If the pen is to be mightier,
then my word needs to be heavier
I must lift my voice to the sky
Every time tyranny tries
tearing into us
The pen may be mighty, but peace is slow
The sword swings doors closed
So we break walls
We relay the call
not by little tin cans
but by cables spanning oceans
We don't buy news, we pay attention
We don't fight the weak for their pen
The sword swings swiftly
bleeds our constitution
till we risk running out of ink
Freedom is never said and done
Peace is declared yet the sword swings on
Check out the making of this poem on my medium account:
Photo by Octavian Dan on Unsplash
#philosophy #politics #poetry #ethics #tyranny
Why They can’t Say Her Name
You might’ve heard two words
about a titan
who stood tall as Man should
Maybe you read of a hero who rose
to the challenge, not to the chalice,
who refused any and all claims
to her blood
How are we women, not set ablaze?
The only good philosopher
in 2400 years
and we don’t dare whisper her name?
for fear of sounding too masculine
too capitalist too…what?
Who taught us that was wrong anyway.
She gave us plain language
for self-love when
every man before her
gave us metaphors
and mind games
In metaphysics, I learned
all the tropes and templates
and never once found out
what reality was made of
And then Rand said,
Let us use mind
because existence is
regardless if I,
or anybody realizes it
She said existence exists
and we are conscious of it
As a species, We are the most
remarkable on our planet
As individuals, We are the only
divinity we know
To hear that shouldn’t hurt our ego
Yet we’re so used to taking
our own name in vain.
She said life is the good
and virtue is the means
by which we maintain it
She said Happiness is
She proved! free will is a given: As in,
Make up your own damn mind!
waltzes in, hand in hand
with coercion: As in,
a bible or baton
She said survival requires reason
We trade our ideas, our labor, and our time
For all who would pull the wool over our pride
She showed us how to flip the script
flip the bird, flip the table
We were taught to grovel
She showed us how to shrug
#Philosophy #Life #Poetry #Canadianpoet
Photo by Siddhant Kumar on Unsplash
Something that struck home by Osho.
The capacity to be alone is the capacity to love. It may look paradoxical to you, but it's not. It is an existential truth: only those people who are capable of being alone are capable of love, of sharing, of going into the deepest core of another person--without possessing the other, without becoming dependent on the other, without reducing the other to a thing, and without becoming addicted to the other. They allow the other absolute freedom, because they know that if the other leaves, they will be as happy as they are now. Their happiness cannot be taken by the other, because it is not given by the other.
Funny how one single read can shift a whole life long constructed and reinforced idea one has on the word love. Grateful to have found this today.
What Breaks a Heart?
What takes a strong heart and makes
pinpricks like blade licks
Small incisions, like decisions
to snip a part of you away
I take your hand to place
on my chest, take a second
Take a minute to feel strength
feel the pulse of my own ache
My old wound held together
moment to moment
by hand shakes, by embrace
Feel the release when you realize
That’s all it takes
Human connection like rose inspection
Is a trust game
You must prove you can remain
Stable and soft
even in heat and exhaust–
You cannot faint!
You can't feint either
Every time your heart’s cut
you must train
at least at the start
To lead with your brain
not as they say, with your heart
A strong heart
is cut apart
A weak brain
is picked over
again and again
Lead with your mind
like your life depends on it
Hold your heart dear like death
is nothing to fear
A strong heart can break
a thousand times
but a strong mind
not even once
Photo by Zac Durant on Unsplash
#poetry #philosophy #life #mind #love
Ask and you shall receive by some philosophical person out there
I asked for strength, and was given difficulties to make me stronger.
I asked for wisdom, and received problems to solve.
I asked for courage, and dangers appeared to overcome.
I finally asked for the best gift of all, love, I encountered troubled souls of broken human vessels to help heal.
I got everything I asked for.
Deployments and Foreign Women
I have watched the other women here write poetry, pen and paper, in notebooks similar to my own. Sitting on coffee shop couches or on mid-morning strolls, they pour out their thoughts. Though their handwriting is more elegant, god sent calligraphy. Their language is more elegant, they speak in lustful tongue, smile on their face.
