A Berlin monastic church of blood
shed by true witnesses to freedom’s love:
These few who stood against the flood
of hate from tyrants they rebuffed.

Not far from here, these martyrs were killed
for facing down the brownshirts’ might,
in hopes that all would someday be filled
with the will to live for love’s delight.

Here Mary sits with her holy child,
carved of warm wood, set on cold stone.
She bears an expression, calm and mild,
with nothing around them: alone.

Her robes are daubed in palest blue
while her hair with a golden crown is wed;
her baby son wears redder hues
that foreshadow blood he and his martyrs shed.

This blessèd Mary’s calm defies the fear
decreed by despots in past and present years —
Softly, she whispers her granite will: Defy
all tyranny ’til hate’s tides subside.

Atop a high knoll, a Gothic arbor. The town
below seethes in blustery breezes that whirl
around the few trees, bare and brown:
A tempest’s iron furies unfurl.

Two lovers stand on the hill’s stony ground
beneath the arbor’s brick sky
as they look out over the city around
them: marching clouds descend from on high.

The winds whip higher and stir dead leaves
while they hold one another’s warm hands.
Though the bleak scene may lead them to grieve,
no: In togetherness, they make their stand.

They fight, fight for their love: It ignites
their glowing embers of heartlight.

Paralysis sets in,
A symptom of existential dread
How did we get here again?
How did people vote to
Make America 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 Again?

There’s nothing great about
Oppression or misogynistic expression
There’s nothing great about
The home of the brave
When so many don’t feel free.

No glory to God be;
Inauguration will be a day of mourning.
As I look for hope in honoring
The legacy of Dr. King.
May Civil Resistance fill the streets.

Let us tend to community;
For the next four years
Will require resilience and revolution.
Let us care for each other;
In numbers, there is strength.

May our sorrow and rage be a
Tool for Justice.
May we rest when we feel hopeless.
Democracy will not go down without a fight
The time to prevail is here.

© KSS 1/19/2025

i was there when it happened:
when the clowns fell off the bandwagon -
when the curtains burned down,
and the farce ran out of fashion;
when the savages dispatched -
their army of assassins.

i was there, when the world stood still
in a void so deep no beauty could fill;
when the mountain of lies -
crumbled back to a molehill;
when the rubbles rained like hellfire,
and truth had lost its will.

i was there, when the wrath of the masses -
echoed the streets, and shattered the glasses;
i later reflected, on the root of the violence -
there wasn't a good defense for the upper classes.

i close my eyes, and wait for dawn;
lay half-asleep, with the curtains drawn:
agamemnon's doom, forever lives on -
i'm still here -
and the show goes on...

Sadness and rage
Boil under my skin
A fear, a desperation
Festering within.

We will not go back.
How can we?
How did we even get here again
In the first place?

I'm so angry,
And scared and nervous
For my own body
For many loved ones lives.

That orange ******* man.
The weak minds of his following
So much hate within him.
So much evil lurking.

I can't sleep sometimes
When the stirring gets too vast
It sits deep down, down, down
Inside my belly.

Get your bans of my body.
Anxiety rings in my mind.
And I won't pretend to even begin to understand
How others feel because I get that my skin is white.

Too much to hold internally
My body begins to shake
My head begins to pound.
My blood begins to boil.

I feel like lighting **** on fire.
Deep breathing doesn't help.
I feel like screaming.
I've got to let this out.

Just then I start to hear a whisper
A reminder traveling on the
Rustling leaves.

T R A N S M U T E
this energy.

Move into a place of love.
Let the tears flow.
Let the brush stroke.
Let the earth heal.
Let the rage guide.
Let the anger speak.
Let the fear release.
Let the words out.
Let the drum beat.
Let the feet stomp.
Let the hips dance.
Let the hands give.
Let the heart hold.
Let the love grow.
Let it rise up.
From the depths of your altruistic soul.

We are not going back.
We will vote to win.
We will not back down.
We will stand our ground.
We will walk with strength.
We will be hand in hand.
We will cross that bridge.
We will see love resound.
We will lift one another up.
We will not let fear win.
We will not let hate live.
We will prevail again, and again, and again.

©KSS 9/29/2024

I’m not sure if Mercury was in retrograde or if Sega was in genesis, but you slipped an unwelcome touch into my orbit & I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.

The Proclaimers hummed in the background as the aunties shrugged…

“Some people are born with tragedy in their blood.”

The nooseman approaches & with surrender on my lips, I say: “Sew me into the creases of your hemlocked hood.”

Tiny holes cut for beady gapes.
Do. Not. Look. Away.

The moon is wailing in chorus with mothers & brothers in hidden crypts over mountains of headless children born into snake pits.

800-588-2300…EMPIRE…today is the day we set you on fire. More cobra with desire until you suffocate on centuries of soul weight.

The ground opens up & the universe obliterates.

A spare bedroom tea set gathers dust in shadow of craven lust for more & more & more. The **** of a boy & the **** of the world. Holy rage steeped to liberation. Comrades healing together with blades unfurled.

No longer will we cower & beg for a piece of what’s already ours. The serpent’s spine rotting on concrete.

All hail the death of tyranny.