Original Works · poetry · writing

Just So History Knows Where I Stand…

I'm really pissed I gotta say this
I'm really pissed people are making this an actual debate

I'm really pissed they try to argue the sides are the same
And I'm really pissed people keep saying, "choose love, not hate"

Love can be violent, love can be loud
Love can be angry and unyielding

Love is punching nazis and tearing down statues
Because love is more than a feeling

Love is not 'one and done'
Love is action, love is a choice

Love is not protecting those who wish to annihilate me
Love is not sacrificing my life and safety, to give them a voice

Nazis are bad, this is comically, heartbreakingly simple.
Nazis should not be given a platform, this should not be a scary stance to admit!

Just so history knows where I stand…
Fuck all of this nazi, white supremacist bullsh*t

poetry · writing

I had a locket

A locket covered in swirls and daisies
A locket of rose gold and silver
Delicate and thin like frost on a flower’s petal

When I open it, there are no pictures of loved ones
No keepsakes, mementos, or curiosities

It does not sing
Or hum
Or play any tune

When I open it, light dances before my eyes
When I open it, a ballet of light is presented before me
Filling an entire room

It does not go on forever
though I wish it would

It does not take me with it
though I wish it would

I want to go where the light sleeps
I wish to live inside the locket
and see what worlds exist when the locket closes

poetry · writing

Have you found the door yet?

Have you walked through to the realm of improbabilities?
Have you drank tea with the sister of the marshal of the kitten parade?
Have you seen the valley of green lavender filled to the brim with song and sweetness?
Have you seen the honeysuckle maidens as they unfurl their sheets and sit upon the golden waves?

It is close.
You may travel by night or day.

At night, the sparkling stardust will dance before you in greeting as you walk through the door, and step upon the rolling hills.
At day, the sun and moon will hold hands and bow before you and lead you to the alchemist’s garden.

In her garden there is no green lavender. Only roses the color of a baby dragon’s fire.
She snips and grinds the thorns into a powder which turns river water into sweet wine.
If you collect the fallen petals and feed them to a dragon hatchling, the hatchling will belch up rubies and sapphires.

Have you found the door?

The alchemist is waiting and she has prepared wheat crackers and lemon cream for tea.
The alchemist is waiting for you to bring her a new basket.
Woven by the hands of a wood nymph after a long nap. They do better work when well rested.
She will fill the basket with roses and discarded dragon hatchling eggshells.

In time, fire stones will be made.
In time, she will teach you all she knows.

Have you found the door yet?

Walk through. The alchemist is are waiting.
Walk through. You have much to do.
Walk through.