Poetry
This is the general category of fuckery that goes on and on and doesn’t seem interested in stopping.
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It’s all a big circus
An attempt to grasp your attention away from the actual problems
Musk and his X games bot welcoming cesspool
I wonder what we missed in the meantime
I wish I could unravel the mess that is this world
Hoarding money shouldn’t be a qualification
It should be a disqualification
Excuse me I haven’t had my nicotine I don’t know how coherent I am
Just that we think hoarding things is a disqualification
But money, is a thing, no?
It may be a fictitious thing, but a thing it is
Oppa Gangnam style
What a time for this song
Some time later…
Speaking of colossal distractions
I just wonder how much I’ve missed being distracted
Humans? Or Magpies?
I’m definitely part bird with my collections of things
I sure hope I can pay attention long enough to understand this chaos
No comments on -
People ask why I don’t ask the bus driver to kneel the bus
It’s the same reason I don’t ask for a seat even no one moves in the disability seating
The same reason I don’t correct people who misgender me
I don’t feel worthy
If the bus driver didn’t kneel the bus they must think I don’t need it and since I’m worthless I don’t deserve to ask
If they didn’t move I don’t deserve the seat
If they got my pronouns wrong I’ve done something wrong to deserve it
I have no self worth
No one ever taught me I was worth anything
So why would I think it?
When I was a child all I was good for was passing school
And now I’m an adult and all I’m worth
Is nothing
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People treat things like they only go one of two ways, or they’re a spectrum like colour,
But to me things like sexuality and gender are like space,
There are so many directions to go in,
You don’t even really know what direction you’re going in
And everyone is seeing something completely different.
Our life circumstances place us in different places in space,
We see what can be seen,
We experience it differently than everyone else
Transphobes try to do that thing
“Define a woman”
And the truth of the matter is you cannot
Every woman is different, though similarities in experience arise
But I do know every cis woman probably doesn’t feel unfit in their bodies(yes feelings about weight and beauty are different)
The trans/sexuality experience is like being left handed
When I try to use my right I feel like I’m using this alien instrument
I can force myself to use my right hand, but nothing comes out right, it feels like I’m not really the one writing, or pouring, or doing
I wonder how often right handed people think about left handed people?
I’m reminded daily that my handedness is not what’s expected.
Then again there’s pretty much nothing about me that’s expected
ま～とにかく
Explore your corner of space and be yourself
There are people out here who can’t imagine anything but what they’ve seen
And then there are those of us that have seen such magnificence in space that we know, unequivocally, that we cannot have seen it all.
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What change, big or small, would you like your blog to make in the world?
We live in an interesting time, where even the poor have a pen
And the ink comes free as text
Giving the opportunity for those who never told their stories to do so
I mean, look at me,
Non-binary, disabled, poor
Three reasons I should not have a pen
Unique in its existence, this time
I was told to write my story before I died
Call it premonition, call it the cries of a sick brain
I didn’t die (Yay me?)
I’m still a little crazy all the time
But I don’t try to hide it here
If someone could find this place,
See the pain of chronic illness, living with disability, and living in poverty
Learn that poverty and disability are not a character reference
Maybe they can’t see past the gender fuckery and anti-capitalism
But I imagine my work being posthumously discovered
Being a trove of thousands that anyone can find something to relate to
A tale of human life, pain, joy, woes, loves
It’s kind of like a love song
A love song of life
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We were fire
Grappling with the terror of eternity
And the sadness of impermanance.
Do I want truly to exist forever?
Do I want to find out what forever is?
But I don’t want to come to an ending either
Was I beautiful?
As a young thing, never fearing the end?
Flying through life by the skin of my teeth
How it would have been to last forever a youth
I cling to the yesterday afraid it will fade away to nothing
Am I beautiful now?
Broken, bruised, battered
Hopeless
Was my hope beautiful?
Did I live my younger years to the best?
Once an adult the terror of life ending pinned itself to me
Every prick a reminder that it’s coming
Death I have such mixed feelings for you
I don’t know if you have any control over the when and the how
Maybe you’re just a catcher of souls
But I wish you could tell me
Tell me my expiration date
Without telling me it’s before I’m 50
So afraid
Death come cover me
May I go gently into the flame
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The flag has become a symbol of hate
When I see people flying it I wonder just how much hate they have
Trying so desperately to bring us all back to Nazi Germany
Trans women aren’t mentioned much, even though they were experimented on
The world called them gay and erased them from history
They want everything to go back
Like we weren’t here the entire time
It makes me wary, seeing the flag now
Unless it’s a business and I wish they wouldn’t
I wish they wouldn’t
Not much of a country to celebrate
Rising poverty
Ultra inflation
Crumbling medical system
Housing crisis
Oh and then that little problem of racism and genocide of indigenous peoples
Just a little problem mind you
If it wasn’t obvious that was sarcasm
See their suffering is weaved into our own and if the system was fixed for them it would be fixed for us too
But people don’t see that
Us versus them
Which is a colonial thought process in and of itself but I digress
Maybe I just see the flag how they do now
Elucidating Questions 