#revolutions
I'm a woman,
and I’m not ashamed of it
I am not an object or a tool;
I will not be submissive or humiliated
We will not stop fighting for our rights
In many countries,
women suffer; men torture and **** them,
and they don’t have access to education,
even though they have the potential to achieve great things
They live in dire conditions
I still believe that one day we will be equal
Women will be recognized everywhere in the world as living beings, not just as adornments or a means to bear children
Let our voice for equality and women's rights not be weakened.
Oct 2, 2024
Oct 2, 2024 at 9:08 AM UTC
i am trying to come to terms
with gravity
as i fall toward the floor
with the awareness of the your
face framed in the hall door.
that's an exaggeration—
there's a certain inaccuracy
in conversations about bodies,
personal and celestial, revolutions one around the other,
that is unavoidable due to limitations
of the form. so i like to be precise
where it can fit in between the
cumbersome dances we do.
i'm not falling toward the floor
but i might as well be. i can't tell you that.
what's wrong you ask again
but something i read about planets
is that they're much farther apart than the human mind
can even conceptualize. that most of space is empty
and cold as we dare to spin through it.
i'm thinking of the audacity of revolutions
and you just wanna know why i'm so sad.
i think about bodies. sinew and joints and the red
****** meatstuff that fills in the places in between.
a heart pumping blood and a mouth that refuses to admit it.
about the physicality, the weight of it sinking
into beds that aren't mine, bodies that aren't mine.
you're not standing in the doorway anymore, no one
stands in doorways forever. especially not
for someone who refuses ownership
of the space taken up by their own body. constellations
are outlines of disparate points someone tried to find a
story in. i'm not much better.
i think of heavenly bodies, i think of stars
but they don't tell me anything
i wasn't trying to deal with already.
Apr 17, 2021
Apr 17, 2021 at 3:50 AM UTC
It is only through written words
that I feel a silenced voice can have its own
projections and room to roam a space.
A minority’s opinions are ignored
and taken less to consideration because
of a majority’s desire to make their stand the right one.
So, where the world listens at their call
to 'maintain order and progress' in a society,
we the silent, the quiet, the compromised, will step forward
in writing to push the envelope and attempt a freedom,
one they cannot prevent. That is, the need to express our frustrations, our inner want for freedom and more importantly, a recognition
in the littlest of spaces – that of blank pieces of paper.
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 2:34 PM UTC
Air soaked with yellow heat.
leaves shaking the dark-green dread,
Silence on the narrow street,
Where our fathers lost the battle,
There! The firing squad is loud
They cried to history and fear
They cried to death and uncertainty
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 1:37 AM UTC
Made, Made, Made,
We are made into what we are.
We are made
Into monsters,
Into dreamers;
Believers.
We make ourselves;
Make each other.
We make our kingdoms
and our own personal Hells.
We are the queens of our realms
And the kings and princes
We are the villains
The rabble-rousers
The Revolutionaries.
We are the killers
Of our enemies
Of our own
Of the land.
We are made into what we are
And oftentimes,
It is not our fault.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 1:17 PM UTC
what is more gentle,
than this pillow of the light?
a life narrowing,
in a bright feather dance
that sweeps across the sea
or covers our faces in shadows.
where do you go when you leave me?
now I am nocturnal,
a bliss bandit,
cooing at stars
one thousand miles high.
shaking like a tea kettle,
I am the black *** black,
shaking,
shivering.
Swallowing pieces of your light,
in the back-room jungle where I sew,
tears to the bottoms of my eyes,
where no one ever goes.
I know days,
hours,
one minute
where I gambled time
and stood behind you
with my fingers
on your shoulders
and my mouth on your neck.
What it takes to be apart,
split in half,
shucked from birth;
it takes every thing I
ever owned,
every note I ever sang,
each breath that I will make-
some thought I stand up on,
my knees quivering below me.
five kinds of drugs
just to see straight, to hold
my hands steady or
sleep at night.
your lavender flavor
is still in me.
you in me.
one.
two.
soaking in this forgotten city,
Earth's heroes drifting away.
I could never eat again, or
cast a spell, or touch the same.
while burning I may never
stand
on these same two feet again.
four years,
a photograph.
one voice,
softening into my skin,
that I never may forget.
that this beard is of
an old man, should I never
count again
blessings or songs.
I dive into the flame
and study this journey backwards.
so I should never forget,
everything so serious
as this
as you, in me.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC