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TARBH UISGE Dehorned by a Fearless Girl Holding a power Pose Hands on Hips Save more than ships And redistribute it Back to the Ghosts of the machine Back to the Fists of We the People Back to the fold All WILL behold The Will Of an illness Which strips us Naked Of all but conscience Lying bare With the Fleece of countless sheep In Beds of ignorance No more. We count them in our minds One or a Million? Numbers climb As we clamber D O W N Dominos fall The more They charge The more Will fall As we clamor For we...need air...and will to breathe! We | Can't | Just | Leave | All | That | We | Know This is our home Until we're dumped Into the sea O' Captain! My Captain! Ghosts of the past Voices of Reason We the People We stand tall Until the terracotta crumbles Will we see or will we fail? Comments are closed.
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DEAR READER
Welcome to my literature, music, and visual poetry project. My blog represents a method for deciphering the fragments left behind in the Anthropocene. Writers use ashes as a metaphorical device in storytelling. Have you ever wondered about the symbolism of ashes? Archaeological fragments of tablet, papyrus, bone, scroll, and pottery are recognizable the world over. In our digital era, however, our lost folkloric works disintegrate into dust. In this sense, I consume the silver flakes and use my he{art] as a vessel to rise from dystopic wastelands. I share lore through the oral tradition. Ashes to Ashes we continue on ∞ to infinity ∞ We are ash. We are stories. We are star dust. We are eternal.
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September 2024
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