poetics and politics

Let your scars
Always remind you;
Although you will get hurt,
You will heal.


Scribble over the green of the rolling hills
in a grey graphite of adherence
I wear upon my face.

It’s not bright anymore,
and glances turn downwards
to chains rattling a sea shanty
that’s been retuned to an arm-round-back-patting-it’s-alright
melody you hear through bars.

Because it’s darkness again,
and you all see it
but grin it;
it’s barely knocking,
questions left in the rehearsal

the curtains close.

stand by your glasses steady and drink to your comrade’s eyes. here’s a toast to the dead already, and hurrah for the next to die
—  the revel, bartholomew dowling
Who knew that this armour I call my skin would leave me wounded, only because I let the bullets of my oppressor be stronger than my voice.
—  Use your voice. Stand with the oppressed, not the oppressor
Many people judge 
That’s what’s wrong with the world
It is human instinct to judge
And we know we shouldn’t
Yet we do
We can see a girl running on the side of the road
and in our heads a million thoughts, ideas about this girl
Who is probably just running
We can see someone with a slight stomach
and in our head we’ve got something to say
The same if they’re skinny
We always judge
and I can’t get you to stop
Neither can anyone else 
The sad thing is 
You can’t get yourself to stop
And yes I wrote this 
to try to excuse crappy people 
Because some like to judge out loud
Some like to tell people they can’t do this or that
Because of their higher rank in society
I tried to excuse them
Because if we hate the ones above us
will we hate the ones below us
will we hate our peers
in a time like this 
i isn’t everyone against this one person 
it doesn’t matter 
as long as we are all one force 
We Can Conquer The World
—  WE CAN ~ Alyssa Marie 


Politics reddit.
Politics definition.
Politics in the pub.
Politics Australia.

Politics of dancing.
Politics of Australia.
Politics of location.
Politics of fear.

Politics is the art of the possible.
Politics is power in action.
Politics is downstream from culture.
Politics is a dirty game.

Politics isn’t Sale of the Century.
Politics isn’t about policy.
Politics isn’t everything.
Politics is not a banana.

Politics will take an interest in you.
Politics will turn on you.
Politics will eventually be replaced by imagery.
Politics will seal fate of Greece.

Politics won’t take an interest in you.

If I have learned anything in life, it’s that you can’t restructure yourself to fit other people’s spaces. What I mean is that, if some of us are square and some of us are round, don’t break yourself down when your square hole can’t be made whole by a circle peg. Different shapes might fit us, but gaps are natural. Each relationship is meant to fulfill us in a different way.
—  The Geometry of Friends, Lovers and Soul Mates.
Are the United States not cultish?
We exclude foreigners
By making the process of immigration
Near impossible, and to become a citizen
Is even more difficult,
As though anyone from a foreign land
Must have foreign ideas
And should not be trusted to vote.
Do they not live here, too?
Is America not a place where all citizens
Must abide by the law
And must not speak out
For fear of being shot at a protest
Or being singled out
As a threat to the nation?
Is our freedom of speech not limited
To political correctness,
Which is only correct
By our own standards?
Jury duty has become a church,
A place where the judge
And lawyers preach
And the jurors must worship the law,
No matter how outdated,
Because it is the word
Of the government, our gods.
We pay taxes like a sacrifice to the gods,
And the favor is never returned.
We press our doctrine
Onto other countries
In hopes that it will spread like disease
And infect the whole world
As if it would somehow
Make us all immune
To future problems,
But disease cannot spread
Without causing harm.
Although most of us have lost our faith,
We are too zealous to see
That faith cannot be restored
By the same system that took it away.
She can’t look at the stars the same way anymore, for all she remembers is his eyes. She can’t make a cup of coffee without serving it the way he always loved. She isn’t able to finish books anymore, because they don’t always have happy endings. She can’t wear her favorite perfume anymore because it only reminds her of his smile appearing when he smelt it on her. Cooking dinner doesn’t have the same good feeling it used to. There are no more words she can write without somehow bringing it back to him. She can’t say “I love you” to anyone, because she never really knows if they love her back.
—  Three Words to Ruin your Life paxadisee

I’m towering -
but my insignificance
just has further to fall

to land smaller
than the scuttling figures
I watch beyond.

My strings are tight, tied
to my hands
to my throat,
seconds tick as threads
from the fraying rope and
I’m just a slowing hum
in the screaming wind.

Cut my framework
I’ll bonelessly decline -
lost to a consciousness
that was never mine.