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.

Mystique.

I flicker like fluorescent lights

when you feel more right 

than rainy november nights
A few unforgettable sighs 
and I caught on fire—

like frost made hot on an open flame

I admire your intrigue, 
float higher; unfatigued. 
I aspire, you succeed. 
Make me feel weak,

between the knees 
fom your mystique, 

that soothes me, 
it's so unique. 

This technique unseen before by me, 
sets me on fire, like a gas leak. 
It douses me with desire, like I am antique, 
and sends me reeling as I retreat
into a rhythmic release immortalized 
by an elite orchestra of my own adoration, obscene. 

I perceive you as the precipice, 

the karmic retribulated catalyst 

of my lifetime's greatest hits. 
I'd wreak havoc on the most chaotic 
if it would win me a single kiss 
from those lips, that leave my soul wet. 

Perspiring, patting prudishly at the dew 
that drowns me in the essence of you, 
as beads of citrus, and luna rossa 

carbon-scented fragrant sweat pepper my neck
but just as I'm about to man the decks, I stop and catch sight of my reflection, flushed and made more red than scarlet letters. 

So I slyly smile; 
then let out a luxuriating breath. 
I dont know how you do it 
but suddenly, I'm 16 again, 
I feel so fresh.
Like I've got brand new insides, 
it's cleansed my chest. 

Whatever it is, I know 
that you and me could rise above the rest, become better than our best, 
conquer the globe from east to west, 
but only if you promise to never 

let us go to bed upset.

Unsmoked Meat.

How many times can I fall 
for a different version of the
same mistake? 
I trip & I tumble,
then I stumble, 
my self-worth away.
What can I do to feel brand new,
revive the smile on my face?
I've been broken down before,
but this can't endure another day.
I'm free-falling, and failing to be free.
I am living life inside a bubble,
and I'm in trouble, but I stay humble,
to save myself from the insane.
See, I've been down some streets 
that seek to steal the shine right
from these big-sad brown eyes;
conquered all my monsters,
defeated demons, and danced 
with dragons, darling—
I've dared the darkness to be brave. 
Cracked, and I crawled, in combat,
collected every single crown, 
to claim the war in my own name.
Correct if you think I commanded
mountains, oceans, seas, and lakes.
I caught the criminals before their crime,
ambushed the armies at their gates.
Yet still, somehow, I seem to stack 
my odds against the victory, the 
sweetness of success.
Slipping away, I stumble, 
singing sirens to their deaths;
so stubbornly, I sacrifice my 
own need for luxury,
to secure a stranger's desire
to dress to impress.
Each opportunity to raise my spirits,
seems to be a chance I take to rise,
to raise the securities of someone else.
A sequence of silly me, the saint who 
stains his own soul for the salvation of 
society.
I am not their goal, 
their toll is not with me.
Unable to make them whole, 
I am not any more or less unholy. 
So although this is a series of
the same old same, stuck in a loop 
that's on repeat, it seems to self-identify 
in different ways, 
it's appearance may change 
but it plays an old familiar. ancient game.  
Unless I learn the lesson, 
there will never be a new subject, 
sentenced to suffer stuck, like supper,
in some spider's web. 
Smoking I smoke and I
I'm smoking I smoke and 
I'm smoking I smoke 
I'm smoking to stay sane.
Puff and I puff and I'm 
puffing I puff I'm puffing
I'll huff and I'll puff and 
I'll blow the house away.
Foggy, 
it's dark
and it's gloomy, 
this haze that is looming 
leads to another cloudy day.
I weave, 
and
I wave, and 
I rant 
and I rave, 
I'm riding out 
this wave.
Slipping, 
I slide, 
I trip, 
I fall 
into the hungry mouth 
of an open grave.
And if I recall correctly, 
I crawled directly 
into this cave.
I used to have it all, 
the money, cash, and coins t
that I could crave.
But that was before I learned 
to burn, to bend, to break 
in order to be brave.