Twofer Tuesday Poetry: To Be Alone & When Does the Book Burning Start?

To Be Alone

Where do you go,
When you want to
Hide from the world,
And be alone?
How can you escape,
But not run away?
How do you live the dream?
Surrounded by nightmares?
Where do you go,
To be alone?

When Does the Book Burning Start?

Are we the people
In this democracy
Means nothing
To those in power
Is reserved for the elite
Unauthorized for the poor
Defies society
And confuses the entitled
Is neither live nor dead
Or doesn’t exist
Has no place in the Union
Or the new world order
Would prove the elite wrong
And destroy the fake news
Is a man who denies freedom
To those he claims to govern
Are those who let this happen
When does the book burning start?

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.

Twofer Tuesday Poetry: Double Standards & No More

Double Standards

I stopped making sexual jokes
Long ago to avoid other’s anger,
And to act more appropriate.
No one gets upset
When women make sexual jokes.
If I say anything about them
Being inappropriate,
They call me a prude.
It’s best if I never say anything.

No More

We have a disease
In our world – 
An epidemic,
A crisis,
A virus
That needs to be

What is it?

Men – 
The vulgar men
The selfish men
The insecure men
The predator men
And the behavior
They encourage

It takes a
We all
Must work
To teach
Our youth
To avoid
This behavior

No more – 
Creepy stares
Crude comments
No more – 
Groping or touching
Without consent
Without permission
No more – 

Respect – 
Consent – 
It’s okay to say
No – 
We must teach
Our youth
Stop – 

Kill the disease

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.

Twofer Tuesday Poetry: Negative Thoughts & Robot Steve

Negative Thoughts

I still have days where everything feels wrong

I lost my place in the world

I have no purpose

No one would notice if I disappeared

I’m invisible to everyone

I’ve made no significant impact in the world or in anyone’s life

No one cares what I think or feel

I should just give up because nothing matters

And then The Woman sends me a message

All those thoughts vanish

Robot Steve

A young mech came to my store
Asking for a copy of Oiled Gears Magazine

“You gotta have three upgrades to buy that.”

“Come on Steve. My last upgrade is in the mail.
I’m practically old enough.”

I scanned his serial number

“One upgrade required.
Come back next week, Wallace.”

I think the humans called that adolescence

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.