Barkat.

Deliberate deeds lead to impeccable speech, where truth liberates the good, and loathes dishonesty.

A life lived with integrity, is Eden's indemnity, insurance we end this life, for blessings, eternally.

American Horror Story.

When six men can simplify six hundred tribes, 

seemingly erasing their sacred spaces, 

then covering their resilient red skin 

with clown masks, and whitewashed faces, 

it becomes quite evident that 

their lives were deemed irrelevant. 

This particular element of European settlement was in fact, rather malevolent. 

This bedevilment became the brick and mortar building blocks that laid the foundation for the extermination 

of indigeneous ancestral traces, 

eliminating their authenticity, 

and history, in order to eradicate

 them from a stolen nation. 

A genocide created by gunpowder treason, 

an extinction over time that lacked humanity, let alone any logic or reason. 

From 18 million brave—

belittled and enslaved to pave 

the bloodsoaked reserves that exist today, with less than one-third of 

their original clique laughed away an⁹d left to decay on some heroic highway. 

Statistics this stark should send 

shockwaves across this stolen nation, 

but instead are met with a silence 

that's as stifling as strategic strangulation. 
It's suffocating.

AND my soul cries for the lost tribes 

of a lawless station, 

invaded by a species deluded by 

their imagination of having invented emancipation.  

And yet, they still refuse to acknowledge allegations about sisters, and mothers, otherwise known as their missing and murdered Indigenous relations.  

As though mass graves beneath 

Catholic enclaves were some kind of coronation, and I'm not saying anything 

aside from stating that 

this conversation is long overdue.  

It's about time we either flipped the script, and fixed this broken system, 

or changed their same old 

divide and conquer, fear-mongering corporately-scripted station.

BP.

I need to be vaccinated,
immunized from those green eyes;
pools of jade, that pull me under,
they reel me in, then let me sink. 
Why do I desire drowning?
Like a bird made flightless from oil.
Feathers drenched and dripping tar,
all because I broke my own protocol.
An oil spill like no other, leaking out
as far as icy Arctic shores.
You dyed the sea black—
just like my heart is charred.
Perhaps no prisoner before me
ever dared to protest,
demanding justice,
or even just respect.
Your unyielding innocence
only leaves more room for neglect.
This is a disaster, like no other before it, causing mass endangerment
to marine animals,
mankind,
and ultimately,
all life on this planet.
Until you learn to leave on time,
no love like mine will ever stay;
even if your smile brightens
my darkest days.
This is the all-too-familiar recipe
for another bad romance,
so I'll take this chance to leave,
and be the one who got away.