

while white men in suits ask us "how we doin'"
and we don't admit that we're angry,
women don't show anger, it isn't polite
when the men in the subway puts his hand up our skirt
and says "hey baby you like that"
no, he doesn't ask if we do, he tells us out flat,
insinuating our satisfaction is a product of theirs
reminding us with a hand on public transportation
that anyone who has a **** can be one and we can't do ****
because we aren't supposed to be angry, it isn't polite

The word feminism manifests itself in delicate ways
we can't ask for too much, they won't take us seriously
****** intergrity? girl, try again
the right to not wear a bra?
Where do you think you are? this is america
An opinion
one that they hear
that isn't facilitated
out a white man's mouth
into a white man's ear
we aren't a filter
won't you raise your voice?
**** being polite,
please, make some noise

The word feminism manifests itself in ways you can't see
if you fear what it might make you lose
you haven't much yet by the hands of the man
so why are you choosing not to grab your sister's hands?
Stop saying sorry when someone interrupts you
stop moving out of the way for men who don't move
put your female foot down, don't say excuse me
you're a woman, angry with every right to be
stop fearing the word feminism
for the connotations are flurries
the word denotes storms we're starting
join us

You will never see the basement of the church,
I spent months there begging for answers.
I will see the steeple.

You might never collect all the flowers in the garden
I spent weeks tending to the seeds.
I will reap the most vibrant yellows.

You will never hear the beating of the drum,
I spent months tuning it out.
I will strum my own strings.

You might never face the consequences of your past.
I may never heal.
But I will be better than what it left me.
I will rise up and I will feel again.

I wove a basket for you that I filled with my own flowers,
The summer drought killed my roses.
The summer rain drowned my daisies
But in the fall I die once more,
in the basket, I am reborn.
I wove you a basket you did not take,
so with my own heart I will make one,
in this basket I will keep
the flowers whose roots run deep.

I planted them myself,
for me.

One must possess a certain level of chaos to live a life of liberation

I'm in a room surrounded
Trapped and locked inside
There's a door on which I'm pounding with all my power and my might

Then pretty soon I realized
I'm the one with the key
And if only I could find the lock, Then I'd be able to leave

But the keyhole is misshapen
It has been beaten and worn down
The key will not fit and I wonder if I will ever be found

There is no way to repair the lock
I can only break down the wall
If I want to move past the room that contains me, I need to break it, once and for all.

Dear reader,

We have lost faith,

If ignorance is bliss,  

is feeling bliss in moments like these, also ignorant?

It is the barrier towards change.

Without fire;

there is  no hone towards retaliation.

Without water;

There is no grievance for what we are losing,

for what we have already lost.



If we have one shred of hope left in this world

it is to rise,

as if we already haven’t become to the invisible shackles,

that make us turn a blind eye,

while keeping us moving on schedule,

so that we don’t witness the truth.

if we haven’t succumbed to the temptation;

We shall accept,

not what we have been told,

or what they want us to believe.

We shall accept our emotions, on the premise that;

Yes we have lost control,

but we will get it back.



The Domino Effect needs to ignite,

like a match to a flame.

With one collective cry of righteousness,

others may view with open eyes,

that will travel past the layer of superficial distraction,

and see the real motive

to what causes such pain in the world.



Dear reader,

Think deeper,

care unconditionally around you,

and try to change what is wrong.

The people who are meant to,

have failed us.

It is up to you to fight against it,

to gain the control that has been taken,

and make it not an illusion but a reality.

To grasp the freedom that is deserved, not just given sparingly.

We shall be a humanity.

The last time they fought
he told her that her ego ran her life
maybe he was right.

Was her mind too much
and that is why she hides
it away in a cage so no one else can
but still she craves the light so
she spends her time looking good in every one
forgetting to nourish her mind.

That is not the girl I know
faux passions
dragging out interactions for the sake of a boost
who knew she could turn out like this?
That is not the girl I know,
it is the girl he said she was,
and that is not the girl I loved.
I want her back, please.