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I tried, x
**
something I get a lot is, “you’re too young to be a feminist.”
too young to be a feminist for you’ve yet  to witness a rhyme or  reason to believe we lived in a patriarch-fueled
society where the erectile dysfunctions of men are paid for by health care but, God forbid a
woman seeks birth control to help herself
God forbid a woman does anything to help herself
a society where women are taught to be happy with what they can get
yet to be ashamed when they get it
a society where I grew up being taught not to trust a man for he’d hurt me but
taught to have the house clean and his dinner on the table when he got home
a society where a woman in a tank top and a pair of daisy dukes is a “***** who is asking for it”
when the same woman is what’s used to market the male population who are taught that this is the woman they deserve
a society where a woman is unworthy and ***** if she isn’t a ******
but a man is a man so long as he is “getting the hoes”
a society where women are taught to protect their innocence and their virtue
and the society where they are ostracized and ridiculed for not being ready
a society where consent is hopped, skipped, and jumped around and the so called “fact” issued by
Scott Johnson that says men can’t control their issues
a society where a woman’s womb is not her own whether she wants this baby or not
I was taught *** was shameful and wrong unless you were married
but please, give him a baby and keep him satisfied
we glorify teen pregnancies and ignore the accomplishments of women
if I’m too young to be a feminist,
then it’s quite **** sad I can point out what’s wrong in the world.

I'm sorry that I am inadequate
I am sorry that I am absolutely confident
I'm sorry that I'm happy
I'm sorry that you're miserable more than half the time
I'm sorry that you only start loving me once you've broken my heart and I have left

I am sorry that I am not rich or possess glamorous material
I am sorry that these are the type of people that you would settle for
I am sorry that where I come from there is no ego, smallness or bigotry
or watch dogs to keep stars in check so they're humble for there is no extreme self-ansorbtion
I'm am sorry that you cannot feel and I am not there to heal once your conscience starts to breathe
I am sorry that I have failures and dysfunctions
I am sorry that you feel small and inadequate when I achieve
I am sorry that when you are angry; everyone around you must be just as angry
I am sorry for the weakness in you to hurt others because you are constantly hurting and cannot contain it

I am sorry that I am not perfect and may not be everything you have ever dreamed
I am sorry that I have to be crucified for the mistakes and faults of previous lovers
I am sorry that I don't have a *** appetite when I am feeling down and low
I am sorry for being direct and sincere
I am sorry that there are certain things that I do not feel anymore, pains that just cut the broken pieces of my heart
I am sorry that wars have turned me into a recluse and gave me no choice but to grow
I am sorry that I resonate to vibrations that radiate positive energy
I am sorry that I found solace in solitude and understanding myself

I am sorry that womankind has been scarred by men who had failed to understand the feminine energy within themselves
I am sorry that I am to blame for your emotional instabilities
I am sorry that you cannot run as fast as the best athlete
I am sorry that I cannot drive as fast as the best Nascar driver for I do not have a car
I apologize for low tolerance for *******, lies and fakeness
I am sorry for my emotional scars
I am sorry for  intelligence when it cannot reach you
I am sorry that you cannot understand how wounded I am, if you did you'd stop trying to hurt me for you'd only be hurting yourself
And lastly I apologize that you lack self esteem to realize the magnanimous potential within you
but see it is self-esteem, work that you do on yourself with the support of those who serve goodness and your best interests

I am sorry that the world is filled with the filth of hell
but what the heck I cannot be sorry for searching for heaven in the circumstance.... So I'm not sorry for divinity.

Here we are
Toy soldiers, Barbie dolls
Monopoly money flying off the shelves
As intentions remain disguised,
A rush hour to nowhere.
Suspicion hangs heavy in the air.
Fingerprints of greed upon the land,
Stain the walls and smear every surface,
Tearing our world apart
Entangling us in a labyrinth of lingering agony.
As financial empires crumble and fall,
We tumble towards a dismal crown.

