Inspired by tensionliterary’s prompt on Instagram: Tell No One Tell no one that a genocide is being committed In the name of a god, a people, an ethnostate Tell no … Continue reading Tell No One
Tag: My Writing
Masala Chai
Thank you for the Masala Chai From UAE I am following the instructions To boil it the way you did A year ago On a similarly cold day While bombs … Continue reading Masala Chai
Grief
I was born with a dark twin
Similarly unwanted, but relied on.
They were a small, black mutt
With wiry black fur, oversized ears,
And large dark eyes.
Born together and bonded together.
This being became my trusted companion
Shield me, drove me, broke me
I ignored it
I hated it
I dismissed it.
But it was always there
Patiently following me wherever I went.
Growing in size and power
Until I could no longer ignore it.
Until I heard its loud breathing
And disgruntled growls and roars.
Until I heard the heavy thuds
Of its paws
as it trailed behind me.
Until I felt its wiry fur as it slept beside me.
As I saw its dark form
At the foot of my bed,
In the corner of my office,
Sleeping at my feet while I wrote,
Cuddling next to me on the couch,
Eating my scraps as I cooked.
Patient, protective, heartbroken.
I sit cross legged on my bed
The beast sitting on all fours in front of me.
Our eyes locked
Our breathes uneven,
And I tentatively reach out
And stroke its dark fur
And it rests its big cheeks
In the palm of my hand
And I cry as the beast unfurls
And lies down, resting its head in my lap
And I stroke its fur.
Scream
Can’t you see the world is dying
Can’t you see?
Don’t you care?
The whole world is on fire
People are dying
Millions of people are dying all over the world
Every day
And no one cares
No one cares
We drown out the screams with white noise
We’ve grown used to the stench of blood and rotting flesh
We no longer see the trails of blood
We do not notice our hands stained with blood
Our clothes stained with blood
We do not notice we feast on the bloated remains of the starved
We do not notice that the mortar that holds up our homes and institutions.
Is made from the bones of those we left to die in the streets
Of those we killed in camps,
in prisons,
in plantations,
In sweatshops,
In warehouses,
In alleys
Through maliciousness
Through enjoyment
Through neglect
All I want to do is scream
Scream through the madness of it all
Scream and scream
Until my throat is bloody and raw
Until the world stops and listens
Until this terrifying loss of faith
And hope for the future
Consumes me
And I no longer know fear
Or self-preservation
Only the fiery rage that will burn this all down
Let this world end
Let us burn it to the ground
And trust others to rebuild
A stronger, loving world
But first we must burn these decrepit things
Blow away the bleached white rib cages of ancient monstrosities
That refuse to let go of their wealth
And their power
Let us flip the continent over, into the sea
Wash away all this horror
And when it returns to the surface
May the sun shine
On a new land
A new people
A new future
Where death isn’t compartmentalized
Where responsibilities to each other are not abnegated
Where we no longer need to
Feast on rot and decay
Where our footsteps do not leave a trial of blood
And our bones are not carved
With the name of all we’ve killed
Let it end
Let it all end
So others may live
Cosmic Phoenix
Long has the cosmic phoenix held sway over me
The bringer of hope and destroyer of worlds.
A being of pure energy; capable of great cruelty and beauty.
Agender, transgender nonbinary, all used to describe me
And I find myself a spectrum bound in human form.
Long has the cosmic phoenix held sway over me
For some people consider aro-aces to be fantasy;
Hungering only for trusted company and cosmic wonders.
A being of pure energy; capable of great cruelty and beauty.
This mortal coil, a weapon used against me.
Always the mirror distorting my reflection.
Long has the cosmic phoenix held sway over me.
It’s not that I don’t have an identity.
It’s that you cannot understand me,
A being of pure energy; capable of great cruelty and beauty.
Don’t try to cage me
With your preconceived notions of who I should be.
Long has the cosmic phoenix held sway over me.
A being of pure energy; capable of great cruelty and beauty.
Who Killed Efrain Romero De La Rosa
I’m not currently going through my writing folders and publish crap I wrote ages ago. Nope, not me.
Who Killed Efrain Romero De La Rosa
Who killed Efrain Romero De La Rosa, a man of 40, who struggled with schizophrenia?
Not us, says the American voters
We’re just waiting for this to blow over
Yeah, we voted for Trump, what of it?
We don’t want nobody dying
And, yeah, solitary confinement sounds horrifying
But it’s him or us, you see
That’s what they say on TV
Who killed Carlos Hernandez Vasquez, a boy of sixteen who was found unresponsive?
Not us, says Border Patrol
We had everything under control.
He was cared for.
