Sweetly

I close the windows
against the rising sun
and the heat invades the room.
It’s stifling and muggy,
clothes stick to my body,
like flies into honey.
I wish hope could
fetch the same stickiness
and cling,
hard and fast,
with a warmth
that is messy
and sweet.

I still seek
a father.
No matter how far
the hills have grown,
and how desolate
the past appears,
there is so much to climb,
without hope,
without support.

You do not know,
how age creeps up
on the alone,
if i could be
a father,
i would have known
how i should have been
loved.

But there is no honey
to call the flies to,
just a rising sun
that beats down the hills.
Sweetly.

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Rise

I have stopped understanding.
I will not sacrifice Right.
I will stand up for myself,
Even if I lose the fight.

Don’t expect me to bow down,
Or think on the larger cause;
Yet I am not violent;
That is not one of my flaws:

But I stand up against those
Who don’t get my Right to Live,
I am not one to forget,
If you ask me to forgive.

I am not understanding:
I reject any decree
That will not let you love
Someone different, like me.

I know who I was, and am,
I’ve every right to be!
For my right to love and live
I will rise up willingly.

Before You Know It

When the world is going bat-shit crazy
and neo-nazis hurl hate,
governments turn religion into missions
and everyone misplaces faith,

the centre goes spinning
and, all around it, fire unfurls,
peripheries start to burn
in the hands of bigots and churls,

stand aside and think of love,
or the idea of it, and its chance
at being the winner at this war,
Or even a random, shitty dance;

and you look at what gadgets spin –
dyslexia the new face of the game –
and kinda hope that, if love exists,
he will wake and remember your name;

but you get caught in your own bias
and cast aspersions for your right;
and, before you know it, you hate, too,
and become a part of the fire and fight.

So, on you go, eddying and gaming,
blasting the AIs, and earning loot,
and, before you know it, the love you sought
is now some sex that is moot.