Voodoo

Envy arrows circle me
from all directions
I can’t move
without being hurt

Evil energy surrounds me
She’s casting a spell
doing voodoo

Her needles pierce me
organ by organVoodoo

Brain, lungs, knees
neck, vagina, feet
legs, fingers, cheeks
all’s punctured

Internal organs shrink
one by one

First my stomach, liver
Then my lungs, veins
uterus, ovaries
bladder, kidneys

When my insides become
disintegrated
dysfunctional
defeated
my outside starts
decay

Eyes and nose shrink
bones brake
blood coagulates

I become powder

 

Except for one surviving organ

My guts
strong as fuck
remains alive
digesting needles
re-building a body
immune to witchcraft

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Progress

The poem below is by a friend who was too shy to reveal their identity, but were happy to know that their poem could reach other human beings through this blog. I hope you enjoy it as I did!

Progress

It moves in a zig-zag form,
Defying all the science of the norm.
It grows up from defeat,
A flower in the wretched heat.
It’s fertilized and prized among the swarm.

It’s promised in the shiny distant light,
Teased from the disease of left and right.
A silent beacon in our heart,
That can pull the world apart,
It’s the oscillating curve of day and night.

We like to see a comeback,
So we cast ourselves behind.
A vote against our interests,
A grievance in our mind.
We’re inching up to heaven,
Where the wicked come to play.
Progress is the purpose,
It’s the way.

It copulates in spaces found between,
The knowing glowing faces on our screen.
Its circuit is complete,
With every status, every tweet.
A million tiny deaths in the machine.

It scares the squares beneath their broken sphere,
It engages all the changes that they fear.
They’ve fought it for so long,
But the resistance makes it strong.
It helps the blind to see, the deaf to hear.

We like to be heard,
So we raise our voices loud,
In the friendly echo chamber,
Of a complimentary crowd.
We try to fight the impulse,
But protests ricochet.
Progress is the purpose,
It’s the way.

Mother

The horizon line is no longer flat
It’s rippled
By forces underneath

I slide through water
As mold grows on my skin

I have no shelter.
Currents thrust me
To where they see fit

I live in the home of whales
And breathe
The oxygen of fish

My food, salt water
Sunlight, seaweed

I’m one with my mother
The Ocean

Rough, powerful
Loving, deadly
Mother of all life

Womb from which I came
And to which I return

As my soul finds its place
Somewhere above or below
My body remains
Is shared among creatures
Becomes soil, food, water
Gives back
Becomes mother
Again

Election Night

Tonight
A spear pierced my chest
It injected in my core
The pain of all humanity

All of us
From the lowliest to the loftiest
Poor, rich
Women, men
Immigrant, native
Gay, straight
Of all races, countries and religions
I think of them all

But tonight
My chest bleeds
For the most forgotten
The pain of the menial is the pain of mine
Their torment is my torment
Their tears are my tears

Tonight
I want to scream to the world
With the thin air dribbling out of my bloody lungs
That there’s someone praying
Quietly, droopingly, but incessantly
For the lowliest of the lowliest
The poor, gay, black…
Or anyone
Who didn’t have the luck
To be born white, male

Tonight
My will is to give a universal hug
Embrace the forgotten
Comfort them all in my arms

But I also want
To embrace my fiercest enemies
The very people who think I don’t matter
The ones who grope my pussy
Who think I’m worth less because of my gender
Who call me rapist because of my country of origin
Who mock me because of my disability
Who lynch me because of my race
Who call me terrorist because of my religion
Who hate me because of the people I love

Tonight
I’ll embrace them all
The oppressed and the oppressor
Equally

Because I want to believe
That love is still possible
That forgiveness is still the answer
That the prayer of a stabbed soul is still worthy
And that humanity’s end goal is still heaven

Sleep

Of a no-hoper, who’s left to take heed?
No one, nothing but coldness she’s given
1:00 a.m., one Xanax to make her sleep

Her companion, the droplets of her weep
Her mistakes, she knows won’t be forgiven
Of a no-hoper, who’s left to take heed?

Tonight not even light will make her see
The dormant hopes that remorse has hidden
2:00 a.m., one Xanax to make her sleep

His presence couldn’t help, but make her weak
Ashamed and guilty, she had to leave him
Of a no-hoper, who’s left to take heed?

She wishes one day she’ll find the key,
The answer to make her tempers even
3:00 a.m., one Xanax to make her sleep

The stars should show a map for her to seek
The brilliance she’s lost but still believe in
Of a no-hoper, who’s left to take heed?
4:00 a.m., one Xanax to make her sleep

Cowardice

She showed up in a summer skirt,
A form-fitting t-shirt
And low neck.

Between her breasts, a pendant
Containing his initials.

It didn’t bother me at first.
I was too busy.

But she went away.
I went home

Bringing a haze
Of swaying letters,

Emblems of the merriment
She enjoys with him

Compared to the complacency
I bear with my woman.

The letters swam in my mind
All day
And all night
And all day…

Reminding me
Of my misery
And envy.

 

 

Insomnia

Poem by William Curtis of www.YourTopicYourPrice.com on the topic I gave him – insomnia

*****

never moreWilliamCurtis
the eyes to close,
for sleepings such a bore.

but oh my god
the body heaves
and breathes upon deaths door.
let me rest
and dream a bit,
for this is getting thick.

stress the concept of
my leisure, vigilant
its rights. gnawing on the
goal of pleasure
what is true cant be defined.
worlds dissolved in present moment
colors of my mind.
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