They are more elegant, god sent bodies.
I am American bred, I speak in coffee and contempt, rejection and rage. They are macchiato masterpiece, good wine in dim light. I write in dominance, independent façade. My eyes remain harsh, staring at their mouths, listening to them speak rough draft writing in broken English, words unfamiliar on their lips just so I can comprehend. Translation a little off, I just like to hear them talk.
They are chivalrous, confidence unwavering, sunshine aura.
I am in a unique place here. Amongst thirty different nations on a NATO base lost somewhere in the Balkans. There are so few of us, I see the same people on my walks to work, we nod good morning out of respect.
With only a sixteenth of us being women, there is an unspoken language that requires no words, no poetry, no pen and paper. A language that lingers through eye contact, through strong core posture, soft smiles. A language that screams in passing, “I will look out for you, stand by you, we are woman”. A compromise, an understanding, an unspoken rule, we fall to our knees to no one, and especially not alone.
They cling to me like children, knowing the rage of the American woman, the young American woman. They would never ask for help, but they plead with their eyes, “don’t let him follow me, don’t let him belittle me”. The American woman, good at subtle hints, better at standing toe to toe to foreign men, to domestic men, confidence unwavering.
I watch women from thirty different countries take notes on American women in notebooks that used to house poetry. We are poetry, we are the topic of conversation in foreign tongue, we are role models, and spitting image of lost hope.
We are briefings that men from other nations get, “Stay away from American women, they are sex appeal, and lust, and bad news. They report sexual assault at a rate higher than any other nation.” All I heard was rape women from other countries, they’ve learned to keep their mouths shut.
American women are heard at a rate higher than any other nation because we’ve learned to yell, bitch and moan. We are sex appeal, and lust, and bad news, but we demand it to be consensual. We demand the right to scream for other women, be their voice too.
American behavior in European streets, shove grown men off of their feet. Thanked in private by soft spoken women. Tell her to keep writing poetry, tell her she is soldier, warrior, worthy of more. Twenty two years young, never thought I’d be the one begging women of foreign forces to stand their own.
Constant combat for a peaceful deployment, the war on women.
Describe Your Characters
I don’t know if this view will be met with disapproval, but I feel like I’m in the minority when I say, I want good character descriptions. The trend in modern day fiction is to be sparse with the descriptions, if you use any at all. But that method always leaves me a bit dissatisfied. It’s not like I want big long descriptions done via mirror cliché. But I want enough that to be able to picture the characters. Enough so that each character doesn’t just end up looking the same as any other in my mind. A good description will help me remember a character. Good descriptions will help me see a group of distinct and unique characters, instead of a group that all look kind of the same in my mind.
I don’t want grey characters who are essentially a blank canvas for me to fill in. I want unique and quirky characters with memorable looks. I think, sometimes, writers leave descriptions sparse so that the reader can insert themselves into the main character. It goes hand in hand with the bland main character trend. But I don’t want to insert myself into the main character, I want to read about a character that is distinct and unique. They don’t have to be like me to be interesting. They don’t have to be like me to be relatable. Describing a character gives them life. Leaving them a blank canvas, makes them boring.
The Perversion of my Religion
If you were to see the five pointed star in a circle somewhere, what would you first think of? If you said (or thought) Satanism or Satanic, you would be in the unfortunate majority. You see, the shape that many call a pentagram and associated with Satanic things and rituals is actually a religious symbol in Paganism known as the Pentacle. It represents harmony, equality, and the five elements working together to create the world as we know it. The Pentacle slowly became known as the pentagram when Christianity began to santanize the Pagan religion and practices, perverting one of the most peaceful religious symbols we have into something associated with horrible crimes and rituals that Pagans don't practice or have a hand in at all. Because of this perverting of paganism, a lot of people hear me say “Oh, I'm a Pagan Witch '' and immediately think that I worship Satan and hurt animals as sacrifices (Note: I do not do these things. The worst I have done is yell at a bowl of water for not cooperating with me). There is so much negative media and stereotypes around my religion that makes it hard for me to be open about what I practice and why. It so quickly changes people's perceptions of me when I reveal my religious affiliation, and oftentimes it changes it for the worse.
