The will to care is still there
Yet the stream and loops cause the well to be fatigued Thriving on tragedy is a misconception by others It becomes predictable exposing obvious atrocities and hypocrisy If only there could be a world where a poem like this wouldn’t have to exist
As everyone finds excuses to wear green and possibly drinking beer
The realization hit as the world came to a screeching halt Not by bombs, guns, planes, or even UFOs But by an invisible force 6 feet or more away from each other Zooming all day and seeing faces via Facetime Essentially leaving certain places still open Panic surrounding others As a certain brand of idiocy is born Memories of empty grocery shelves, missing hand sanitizer bottles, or wipes wiped from the aisles Mountains of toilet paper loaded in carts Or even Kenny Omega singing a lullaby to a few 2 ply rolls in a hotel room What was the world coming to? This wasn’t an overnight fix, but the tensions still remain
The selective logic just became more obvious
Those who thought the former duchess was attention seeking Were the same who sobbed about Robin Williams and Chester Bennington to name a few Saving face was the name of the game As people become keyboard mental health activists of convenience Where was MY sympathy whenever I spoke up about my issues years ago? I wouldn’t be surprised if my former bouts of self-harm made certain people ecstatic Mental health only mattered to some As the addendums don’t need to be addressed explicitly or reverse engineered dog whistles Others should be thankful I’m not a troll or a bully Who knows what psychological damage I could do if I was good at insulting others Maybe being kind wasn’t as much of a weakness (even with my bouts of solipsism) Digital facades have always been on parade As I’ve seen those who’ve said “Be kind!” Have been total douchebags offline and/or online Spare me the fake encouragement
Moving from the Green Star all the way to the Centennial State
Starting a new life for this family of five All for a fatal blaze to snuff out these innocent souls The injustice was a mile high like the city they resided Parents and children all destroyed by satanic teens in masks While the flames were from the igniting bigotry One suspect didn’t fit the narrative of the conglomerates As it was contrary to an unrelated isolated incident to fuel propaganda Thank the Divine they’ll face justice as adults while living to tell about it Others have been erased despite never slaughtering men, women, and children Diol family, you didn’t deserve this May your murderers face the most severe of consequences Here’s a link to this story: https://www.thedenverchannel.com/news/crime/two-teens-charged-as-adults-in-connection-to-denver-house-fire-that-killed-senegalese-family
Did you feel happy defiling so many innocent souls?
To say there were kid’s gloves involved would be a gross understatement #MeToo ignored you and your wife, but I didn’t About time the consequences rained down on you But it still looks like a slap on the wrist When others faced more time for less How many people would be able to get away with destroying children Especially after they were on THAT registry back in their home country? How many people did you bribe in one or both nations? You better thank your privilege for only serving 16 years For those that don’t know what I’m referring to, then you can watch Preying Missionaries and this news clip from Kenya. Also, the fact Edmond Nyabola doesn’t have any journalism awards for breaking this story is a travesty, too. May God bless the victims and their families.
Avant-garde art and experimental films one day
Indie BritWres matches the next Anime after that Historical documentaries the day after Sprinkling some nonfiction books in between Before delving in manga pages After writing haikus and fiction concepts in a notebook Why am I a walking contradiction with these hobbies?
Breakers and crashing tides
In the moon-less night Shouting out to no one else The eyes could be there But the ears could be lightyears away Capsizing was imminent As leagues of falsehoods rise up to sink the wrecked freighter
Voices from the four corners were screaming out
A diaspora choir risked being drowned From Arica, Salta, Wolverhampton, to even Kharkiv Obscuring by ink and red tape Try to quiet the ongoing choir While branding them as nothing but “other” Other? They knew what this meant The collective chorale should be amplified Against the declaration to render them invisible
They say every one is a critic
I certainly wouldn’t deny it My silvery-platinum eyes were spectacles for others These opinions mattered more in multiple contexts While proud of these observations My pride in my own originality faded harder than vintage denim So many fires, so many embers Only a few would become pyrotechnics, though I wouldn’t want them to be altars Other creative works would be on display There was a joy in bringing light to the obscure from all around the world No, Japan wasn’t my only destination even though a section of this part of the net appreciated those shiny pennies from the Rising Sun While I’m versatile, I didn’t want to be confined Much less ashamed of having fandoms at all I prayed I wasn’t a failure in all my endeavors As I’ve thought for most of my life
Piano, repique, chico…
The sizes of the three drums brought such color When one was lost in cultural amnesia Credit slowly became due long after Barcelona’s crown was rejected The connection to the lost was retrieved By hand and by clave The memories flooded and the shame evaporated After centuries of propaganda Robust sounds burst by trios or infantries or cuerdas Encore, maestros!