Here we are
A shot heard around the world
Misdirection concocted with twists of propaganda
A sinister plot to keep us quiet
While economic doom looms large,
Forcing us to gasp for breath in its tort.
We are sliding into a sea of hell,
Crafted with a sinister dusk,
Leaving us trapped in uncertainty.
A bipartisan fakery,
A manufactured reprieve of endless war
Bacchanal Celebration of the uniparty,
To keep us all in the duality
Of a totalitarian doomsday cult of our own making,
With ties to the darkest corners,
Where shadows dance in the hue.
Why did George Orwell paint a future so dire
Of totalitarian control, a world on fire?
To blackmail us into believing
We are incapable of repelling it,
Pressuring us to fear, to tyranny.
Wall Street proclaimed, "Greed is good,"
A mantra repeated, understood,
Molding our minds, shaping our views,
Enforcing belief in capitalism's ruse.
Political speech, a vile roast of reality,
A nonsensical tale of deceit,
Yet, within its twisted words,
Makes us struggle to comprehend our reality.
Revelations of a conning government,
Manufactured divisions run deep,
As secrets too dark to keep.
In the chaos of our unraveling,
We grasp for a glimmer of light,
But find ourselves lost in the darkness
Of a world consumed by blight.
Do The Right Thing, a mirror held to our face,
Amid conflict beyond repair.
We consume the lies, a terrible plight,
Believing we're powerless, as they've said.
Free falling into despair
Believing we're powerless as the moments fly by.

Here we are
We've been conned and betrayed.
In the shadows of towering skyscrapers,
Where dreams were once fashioned from thin air,
A secret kleptocracy aims to divide and deceive,
Bleeding us dry, as we unquestioningly believe
In our American uniqueness
Until we start blaming each other
While everything gets worse,
A dysfunctional elite
Building lies around dysfunctions
Inducing us into believing
Our eroding circumstances are our own,
As they steal our lives, forsaking us to atone.
Fake news media informs us to be angry and tribalized,
Daytime television warns our morality is compromised,
Local news instills fear in our neighbors, near and far,
As we celebrate masked actors, forgetting who we are.
Reality Tell-a-Vision doesn't tell our reality,
Preferably, it shows life's hedonistic strife.
Zombie television tells us the public remains our enemy.
Social media floods with existential rife,
With nonsense conspiracy theories and memes abound,
Telling us we're hopeless in a world so unsound.
On a never-ending track,
An all-time high in the belief that we are helpless,
No matter the bubbles we encase,
Bombarded with existential crises in every space,
A surge in apocalyptic film, literature, and games,
Telling us there's no way out of society's flames,
As we buy cans of Liquid Death, in our despair,
And drink Death Coffee to fuel our inner plight,
In this rotten farce, we see no end in sight.
For our entire lives, we've been led astray,
In a world where our strength is fading away,
Divided against itself in a power play so grand,
As we believe we're powerless.
But in the end, we're left alone,
In a world where truth is overthrown.
As we've been brainwashed with silent screams,
We find ourselves constantly shaking down.
Things escalate wildly in a world gone awry
Where Dr. Strangelove teaches us to stop and comply.
In the collapsed towers, nobody stands,
Only masked actors with bloodied hands
As we hurtle towards an inevitable brawl.

Here we are
Investigating the mountain of lies,
We uncover the truth, rotten to the core,
As vicious beasts roam in our streets.
Smoke and mirrors promise miraculous destinies,
But abandoning us stranded, battered, and frail.
In this desperate state of dying slowly,
Words ring true, screaming at us to wake up.
Yet suspicion clouds every intention,
As we ponder the reasons why.
The fabric of society frays at the seams,
As revelations tear through the veil,
Exposing the rot within our midst.
Our lives are a tangled web of deceit.
O say, can you see?
We are drowning in the sea.
On this moon of deception and decay,
We grasp for a semblance of truth,
But find ourselves drowning in the sea.
O say, can you see?
Did we go to the moon?
Why are we drowning in the sea?
Our Statue of Liberty is sinking fast and deep.
O say, can you see?
I'm begging you; can you see?
In the wreckage of shattered dreams,
We find ourselves lost in the debris,
Victims of a grand illusion,
Where reality is uncomfortable to see.
Terrified, yes, but unafraid to tell,
The tale of our time, the ringing knell
Of corruption and deceit,
We rise, we rise; we must rise above
In the name of truth, justice, and love.
O say, can you see?
              Can you see?
              Can you see?

