Shepard

I have lived a thousand lives
none of which were mine
I have shepherd many flocks
and been left by roadside
I have watched them come
and I have watched them go
speaking as they got the lessons
but never do they know.
I have lived a thousand lives
none of which were mine
guiding those who might have grown
if they had thought to thrive
but I know only of their choices
when they chose to go
I have lived a thousand lives
but never have I known
the kindness of mine own self
the emptiness I’ve sown.

 

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Ode to bisexuals

Ode to bisexuals
who are never harmed
by stereotypes
or jokes taken too far.
To the ones
who don’t notice the hate
in your stare
for not noticing
the disdain in the air.
Ode to bisexuals
the picky and proud
to the ones who play stereotypes
and the ones who aren’t bound.
Ode to bisexuals
who don’t get harassed
though what you’ve been through
should be defined as that.
Ode to bisexuals
the erased and abused
to all of those who
have been beaten and used.
To the ones the community
just up and forgot
unless they remember to fling
hate at our lot.
To the ones who have loved, lived
and have thrived.
To the ones who
didn’t make it out alive.
Ode to bisexuals
who believe in themselves
no matter what the rest say
you know you’re valid as well
never forget that your stories matter.
Ode to bisexuals
and always remember:
you aren’t gay enough-
you don’t even have to try,
no passing privilege-
you are just bi, bi, bi.

I wore pants to church

I remember the days
when I had to wear a skirt to pray
those jumpers my dismay
but I wore them to school anyway.
I remember the days
confused by what I saw
not even four foot tall
not sold on what I was taught
one day I just woke up
saw it for what it was
and said I’d had enough.
I remember the day
I wore pants to pray
the nuns stopped me in my tracks
but I never once looked back
told them to call my parents
my mother on their side-the merits
of properly dressed females
but my father stood by my details
told him of my discomfort
that I refused injustice
that I would pray in pants
and he told them again my stance.
I remember the days
that I knelt down to pray
God on my shoulder always leading the way.
I remember the days-
Catholic memories
of standing up to nuns
and living comfortably.
I remember the days
only a little girl at play
when I changed the system
never needing permission
just God’s little vixen.

American Benefits

I don’t have a drug problem
I don’t have a baby
what I have are bills to pay
with no assistance to save me.
I pay into benefits
they don’t offer me anyway.
I am not a junkie or a single mom
if I were today most my problems would be gone
if I came illegally or was a refugee
the government would provide me
money to get onto my feet
but I have lived a good life
I’ve been responsible
I gave my life to social work
but could be without a home
I have worked my whole to make it comfortable
I have given up my mind
and now I’m on my own.
Never thought my country
would turn out not to be my home
a place where all my labor
turns out to be on loan
for someone very different
to make it all their own.
No, I have lived a good life
but now I’m on my knees
there is nothing left in a country
filled with thieves
we protect all others
leaving good citizens to bleed.

Understand this

I need, I need, I need
to get across this theme
of everything we breed
encases something sinister.
That nothing is as pure
as my truth and word
all these lived experiences
shed light on these entanglements
the dark web of my true regret-
the message clear
you’re malcontent.
I need, I need, I need
to make you truly see
that though our plates may seem
equal in entirety-
that we are all the same-
you can’t make that claim
you just play their game.
I am the one in need-
give me your understanding
that we are not equals
for I’m the realest victim of you all.

 

Butterflies

We all want to be
beautiful and sad
tragic little butterflies
driven quite mad.

Flying cross the boulevard
floating like a dream
desperate imitations
of what we cannot be.

Everybody wants to be a superstar
show the world how special
that they really are
everybody wants to be
beautiful and sad
depression and anxiety
the best accessory ever had.

We all want to be
beautiful and sad
tragic little butterflies
driven quite mad.

Everybody wants to be
Lana Del or Halsey
all the pretty stories but know
nothing of true suffering.

Everybody wants to be someone else
we all pretend we’re butterflies
while killing ourselves.

story of me

Tell of all my longings
my love and my undoing.
Tell of all my failures
my rise within this ruin
never speak of roses
or of happy endings
seek to end this cycle of
ever after pretending.
Tell of all my glory and
how I lost my head-the story
never over
just retellings in my stead.
Tell of all my memories with your
voice and then
tell of all my longings-the delusions
in my head
tell me that I’m crazy
while I forget again-
tell of all my longings and all that is
my bed but never forget the ending
happier now than then.

Save the cheerleader

Save the women!
Save the world!
We must protect our little girls
they are weak and prone to failure
due to tears and chauvinist agenda.
We must pass more legalisation
to keep them from degradation.
They are weak and prone to failure
due to physical differences
and biological imperatives,
but we fucked up
with all these fables
we waged war by making ourselves
incapable-women need more legalisation
to ensure our reparations
this is not about equality
women fight for supremacy
but like a woman we play the sheep
Oh please big strong man come save me!
Save the women
destroy the world
please stop stealing empowered girls
let them grow up big and strong
can we undo
what feminist got wrong?

He’s already dead, he’s already dead…

Walk out
turn around
cry
those goddamn tears
right now.
Never let a word
in edge wise
just keep repeating
the verse-those big lies.
Rip the paper
turn the flavor
change your name
or lose the favor.
Everybody taste the same
when you bleed
the thinking brain
change the world
by inbreeding
we lost soul
and
critical meaning.

Victimhood

I don’t need your victimhood
I don’t need your help
I have waged my own way
while you played with yourself.
Parade about equality
when all you want is
everything;
the power, the man, the wedding ring-
life that’s fair to femininity-
while you destroy
the enemy?
I don’t need your victims tale
I don’t need your progress
I have waged a war in kind
to end the world you promised
protest all you want
but never do define
you are exactly
the very stereotypes
you mime.
Broken little girls
all you do is whine-
imagine all the trauma,
nightmares are your bribe,
scream until you’re crying
then say it’s all their fault
but never actually fight for change
just hold another woman’s march.