#soapbox
Wrong? Me?
No. Never.
I get up on my soap-box, and
I sing, instead of pray.
©2026Ellen Finn
Jan 28
Jan 28, 2026 at 4:02 PM UTC
When stories
of scars told
in one town,
become this legend
in the next, retold to grow
on, even as we listen and find it told
a better way,
So long ago we know,
so long now,
nobody knows,
stories be told to comfort,
none should be used to frighten,
or terrorize in the darkness, true,
holy terror
first we can recall, or was that
in a movie?
Maybe Fantasia, when you were three.
When was a way
to make a tie
to an instant
to which our social entities loosely anchor,
global Disneyification, animating old devils,
using Voltaire's rule
for adult conversations,
define the terms, regarding evil for good,
about Nuclear War,
at the final judgement of us all,
my side submits the work
of Annie Jacobsen, and offers the next 72 minutes
to a journey
*a parsa, in contemplation
at least that long,
through a story
thought after knowing
a minute's worth
of ever after,
once one is old enough,
the trouble one causes,
when one dies, shan't change history,
the kids could make it from here.
*
A parsa is a distance walkable in 72 minutes.
72 minutes is how long it takes
for human influence
on the future
to be unthinkable,
for 30 thousand years…
after the first launch
of a nuke from anywhere, really.
No nation ever wins nuclear war.
Nov 10, 2024
Nov 10, 2024 at 4:50 PM UTC
Sentience is life
Sanctity a lie
Sayin it alive
"I think therefore I am"- Descartes
So may as well be a slab of ham a part
Ship the guts off to a lab grow a heart
Social value before Science breakthrough
Society lies before Society lives
Public hysteria some Hateful euphoria
Cloud regulation
With false allegation
Corrupt litigation
By holy congregation
A rights desecration
In an uptight nation
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC
I work for the machine
that bashes bastardized beauty
into the face of the masses
The status quo
of oppressing the Goddess
to some golden ratio
of ***** perfection
"We set the standards, baby"
An arrogance of man,
A battle born in blood
objectifying some sacred symbol,
The cosmic ****
we all crawled out of
as star dust
The holy hole
to heaven on Earth
Gaia taken advantage of
Rejecting the gift of consciousness
We'll de-evolve
like past-life regressions
like we're so self-entitled to
come back around
Among the cosmos
cradled in the crescent
Deny yourself the mystique of the feminine
The clashing of the anima and animus
The syzergy of
the sun
the moon
and us
Call on your angels
And submit to the psychosis
My brothers,
These are our
sisters and mothers
They don't want to castrate
The ******* symbol
Destroy the alpha male
And the omega oppression
The beginning and the end of
**** shaming
I worked for the
misogyny machinery of Moloch
My heart no longer beats here
It just bleeds for her.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 9:13 AM UTC
If a congregation were to slowly grow
like a flock of birds coming to feed
And I stand amidst at the middle point
Everyone's ears waiting like children
As they're giving me the chance
to exhale the sickness that has dwelled in my lungs
To release a speech that deafens the demons
so that they'd no longer follow the sound of my steps
Giving me a chance to confess
all shame and regrets
Granted the moment to free my soul
from the prison of what's unspoken
And to free my head
from its delusional fiction
The time is drawing nigh
as the Sun has traveled the sky
Everyone has arrived in assuring attendance
Except my words
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 4:51 AM UTC