I listened to an ignorant man speak today, A bias, racist tirade. My ears and heart stung with each syllable of hate he uttered. Is it not sad that in a day such as ours, that persons such as these still exist?

I was incensed at the mere possibility that this fool might think that I approved of such viewpoints and prejudices. But yet, I said nothing to him, I only listened to his goings on and empty justifications as to why he felt this way.

In what light then am I left in? My silence; did it fuel his racist diatribe, Or… was he a tool so that I might use it as inspiration and yet another insight to write this small but nevertheless important piece?

The tools that come to hand come in many different forms. Our inspirations, motivations come from those areas that most times we abhor. Our outrage fuels us to action, I often wonder after such experiences, if not for them then what would I write about?

Oh yes, the Golden field’s of Autumn evenings, the lover’s hand across my chest and brow. The kindness of my fellow man, and his sacrifice. These reflections of pure light.
However, there are moments when one must write of the darkness to rid themselves of it.

Do I justify the actions of an ignorant lout who speaks hate and distrust? Never, But I find myself at an impasse of conscience understanding, Is this hateful thing the vehicle through these words of its own destruction?

Perhaps an inflicted death blow wielded by a poor poet’s pen, to envision a time when thoughts such as these do not exist? What then will the poets write of, what then will be the inspiration, Is it a sin to write of these things? My fear of perpetuating the cause of this discourse weighs heavily upon me.

Is the poet, the writer, addicted to these heartaches and dysfunctions of his fellow man,
No I think not, We are witnesses to the coming of age of this world. In our lifetimes we will walk but a short mile in it; and while here I for one will share such things.

I will battle these questions in my own time and pray for peaceful tongues and cleansed hearts. Cleansed of prejudice and hate.

My marginal dysfunctions like a panther saunter gliding me out to peripheries edge.
We won't comment on loose banter, someone says.
My mind circles the time as the crow flies,
too disturbed for reentry, tweets the parakeet.

Phase out with allegiance to no one,
Phase back in with desperate facade.
I am blank, bleak and broken.

Well...that's just the token to get us back in ...the Dahlia wasn't always black to begin with you know, so many colors remain to absorb our sorrow.

So lost, forgotten and frail...
a ghastly scene so serene and forsaken.
Do not fret my fellow faire, we are ghosts of crimson lore, pathos to the people...morose...together on the edge of forever.

Interlacing fingers, we stand then walk the plank of insanity...who will hold my hand??

It’s All About Family

A rush to change into trousers and shirt
Discarding pajamas and morning quiet
And a half-eaten breakfast burrito -
Dear God, the relatives are here again

They never ‘phone; like mayflies they appear
First peeking through the windows, and only then
Ringing the doorbell, breathless with gossip
And detailing their medical dysfunctions

They seem to settle in for the summer
While one’s soul longs for a burrito lost

Quiet is all I need.
Desiring silence as the critics improvise
their own violins.
The philosophers tune their cello's.
The writers prepare the songs.
All the song says is the truth of where I stand in life.
Praying I'll be ok tomorrow.
How I stand in front of the cold audience
whom have the obligation of peaceful listening.
Many who choose to not open their ears to another sound
will only be alone playing their guitars.
I want the audience to be silent for me.
Learning as they whisper bewildered and stunned.
There are no strings attached.
How the sound of one's insecurity dysfunctions another's quality tune.
Know we are to hear but don't have to do a cover.
Instrumental choice,
one's vision and dream.
Hear me sing,
then tune your cello's, guitars, and violins.
We'll take a chance on our stances in life.
Hear each other and play together.
For in the slightest way,
our beliefs,
are different,
though the sound,
can blend.

