Tuesday, January 7, 2020

Suicide Poem

By Michelle Tea

all of my friends have such complete control
over their lives. they can kill themselves
any time they want to. right now
laurie can jump out my open window
or she can get up and go to the bathroom.
erich can swallow cleanser. peter
can hang himself. another can take her
new gun and tilt it into her mouth's
wet hollow. the many with their sharp
things can just keep going. they could
tear a vein and they'd know exactly
what they were doing, having taught
themselves they body as sure and any surgeon.
if they want it they can have it.
they know it and they keep themselves
alive, all by themselves.
it seems so huge. it seems impossible.
it seems like more of them would be gone.
all things considered i think i will
just stay quiet and let them wear
their dysfunctions like feather boas.

Monday, January 6, 2020


By Tina Isom-Carey

I’ve come too far for you not to respect
my scars. 

Pages left unturned happiness passed up
because lessons never learned.

I go back to the same mistakes repeatedly,
conceitedly thinking I will succeed.

You see, 

I come come a bloodline of

I will never give up on humanity no matter
what it throws at me, I wear my scars
with pride, it reminds me of what I have

to see them is what keeps me alive.

 Tina Isom-Carey is a personal chef and a long-time writer and love of poetry. She spent her childhood in Knoxville, Tennessee, and went to high school in San Diego, California. She became a permanent resident of Virginia Beach, Virginia in the early 90’s.

Friday, January 3, 2020


(After Khalil Gibran)
By Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Pity the nation whose people are sheep
And whose shepherds mislead them
Pity the nation whose leaders are liars
Whose sages are silenced
And whose bigots haunt the airwaves
Pity the nation that raises not its voice
Except to praise conquerers
And acclaim the bully as hero
And aims to rule the world
By force and by torture
Pity the nation that knows
No other language but its own
And no other culture but its own
Pity the nation whose breath is money
And sleeps the sleep of the too well fed
Pity the nation oh pity the people
who allow their rights to erode
and their freedoms to be washed away
My country, tears of thee
Sweet land of liberty!