Don’t ask me why no one was sent for
Don’t ask why he had to die
There are so many in here
One or two are bound to disappear
Who killed Roxsana Hernandez Rodriguez, her only crime being transgender and HIV positive?
Not us, says ICE
Our inmates’ health is our number one priority
But we must maintain the utmost authority
Roxsana was already trouble
And the lads wanted a chuckle
So we put her in the cooler
Then the lads grew crueler
Who killed Johana Medina Leon, a transgender woman on the cusp of achieving asylum?
Not I, says Corey A. Price
You all are always looking for a reason to blame ICE
It wasn’t our fault, honest!
It was her own diseased body that gave up on her
Besides she’s the ones we need to deter
Those who bring in diseases to our fair land
I’m sure Trump has a grand plan
Who killed Osmar Epifanio Gonzalez-Gadba, a man lost in segregation and withdrawal?
Not I, says Mitch McConnell,
The rest of the party nodding along
Glad his suffering wasn’t prolonged
Had to be segregated, so I was told
Proud the ICE officers exhibited self-control
Man who sees things is unnerving
And I think your criticism is undeserving
Who killed Jeancarlo Jimenez-Joseph, who struggled with psychosis?
Not I says Bill Barr
Picking the remains of the DOJ out of his teeth
I imagine not all was well underneath
In his mind, you know how they are
Best thing to do is keep them afar
Don’t misunderstand me, wouldn’t want them to perish
But it’s a thought that many Americans cherish.
Who killed Felipe Gomez Alonso, a boy of eight whose infection was allowed to grow?
Not I, says Kirstjen Nielsen
And it wasn’t because he wasn’t European
It’s not our fault he got an infection
While lying in cages that are not cages, in a dirty section
And the same goes for Juan de Leon Gutierrez and Jakelin Caal Maquin
They bring the disease with them as they sneak in.
Our facilities are clean and Trump’s policies are a win
Who killed Darlyn Cristabel Cordova-Valle, a girl of ten with spirit strong, but heart so frail
It was I says Stephen Miller
With pride
I was glad to watch her suffer and die
As she begged to see her mother
And thrown in where she belongs, with the others.
It is part of my plan
To cleanse this land
Who killed Wilmer Josue Ramirez Vasquez, a boy of 2 and a half months?
Not I says Mike Pence
And frankly I believe the media is being a bit dense
I’ve been to the facilities
They’ve been provided with all necessary utilities
No one enjoys when babies die
But the responsibility is not yours or mine
After all, God blessed us, not them.
Who killed Mariee Juarez, a 20 months old baby?
I did, says Donald Trump
And I did it better than anyone
Now I won’t say it was fun, but I’m glad it’s done
And I’ll kill more, you’ll see, the numbers will be huge
I’ll single-handedly stop the deluge
I’m the only one who can do it
See, I’m the chosen one, I simply can’t quit!
The Ubermensch Café
This is a really old piece that I wrote during my Caberet obsession.
Ah, welcome, welcome, my, we have a large crowd today.
I am your MC and Host
Owner and keeper of Ubermensch Café
Where our men drip with testosterone
and our women are better trained than well bred dogs
No one can play a marching beat like our orchestra
And when the girls come out in their army boots
It’s like being in Nuremberg all over again
One could simply die!
First, we must thank our patrons.
The old rascal Uncle Sam, give him a hand.
Dirtiest geezer that’s ever stepped foot in this reputable café
And, the lovely, wonderful, Mother Russia
Don’t you wish you had a mother like her when you were a child?
A backhand one second and a roll of ones the next.
We have a hell of a line up for you tonight.
Uncle Sam has gathered 3 scrumptious girls
But first, let’s see who’s here.
Xi, I swear you haven’t moved from that spot in six years.
What’s that? Lifetime member?
Haven’t had one of those since Mao was hanging around.
No, I swear.
And here is our resident tiger and heart breaker-Vlad.
Conquered any new countries lately?
No? Ah, chin up.
There’s always tomorrow
Oh, a newcomer here and a looker at that.
Bashur?
Well, don’t you worry, dear,
We’ll take good care of you.
Ah, here come the girls!
First, the lovely Democracy!
She’s a little bloated, that’s true, but no one’s perfect.
Here is her lovely twin sister, Justice!
Isn’t she a beaut?
Backdoor’s a little sore, but don’t let that stop you
And, finally, Privacy.
Look gents, no modesty left.
Isn’t that lovely?
Ah, yes, Xi, my good sir.
Democracy, you say? Are you sure?
She’s been with some real dogs.
All in good fun, Vlad, all in good fun.
Ah, yes, Vlad, don’t you worry
Privacy was bought and reserved just for you
By the one and only,
The wonderfully clueless: Mark!