Open your mind and think..
Don't allow our inherent dysfunctions to create disconnections
Cant you see?
Just like you and me
We are the victims of our Fathers; and so are they
The long line of social inculcation - when did this start?

For centuries we made believe that we are the greatest of all species
Unique, intelligent and special in its own way
We have forgotten
We have lost the idea that we are all humans
Sharing the same planet with everybody else

We have let greed stain our minds
Our wisdom - tainted with desires
Bernays knew it, ****** knew, Gandhi knew
Some used this advance to manipulate
and some to emancipate

So think!
Don't let your desire father your manipulation
Don't let your ignorance nurture your fear
Think...
That's what made you special
That's what made you human
You have a mind which may not understand everything - which it should be
But think. Explore

Our world is as broken as it is
But it will heal
I may not live to see it
But I have lived a life with the idea to change it

We are newly discovered obsidian daggers
Covered in obscene diamonds
We had a great time in our scabbards
Until your archaeologists came and found us
We are accents of rhythm
Extracted from a linguists’ worst nightmare
We are apparently humid if not quite human
Ruminating on our naked dysfunctions
We are content to being secret agents
Masters of arguments in surreptitious suspense
We are sweat and salt upon naked backs
That attract you like the golden hues of slumber
The ochre of the jungle is crisper than a hundred dollar bill
Life-force fueled by something new and leguminous
Quetzals bluer than a waterfall or the sky above an igloo
I chased you to the bottom of a cup of coffee
To overcome the fear of drowning in a melancholy mood

People prepare to make spiritual gifts thoughts the nether realm

Makes, breaks or cuddles their defiance of chivalry
On tithes, on prophecies administering the number 1
Brevity, 'Oh great machines spin divine allowing of and according the solution had a name, names ....namesake?!

Witness fortune, a material witness, the only, one of only, mutual balance of what can and what can't, senses hale  conditions...

I'm getting out... We're getting out! Our completion of Absu valiance...
Whatsoever compels this witness
  to the doors that provide

Is in the chaos and dysfunctions.... we know life itself to be very asinine.. our relationship debates what it means to achieve...

What decisive, incision, glorifying belittled foundation?...

Gives deathgrind and delivery for our nearly musical sought answers...
They fly, they carry in a flurry, they act mundane, yet truth
consequential no plausible sane deft debate & theory

Mutual cages mutual musics, make peace with those who hold you because all is about to occur as theory...
(Halt creation determine different destiny?! Dare the deviances, no infinity?!)

Creation, reverie... What now does a charade of one's self escape to... for a world, belittled, unseen, insult with incompetence...for prayer beset....?!

Perhaps the hands of passing thoughts kiss the pits of those who where dolt? Whose and then why? What... that alight only question... Why unclean?!

People prepare to make spiritual gifts...
- thoughts, the nether realm

Makes, breaks, or cuddles. Their defiance of chivalry
On tithes, on prophecies
Administering the number 1

Brevity, 'Oh' great machines spin divine
Allowing of and according
T he solution had a name,.. names, ....namesake?!

Witness fortune,
A material witness, the only, one of only,
mutual balance of what can and what can't,
   senses hale conditions...

I'm getting out...
We're getting out!
Our completion of Absu valiance...
Whatsoever compels this witness
  to the doors that provide...

Is in the chaos and dysfunctions....
We know life itself to be very asinine..
Our relationship debates what it means to achieve...

What decisive, incision.
Glorifying belittled foundation?...

Gives deathgrind & delivery- for our nearly musical sought answers...

They fly, they carry in a flurry, they act mundane,
Yet, truth consequential. No plausible sane, deft, debate & theory

Mutual cages, mutual musics
Make peace with, those, who hold you
because all is about to occur
   as theory...

(Halt creation ! Determine different destiny?! Dare the deviances!)
No infinity

Creation... reverie. What now does a charade of one's self escape to... For a world belittled
Unseen insult with incompetence...for prayers beset....?!

Perhaps the hands of passing thoughts- kiss the pits of those who where dolt?
Whose and then why?
What... that alight is the  only question...
Why unclean?!