Legacy of a whisper

Barely heard
Sound so soft,
from all the mistreatment it endured.

It is made of stuff not fully understood but the message it relays defies the loudness of falsehood.

We are all vomiting on force fed dogma and
propaganda du jour while it is
Beaten and bound
tortured and blasted,
mocked and stabbed to bleed out while hung out to dry,
muffled with pillows
thrown from windows and cars, trapped in dungeons and attics. Wrapped in chains and weights thrown to the bottom of a bottomless lake.

Swallowing the sea;
being consumed almost entirely.
It cannot be kept down
for it floats to the top and
as those lips surface
what wonders they reveal
even in a whisper
the truth is what heals.

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don’t violate me with pretense

You stroke my hair
and tell me of vulnerabilities and we share
the within, outside the very next day you cut me up to all your friends.

Churches with front doors wide open in blinding brightness leads
to the back door shrouded in despair, through it, victims leave unseen

Momma government takes care of me when I’m in need or so it seems
but when I call on you, I’m forced to run the gulag to get the aid you promised me

Cover your scars your wrinkles and even cellulite
You are what you are even in broad daylight

I am pained, flawed and mentally unsure but with a sense of mirth
What are you? pomp and circumstance or true! What’s it worth?

I’M AN UNGA BUNGA GIRL

I ‘ve a primitive’s outlook

Fire for warmth

Food for hunger

Love for comfort

Sex for pleasure and procreation

I’m in awe of the world that I don’t understand

I say unga bunga to the crazy masses with all the answers

They’re too smart to understand how little they know

Cycling life with an expectant eye

Idle time is not so insane

Reveling in the vastness

Truth needs an open plain