Mimic the voices of the dead
And watch me come alive
Every time

I am Devi’s version of Draupadi
I laugh in the face of oppression
First, I let them stab and crush me
With a calm face
I let them purge my blood out
Like rubber from trees
I let my bruised hands and legs
Shine like trophies
Then I mock
Mockery is a clever woman’s tradition
Passed down like a river
I mock
Them all
I laugh while my ******* dangle
Emptily
I let their ego burn down
Ferociously
And even when I’m buried
I will laugh my heart out from the grave
And my mockery will haunt humanity
For centuries
And my dried blood
On your skin
Will never fade
I am immortal
Even in the grave
I speak.

Behold!
Here is the white chair
Here is the speech
Here is my *******
Rotating as you preach

Forsake my vested energy
Take your begotten gift
Brace yourself, insert it rectally,
And doth my a** do kiss.

In ages past, we lived in dark,
awaiting light to split the night,
for wisdom’s voice to pierce the gloom
and birth a world anew.

But these days may be the darkest yet,
as crowds embrace old fear and hate,
reviving chains long thought undone—
the past returned in present fate.

In days of old, the brave took arms
against a tyrant’s deadly charms,
who hunted those beyond his creed—
and now his age returns with speed.

Now comes a time of poisoned speech,
as lords above the poor still preach,
driving all to ruin and wrack
from castles drifting high and black.

Where are the heroes to lead us back—
to days when wisdom lit the track,
where all walked safely, hand in hand,
in freedom’s light across the land?

Where is the safety?
The freedom of the land?

They say speak your truth,
but only...
only if it doesn’t make others uncomfortable.
Can't smile it away.
They say speak up,
but only...
only if you aren’t too loud.
They say walk proudly and tall,
but only...
only if you don’t attract too much attention.
Can't smile it away.
Though I am tired...
Tired of listening to their empty advice.
You can change for so many people...
you no longer recognize yourself...
until there is nothing left of your true form.
Can't smile it away.
The truth of the prejudices that still exist,
the harmful biases,
the injustices which live in our world,
are not erased, simply...
simply because some choose to ignore them.
Can't smile it away.
The misogyny which exists in our world,
cannot be tucked under the rug,
it can’t be smiled away.
These sentiments aren't meant to bring joy,
these words are not fragile,
these words are not beautiful,
this is just me,
speaking about the truth,
and not feeling ashamed to speak it.
Can't smile it away.
There are still far too many places...
places where women must fear...
fear to walk down their own street,
ever watchful of the hands...
hands of those who feel...
feel their bodies are not their own,
because they are women,
because of their gender.
Can't smile it away.
There are still far too many who do not realize,
that many generations of slavery and oppression,
have left their mark on current generations,
and that hate still lives.
Can’t smile it away.
There are still far too many prejudices which poison the minds,
of those who fear...
fear a religion foreign to their own,
and too many wars are still waged,
in the name of religion.
And when does it end?
You can’t smile it away.

-Rhia Clay

How am I?
How am I?
I am oppressed.
Here, I am not free
Or heard
Or respected.
Here, I am told what to do with my own body.

And I can’t help but wonder—
How dare they?
How dare they force me into a piece of cloth,
One they know I will disregard?
How dare they back me into a corner
And wrap me in a headscarf?
How dare they oppress me for my freedom
And cover me as if that's the answer?

Why punish the victim,
When that won’t stop the victor?
Why shun the abused
While glorifying the abuser?

How dare they expect me to listen—
How dare they,
When I have a fire that can’t be put out
Not even by my blood and tears.

The moon, in its monolith state,
watching the earth as it torments itself alive.
The flames, sprinting house to house,
building to building-
cleaning the flesh and bones of the fleeing,
while it feasts on their names.
"Father! Father! Why are they doing this to us?!"
"Son...because we... are aliens..."
"Father?..."
...
...
...
Chains are put on,
running through generation to generation,
feeding on revenge, rage, and trauma-
down to the ancestral, cultural r’üts of the race.
Until then, the oppressed stares into their ancient scars.
Only seeing their own hands
dripping with fresh bludhymn
for the actions that are not
yet-
committed.

Clouds pass overhead.
Time grows ancient.
"Is it because we are devils?"
-centuries of clouds pass-
"... because we are robots."
-centuries of clouds pass-
"They imprisoned - the humans."
-centuries of clouds pass-
"Why am I born as an angel?"
-centuries of clouds pass-
"Why am I... different?"

These voices echo throughout the sky-
into roots that remember
every life they've ever swallowed,
into blood that refuses
to forget a single drop,
into threads that
can never unravel,
into...
upon...
its own...
endternal...
reflection.

Thus, built upon oppression,
                                        after oppression–
                             after oppression–
                    after oppression–
          after oppression–
after…

Coordinated point of obstruction of funding
Impairment point incision
Trinity Lutheran church corruption
Of government border of property line
Next coordinated obstructionist procurement
Of holding chambers within
Earmark
Fire station invested and upgraded
Modern architecture
Versus homeless death metric
This is to acquire feeding rights before God and leave
Private property by force and depricate hostage

From depricated state of faculty
Another day is taken home by dawn's early light
That's a journalled day in the books