The sun felt so foreign
As it’s swapped with a blood red duplicate
Shining down rays echoing
Across my universe
While everyone else had blue skies
Why would anyone envy the haunted?
Tag Archives: Poetry
Toxic Positivity
So I guess I should shut up and smile, yeah?
A happy face for me to be in the best place?
What is this cult?
Bottling up the hurt was low-key encouraged
While I would be silenced by smiles
Obscuring bleak realities
As the florescent-hued abuse walloped me ad nauseum
Untitled Ryuka
Insults become the widest din
All from those covering their ears
Coming from the collective screams
All from those afflicted
Another Untitled Poem
Hello
Have you ever lived under constantly stormy skies?
One wonders what the sun even looks like at this point
Some rays did show from across the Atlantic
Unlikely sources including a champion
Offered some solar essences
They were appreciated
Yet it was no panacea
One still wanted to trade their existence for another
Finally an Official Holiday, But There Should Be More (Juneteenth)
Tomorrow would be the first time it became federal
This 2nd Independence Day of sorts had every right to be known
156 years too long
For all to know about that important day
The papers were signed and the calendars will have it for future generations
While a federal holiday was a good gesture
Bigotry didn’t and wouldn’t stop there
The hatred towards those descended from the emancipated was still at a fever pitch
The denials of American history become stronger
Attempting to burn the books despite the net existing
Was freedom truly free?
Was there a pure jubilation in sight?
After the last one was found in Galveston all this time
Would “All people are created equal” actually mean what is says on paper?
These Wings Feel Severed
The main purpose went wayward…again
Walls become solid cages
With no room for the wingspan
Assuming if the wings were still there
This “shire” is leaderless…
Plica Vocalis Retribution
They wanted the purest silence
24 karat taciturn acoustics
Whenever the “wrong” kind of male voice is spotted in earshot
Not a raised one or a defiant one
Just existing made them inflamed
Vying for the erasure for the crime of just being
Excuses compound together
Under the subterfuge of azure eyes
The extraction happened
No contract, warnings, or potions
Yet chaining the vocal cords
The desire to bring it back scorched brightly
Once the morales lower than Mariana’s Trench were in sight
Diving towards a thousand fathoms
Where no one can hear anyone scream
Vocal larceny was at it’s peak
And it was a challenge to get it back
How dare they rob the sound
Once the voice would be retrieved
Only a more aggressive homage to a devil ray mage crafted by the Rising Sun
Yet transplanted from a Nordic kingdom would suffice for them
The thievery guild will be repaid in kind
Forever the muted scourges
Writhing without sound
As bodies dissolve into foam
On the acidic ocean they created
Such retribution was a primal scream
When the thieves became infautated by their romance of one person’s silence
Awakened More Than I Wanted
So much was unearthed
The horrors of the world came to light
Freddie, Jason, Michael, all cowered with these revelations
Beheaded people in museums
Children’s bones used in universities without the parents’ consent
Denying the slaughtering of thousands
Were all put on display
Eyes were forced open in unexpected ways
As one couldn’t look away anymore
Reprogramming
Resetting imminent
Massive upgrades incoming
Purge toxicity
Obscured Atrocities
Sometimes I want to burn my diploma and degree
When the autodidact grabbed the driver seat
History was redacted and crossed out
Before excavating began
Gasps were emitted
When the bodies and blood were revealed
The horrors became more gross
As the tales came from my own home country
Tulsa, Rosewood, Natchez, and so many more
The brutality came to light without me being in a classroom
Mass murders and unfettered violence
As the perpetrators were never held to account
Worse yet, encouraged to inflict as much suffering as possible
The so-called third world jumps out of their collective seats
While telling this side of the hemisphere how they can’t talk
Prepare to stare at the kettle
See the planks through the blindfolds
These noses should be lowered
To smell the carnage that was once buried
As the innocents scream from beyond the afterlife
