Archive for the ‘art’ Category


Posted: November 2, 2015 in art, poetry, writing
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I’m tired of gender.
I’m tired of being reluctantly called ma’am by strangers.
I’m tired of people being taken aback when they meet me in person
after hearing my “feminine” voice on the phone.
I’m tired of guys talking over me and then thinking me rude
when I refuse to yield to it.
I’m tired of friends being confused when they figure out I wear
“men’s” cologne and “men’s” shirts and shoes.
I’m tired of the pink tax.
I’m tired of the media pushing machismo onto men
while infantalizing women.
I’m tired of being the “girl” that guys can “really open up to”
because I’m “not going to judge them like the guys would”
I’m tired of being privy to deep, dark secrets
concerning other people’s gender identities and sexual orientations,
not because it is not flattering to be so trusted,
but because it is so overwhelmingly sad
that we live in a world where people have to feel afraid of being who they are.
We live in a world where gender is a poison
shoved down the throats of children from birth.
The concept is weaponized and used as justification
for abuse, for abandonment, for assault… For murder.

I am not tired of naturally-occurring gender,
but of the pain that comes with
forcefeeding narrow archetypes to diverse masses.


Sad haiku

Posted: August 29, 2015 in art, poetry, writing
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I’m a free spirit;
Don’t belong to anyone.
I don’t think I can.

Strangers don’t approach me in bars,
No one questions me being into cars
And I don’t get harassed on the street.
I don’t get called “ma’am” nearly as much,
And I don’t have to do much convincing my baggers that I can carry my groceries out by myself.
As if longer hair somehow made me weaker.
But didn’t it?
The extra effort just 6 more inches created,
I now designate for putting myself in a good state of mind.
I no longer get heat rash over my ears,
And I look like I’ve got the right number of years under my belt;
No longer do I appear to be underage.
I walk taller because I have no curtain of protein strands to hide behind,
And I don’t mind the lack of those inclined to talk to me;
I find those who are to be more worthwhile.
More likely to smile genuinely rather than out of perceived obligation.
Had I done it sooner, it might have saved me the trouble of dealing with shallow, judgemental people.
And I might have felt more secure in myself sooner.


Posted: July 7, 2015 in art, poetry, writing
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You find me when I am weakest;
Synced synapses screaming for a cease-fire.
Always “Hey”, always like it’s nothing.
Always when you instinctively know I could use a stiff drink and a night in heels,
Followed by my heels dug into the mattress,
Or my hands on a headboard,
(although, who the hell uses a headboard while giving or getting head?)
You know I am dead-bored
With all these sophomoric,  2-dimensional lives lacking spinal cords.
Even continents away, your manic states indicate when I feel desolate.

And no one calls me “doll” anymore,
Certainly not in the same breath as calling me a “broad”.

As bad as it ever was, it was also that good.

At one time.

Before I could speak, the decision was made
That I would be trained to believe in god.
Their god.
A god whose bestseller book justified slavery, incest, male dominance and mutilation.
The god described as “love”, “savior”, “king”, “father”
“All-knowing”, “all-loving” while all are told he is to be feared.
I was raised to believe that a single lifetime of wrongdoing
Was righteously met with an eternity of torture.
But their god is “loving.”
I was recruited to a cause only days after my birth without my consent.
I was not given a choice.
It was washed away with holy water.


Posted: July 3, 2015 in art, poetry, writing
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The worst ghosts were once the best people.
They leave and the feelings haunt you.

Did you think I’d change enough, soon enough
To become worthwhile?
I was, once; before I was me.
I regret that it wasn’t for you.
Now I can’t trust those I love
And I can’t love those I trust;
The cute, boring love
Inevitably becomes a hollowed, smiling corpse.

                   ….Fucking nothing…
….Nothing good lasts.


Posted: June 5, 2015 in art, poetry, writing
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All I am is avoidance;
Ignoring, yet not ignorant.
Some lucky charm with
A wingspan longer than my patience,
A murmur in my heart,
Long lost to the blue,
Sharkteeth so far below,
Yet imminent.


Posted: April 12, 2015 in art, atheism, poetry, religion, writing

Don’t say you’ll pray for me.
Do you know how repulsive the act
Of you talking to your god on my behalf is?
I. Don’t. Believe.
And There is no comeback
Nearly insulting enough
Under the guise of thoughtfulness
That I could spit back at you.

A for Abnormal
A for Amoral
A for Assertive
A for Atheist.

Arkansas State Constitution Article 19, Section 1
(Section one, because this was of the utmost importance):
“No person who denies the being of a God shall hold any office in the civil departments of this state, nor be competent to testify as a witness in any court.”

I can’t hold office
And I’m not “competent” to testify
Because I am unconvinced
By books and preachers.
Stripped of my rights
Because I do not believe in a god.

It’s a night for Elton John, Three Dog Night and a glass of water.
No blue pills required. 
When wondering turns to knowing, evolves to certainty,
and the skewed is laid out in cocaine-style lines
instead of jumbled like spaghetti noodles,
this. is. peace. 
A change of scenery leads to serenity,
where I am free to think any way that occurs to me.

My glass is neither half full nor half empty;
it contains the often forgotten air as well. 
To be taken so for granted,
to be overlooked and abused like air,
is to be what lovers claim “you are my air”.
Do not treat me like you treat it. 
Neither, like water, will I let you poison me, heat me, boil me. 
I. am. fire.
Consume. Produce. Heat. Light. 
Fueled at others’ expense. 

I make tracks in the earth, shallow and quick
connected to the flow of life, with a fast heart and pounding feet.
I am soft to the touch, difficult to catch.
Easily manipulated when in terror, struggling against the snares,
to bound free over earth, below sky
loving, nurturing, comforting, inquiring, listening
Oh, to keep going and going and going…
I. am. rabbit. 
Lucky feet and wild eyes.
Burrows in the earth when hiding, sleeping, Safe.