Truth is dead
Men murdered it
At its young age
Blinking like fading lights
They lie with their eyes
The tongue is tied
And the cords
We do not see
And when it rises
Like bouncing *****
On barbed wires
The words are deflated
And truth is murdered
Because trust has been buried
In the dark background of their hearts
And the offspring of truth
Are thought to be an outcast.
But always triumph
Because truth never dies.

In the dark streets of
unhappy endings,
where needles numb the
pain in a dying vein.
The missing and the lost
light the skies
as colours flash and dance,
waving their goodbyes.

Inspired by Tina Fontaine

I’m living the dream, the dream where women are are free, free to explore themselves, be themselves before the vicious white patriarchy cuts them down for sport.

These women are beautiful, these women are fierce. They laugh at the inevitable violence every one of them will face. They laugh because they know that it cannot last.

One by one their beauty is carved up for the masses to consume, thier spark swallowed by the holy violence of their male oppressors. The never ending cycle of youth taken away from the breast of life to be fed to the machine.

These beautiful women of colour where society discards them like trash, sold like slaves to white families with picket fences that hide atrocities that no woman should face.

Soulless, loveless the machine knows what it wants, it wants our young beautiful women, our future.

The ones who survive are the ones who beat the machine, they become the teachers for the ones taken away to live the dream.

We are the missing, the dead, the lost
Never found, and in the world
No monument exists for us
No flag has been unfurled

We lie in riverbeds and wood
Beneath stream beds and in fields
Were tears of woe ever wept for us?
Did a heart break, did it yield?

We wandered off in cases, some
In others, lured, abductions
Our bodies never found, but though
We caused a family some reduction

In others, we were found too late
Dead, mistreated in a hole
The one who did this thing to us
Until caught, ******* their soul

We lie here waiting for the day
For our remains to be found
We lie in woodlots, basements cold
Buried crudely in the ground

Some of us were lost before
We ever lost our lives
Roaming streets, with no real home
Dancing on a hundred knives

Some of us are living
Still at odds with where we are
We're prisoners inside our mind
And have gone and wandered far

But, those of us, the dead, the cold
Lie waiting for the day
When our bones will be discovered
And then at rest we'll lay

Are there people out there looking?
Many years for us have passed
Are we still an open case?
Or has the time for that just passed?

Do we still have family waiting?
Time goes slowly when you're lost
We lost our lives to violence
And I question at what cost?

Are we still considered missing?
With us the searching will not cease
We lie here, the dead, the missing
Until our souls can be at peace

This world is corrupt
Children murdered everyday
it's time we end it

here. hold a knife. point it at my chest. stab the strife.
here. hold a blade. place it at my wrist. cut the hate.
here hold a gun. aim it at my head. shoot then run.
here. hold a bomb. throw it in the air. watch it explode.
here. hold my heart. smash it to my face. witness me fall.

that's for me, for falling in love with the boy who murdered love.