Bastards

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“I can fuck any bitch I want”

Rattling off foul consonances and vowels

The terrible mantra boys

Chant off in the school yard

Like throwing mud on the third

Grade sweetheart

That makes their mother so ashamed

Ironic

They can say these things

Off the cuff

When the father

They’ve never met

Sits at a bar in Mexico

Says the exact same things

About their mothers.

We know how it feels to sit

On top of the world

And spit on the creatures below

Like birds on a telephone wire

Waiting for the one wearing

The worst day

To add insult to injury

Chicken Wrap Deconstructed

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Have you ever known how it feels

To have wings but not fly?

To graze

But never feed

See the sun through holes

In chain link fence

Feel the dirt

crumbling beneath

Talons

Imprisoned

Reconstructed hormones

Toxic dump in cities

The product has never

So closely resembled the consumer

 both birthed as a cash crop.

Black Survival: The Toupet’s Adversary

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Poor whiteys and their

Broken hearted mistresses

Their crowns chafe on their

Expanding skulls

Like a balloon

That we all pray will pop

Like a wall, racial profiling

like the terrorists lie within our walls

like we’re pointing the finger

at the wrong immigrant.

Future America

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Gurgling gum drop gunman

Mickey mouse mangled

Mutilated, maimed

Must have been Islam

American kids breathe, tamed

Only blissful misfits

Damned with the blame

gurneys so gullible

indolent infection

invest in the insects

Surviving the Cold

Father’s burden. A Poem by Coyote Poetry My father taught me to appreciate laughter and woman. Father’s burden (My father  was a Ojibwa/Mexican man in 1950 USA. He never allowed anyone …

Source: Happy Father’s day

Powerful poem about fatherhood. I would highly recommend a read!

 

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The men that built this country

Rosebuds at the end of each barfly

The cold

Granting the fitness

Necessary for survival

The many miles

Across this country

Were planted

Under brown feet

Under the feet of an immigration

A union of the five corners

To break the back of each of our fathers

And oppress indiscriminately

The frostbite is inherited

Brittle bones

Weather worn

Losing toes to frigid time

The nails

In the hands

Of our many martyrs

Look so much

 like

Icicles

To Choose Life

Times without number, taken in fluted reed Could be the dancer who Swore she would no, could not, hang up her shoes Neglect that spirit within who urged to move Still now, decades pass She has lost her edges, she is a filament of someone who Once danced in fury in all her youth and […]

via So quickly we forget the steps — thefeatheredsleep

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And he can’t tell if those are callouses at the end of her toes

Or bloated cherries, boils oozing puss

At the end of each of the fifths of her tapering feet.

He shames her from progress

As she grows strong

Towering over the people

The industries, infrastructures,

Sizing up sky scrapers,

 

He’s shrunk

Feels as a stain on the sidewalk

For the ego kept him strong

Termite infested crutches

Fire licking away at

The wood’s soft center

And he doesn’t have

A leg to stand on.

 

The footprints

Left across her malleable frame

We send Mother to the camps

Get her working in the lines,

Heaven knows if ma

Gets out of hand

Gaia will swallow us whole

 

They carve away

Beneath the surface

Rotting jack o lantern

Toss the slop in the trash

Her vital organs.

We’ve progressed

From butcher house cutting board

To scabbing through

demonstration

flanking Planned Parenthood

for the surrender

The only thing worse

To make the choice

“Life,”

Not death

Condemned

For loving the little she had

Push Pop War

 

Usa, War, Uncle Sam, Terror, Silhouette

Ginsberg by the sausages

Eyeing Mccarthy bag boy

At back, 3 point turned

Don’t meat, travel slowly

The curtain is iron

Transparent ammunition

I’ve always been able

To see straight through you

Close your eyes with shallow grieving

The caulking gingerbread blood

Faucets leak slowly

Apocapic ending whirl,

Annihilation transmitted to

A black polo

Cornstalk curdling

Digest different

Delay departure.

Ghosts in the tea party

Gum reduction surgery

And Arian dentures.

Detrite, Damascus

Finger nails

Like the escorts tail

The peacock’s feathers

To slit your wrists by.

Ruffled lipids

And the win ripples

Over sewage prairie

Stalks the stinking

Smiles

On the brown

Handled

Tending the field

Malingering Justice

We talk daily about stemming the spate of violence against women. We pay lip service about punishing offenders, but when is justice really served. When a judge sentences a privileged white man to six months in prison for brutally raping a woman what message is that sending to others like him? The Judge in the […]

via WHEN WILL WOMEN GET JUSTICE — MARVA SEATON BLOG

Thank you. There aren’t enough people talking about this. There aren’t enough people angry about this and it may feel that it doesn’t matter, but it’s another step, and womyn’s rights are getting somewhere.

 

Malingering Justice Picture

 

Brandished wildly

Desecrate by

The same dumping ground

You’re still, silent

But you’re howling

Ice cubes melt

From your face

Frigid, moist

Engulfed in tides

 He is

Submerged

Moving one with the

power, one with

Hate.

He thinks about what

It’d really be like

To dominate

He holds the devil

So close when he dances

I can’t tell man

From beast

To live in that strange,

Dark continent

Watching, waiting,

To sprinkle the sand

over her eyes

He’s embraced her dark corner.

He violated those dark corners

A dream of what

Could have been

Burning in the oil fire

Convention begets violation

From the law

To chivalry

To the gilded athletes,

Devouring, dissipating

Our children’s survival;

Our future

But it’s convenient

To stay in your

Burning home

When it’s cold

Outside.

And the judge doesn’t bat a lash

Sewing the stitches

Through the labia

Of woman’s humanity

And releasing

Mad, parched dogs,

After a night in the pen.

For the growl is heard

At all hours of the night

And her figure is ravished

Perforated teeth mark turf

As he chews on her

Under the guiding hand

Of “justice”