This is a political satire rant of a poem.
No white cis gendered men need apply

No black macho men either

No republican gay people apply

you’re not even alive

You know what only women allowed here

No matter how you identify

No natural health anti vaccers

No climate deniers

That means don’t question reality

in case I needed to clarify

No Israel defenders
No American veterans

and no police wives

no none of you need apply

girls and boys separate

starting early now

protect the girls from the patriarchal state

Black and whites separate

They’ll let you out when the time is right

Whenever they need some tension
To cause a fight

Any one that questions this

sit down and be quiet

No Christians

No Jews

No Amish

no preachers
and no home schooled teachers

No God fearing philosophical people here
No libertarian politics here
You blasphemers, hate mongers and stoners
line up to be stoned

 

no cisgendered white men apply
no no cisgendered men need apply

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Saw you standing there

you looked like you might be

trapped in some bored reality

that had you so shaken

that you just had to be idle

I saw you anger there

behind your eyes that feel deeper

deeper than you’ll ever let me know

those eyes that look deeper

deeper than we’ll ever go

I saw you see my words

and then look away

when your mind runs and hides

with the long list of reasons

and restraints ,priorities

and sadness and pride

I saw you bring down the wall

just for a second so I could see

see you dancing and see you sing
see you happy

and pretending you could be free
I saw you making love

making love to me

I saw that brick you handed me
to put in to places

diverse and far apart
to begin a wall around and around my heart
I saw that one too

something to remind me
and to remember you

Because I saw the wall
between us
where we can both see

but can never really touch

over this chasm

that is filled with only so much
but never enough

no never close enough

I saw you wanting

and wanton I saw you

I saw you so close
but you are always far away

 

Missing Words

We were word people

and that is how we flew

rhyme taking us above

to things unknown

yet we could get to

we were word people

and not the wasted type

nothing spilling on the floor

and wasting space and air

not the kind that makes the head ache

or the soul long for solace

not the kind that wears

yeah we were word people

Now it all that is unsaid

unheard
misunderstood

and unread

too much to say
gets lost in the silence

and the time that passes

killing this word person

 

 

Undressed

I’m so tired
here at the end of this year
this year of mourning

denied and repressed

until I cried alone

and alone I undressed

I’m so tired
the end of this year of failed starts
classes that were endured
in a high healing smoke
friends and family  that isolate me
in their righteous fist waving
look me in the face and call me those names

I guess the more we try to prove

the more we stay the same
becoming what we hate
and the hate just breeds more hate
and accuses the other of the same
and it just gets louder
until alone you cry
and alone you get dressed

and we can put on faces
and we can take up causes
but in that mirror of our anger

we still face the last laugh
in our sad but true nakedness

as we raise our righteous fists
and rot in our pride

and hang ourselves on our lies

I’m so tired
tired of these petty sins

that get shoved in our faces again and again

give me my pipe and my paper
and let me see my friends

take your arguments
for they will always be there

take your words that cut

because one day you’ll see the people in between the lines

take all the support only love could give

and then slap me with the time that remains

like some kind of retrograde

take all the support and use it like a soapbox

point your finger and preach
yes…because we become what we hate
and eventually hate what we become

and one day you will be alone

while you are coming undone

and I’m tired

at the end of the year of transitions
I didn’t even get to welcome the change
since all the anti shame warriors then felt the need to shame
so go get on your soap box and leave me be
hand me my pipe and free the weed

because in this circle the real life doers are still getting along

understanding life and love and peace

and we don’t put on faces
and we don’t take up causes
that mirror nothing but the oppressor

and we know who has the last laugh
on the last days of all of our age

when we mirror what we hated

when we face what we run from

when we undress
alone

 

 

 

 

 

Privileged American Floors

Living constantly in a four walled room
that takes the same keys at all of it’s doors
see all our neighbors thru the windows
because nobody has decency anymore

and that same recipe calls for the two kinds of cake that everybody wants
so they can eat and have their food fight live

some eat with their hands

and some eat with their knives

and some just starve on their hamster wheels

quickly spinning blind

 

and me and all my neighbors

are Living on the grid of a hard wired hangover

and a stimulation high

of a sensitized extravagant soul

and zombified mind

wishing and hoping our cake gets its prize

and all the tenants run for the same door

but not till the shit gets tracked all over this

privileged American floor

we listen to music from paper mache singers
and we read stories about other zombies
and fall in love with vampires
and we think of Mao fondly

because we cant stand being alive
and the effort it takes to breathe
but we sure don’t want to die
and we clearly dont want to leave

our foreclosed house
funded by our virtual needs
and we keep watering
our rootless trees

and we just keep

Living constantly in a four walled room
that takes the same keys at all of it’s doors
and the curtains are waiting to be hung
because nobody has in decency anymore

and in our desperation we cant seem to get through those doors

without leaving shit on our privileged American floors

 

 

 

 

Standing in that place
where I had talked about moving

Staring at the place
where I just kept looking

I was waiting in the space

Where dreams come true

All those time they should

when they come looking for you

somewhere outside fairhope

We’ll always run these roads

We’ll always lay in this sand
And when we get old

we’ll talk about the beautiful

time when we were carefree

No matter how far we go

in our drunken minds
our turning years
in our bruised lines
and wild angry tears

We’ll grow old waiting
waiting in the space

 

so I never venture far

outside of Fairhope

outside of Fairhope

We’ll always run these streets

We’ll always lay in this sand

And we’ll stay young and free

and fighting the odds

and too scared to believe

that we might ever leave

 

 

 

Yellow Butterfly/A true story

That love of mine

he loved the butterflies

floating off to the other side

that love of mine

was trying so hard

to get his wings

and in the months later

I kept asking why
why my love wouldn’t tell me bye

was there nothing for me
and I kept looking for my butterflies

that love of mine

Walking along the side

and there was this yellow butterfly

working its way across the concrete

crippling along it’s way

I let him in my hand
and cried about what to do

where to place him for his quiet struggle

and like a miracle he took off

in some beautiful flight

oh… I remembered

and laughed for the free light

of those yellow wings

that love of mine

he loved butterflies

and talked about the next turn

the next life

the next flight

and so my love flew

but not before being in my hand
and thanking me

for the lift

on the next flight…