When someone tells you “I am a witch” or “I practice Witchcraft”, what is the first thing that comes to mind? If you said (or thought) witchcraft isn't real, they’re a big harry potter nerd, or something off of those lines you would again be in the majority. People don't take Witchcraft seriously, and I'm not really surprised. With the stereotypes made by popular media such as Harry Potter, people no longer really consider it a religion. People mock me for saying “I am a witch.”, Which I am. I practice witchcraft, I cast spells, hold rituals, speak to those in different planes, I am a witch. But so many people just see that as me saying “I love Harry Potter so much that I made it my whole personality!”, which isn't true at all. Paganism and Pagan Witchcraft have been around for much much much longer that Harry Potter has. And while witchcraft (or stories of it) did inspire works like Harry Potter, the series did not accurately represent what Witchcraft really is. And that's fine, things like that are fantasy works, full of whimsy and magick (like a fairytale) and it's not bad for them to show witchcraft and magic in that way. What's bad is that people are no longer able to separate Magic (fairytale stuff) from Magick (Witchcraft stuff).
I just wish that I could say “I'm a witch” or “I practice Pagan Witchcraft” without people herding their children away from me in fear and disgust or laughing and mocking me for being an idiot. I just want to practice my religion and be open about it, like many others about their religion. I feel that through many centuries and through various mediums, my religion has been perverted into something to be mocked, joked about, feared, and shamed for.
Witchcraft isn't bad or evil, it's good and I do good things with it. I cast lucky spells to help with getting a job or passing that test, focus spells to help my friends study. I don't cast spells on people without their permission, and many witches don't curse or hex or jinx people. Witchcraft is powerful, just as other religions are. Witchcraft is good, but it has the potential to be bad if used incorrectly, exactly like any other religions in this plane. I do all I can to try and change the perverted mess that witchcraft has been seen as and show it as the good that it truly is, but sometimes those efforts feel useless.
I just want to practice my religion and be open about it.
- A Magick Moki-Mori
I Choose Belief
I believe in God because
and tried everything else.
Substances loss their kick.
You can never be too rich or too thin.
And, God knows, I am only as all mighty as the weakest link
in my genetic chain.
If the universe
begins and ends with me
what set into motion all that ancient history I never learned?
Chimps locked up in a roomful of computers will eventually write Shakespeare.
Don't hold your breath.
Neanderthals in caves thousands of years before Abram
made drawings in ash to the spirit who sent rain and deer
while miles and millennia away
civilizations built structures to reach up into the heavens.
Who's to say what's the perfect path to God
when we can only reach him with the limits of our own humanity?
So we reduce the concept to our own human scale:
a great vending machine you feed prayers into
an white bearded Santa with a bad temper
the "help I've fallen" button just in case.
your mind loses itself in the impossibility of it all
you'll realize that
only the supernatural can explain
There is a creator
the source of light, life, and love
so much greater than anyone can imagine
extending out beyond the edge of an endless universe
both inside and outside ourselves
and at this realization
I choose belief.
Many people think being nothing but straight is a sin. Some people even think you should wear certain clothes that fit your gender at birth. Being apart of the LGBT community may make people think differently about you.
Some people think we should wear the stereotypical clothing for our gender we were at birth. They think women should wear feminine clothing and men wear manly clothing. It is a bigger deal for some people for a man not to wear "manly" clothes than for a women not to wear "feminine" clothes.
If a man or women came out as homosexual in the early nineteen hundreds, it was considered illegal. Some prisons even brought physiologists in to talk to the people in jail.
In my opinion, you should be able to love who you love. You should be able to dress how you what to dress. If someones does not fit in your stereotype that ok.