Oh, Bashar, dear, I’m sorry
but your card has been declined.
Oh! Vlad here’s willing to cover it.
What a gentleman.
What’s that? Where’s surveillance and propaganda?
Don’s having a go at them in the back.
Can’t you hear them squeal?
Yes, gentlemen, there is no place like the Ubermensch café
We understand that hard working leaders of the world
Need a place to recharge
And have their bruised egos soothed
While the world burns.
A Bad Day in July
I’m tired
I’m tired of having to care about spreadsheets and other stupid things
When my world is dying
And my friends are dying
And the country I thought I knew and love
Never existed
And the country I”m left with
Isn’t worth saving
But it’s my home
And I’m afraid of leaving
Everything I know.
But how can i stay
In a home that doesn’t want me?
That wants to kill me?
But first it’ll kill my friends
And my neighbors
And the people who make up the background of my life
People I don’t notice until they are gone.
I ride the bus and look at all the businesses
And people
And houses
And I ask myself, “will I notice when people start disappearing?”
Or am I so cocooned in my own white bullshit
I won’t even be aware anyone’s gone?
How many people have to disappear for anyone to care?
Not 1 million.
Not even 6 million.
I am busy
But am I making a difference?
Always asking am I involved with the right groups?
I’m never doing enough.
This isn’t a revolution
But I know one is coming.
Where do I find it?
How do I find it?
Am I brave enough for it?
How am I supposed to function?
How are any of us supposed to function?
I want to stop functioning.
I want to stop doing anything that contributes to this fucked up society
I want to step out
I want to lay down my sword and my pen
I want to sleep
And when I wake, I want to rip this world in two
I don’t want to be trapped in my whiteness
My middle-class nature
My bourgeoise upbringing
My nine-to-five, pay the bills on time
Always the rule follower
Spineless sycophant
Who needs everyone to love them
And be happy with them
Because all I’ve ever known is rejection and violence.
But I am response for four mentally ill people
Who I love
And I can’t retreat
Because where will we live?
How will we eat?
And that is how the system traps you
Because I have no community
And I don’t know how to build one
Because I hate people
And I hate vulnerability
And I’m so fucking tired of being treated less than human
And I’m so fucking tired of forced social interactions
I’ve never found my people
And I’m too scared to start looking
Because it requires too much from me
And so I’m trapped
Trapped in my trauma and my father’s horror
And my whiteness and my money
And I just want to claw out
But I’m afraid of blood.
Afraid of who I’ll cut
During my mad escape
Afraid of where I’ll end up.
The fear of losing everything keeps you enslaved.
I have a life that many people would want.
I am safer than many of my peers and friends
I have a good place to live
I have a good job with good benefits
I’ve kept my family with me
They are alive and getting the help they need.
I am grateful for what I have
But it is also a heavy source of shame
Because I have it and don’t do enough with it
Because I have it when so many people don’t.
Because I can’t count the people I’ve harmed to get it.
Because I haven’t untangled how my whiteness helped me.
Because I can’t say that when the revolution comes,
I should be spared.
A Writing Thing: Alex and Christine
I’ve had a hard time doing anything since my dog died earlier this month, but here is a writing thing that took me three weeks to write. It’s about a … Continue reading A Writing Thing: Alex and Christine
The Martyr and the Widow
Synopsis: Marcus, also known as Heva’s Bane, is the most feared and wanted trans anthro crocodile in Killbraugha. He is literally fearless except when it comes to professing his love for his second in command’s sister: Caroline. With his feelings growing harder and harder to hide each passing day, Marcus desperately desires to tell her how he feels, but how can he when she is still grieving her murdered husband?
This is a short story featuring rebel leader Marcus Galloway (he/him), his second-in-command Kerry McNair (they/he), and Kerry’s sister, Caroline McDermott (she/her). They are three sides characters from the book I’m currently prepping for publication: Kingsley (the one about queer anthro crocodiles giving the middle finger to colonial asshats).
Mars 21st 1825 – McDermott’s Cottage, Marston County, Killbraugha
Marcus knew this was a mistake but said nothing as Kerry led him down the winding road to Caroline’s cottage, the lush green hills of Killbraugha offering an eternal peace and quiet found nowhere else. Not even the invading Hevian forces nor Marcus’ and Kerry’s righteous cause could disturb the tranquility that emitted from their native soil. The grief and pain hovered at the edges, of course, slightly tainting the serenity he desperately craved, but Marcus found it easy to ignore when he focused his mind on unyielding, disciplined, and lovely Caroline. No need to bring his brooding thoughts to her doorstep, one who had already lost so much and would only lose more. Better to bask in her calming presence and indulge in the life she had built by herself, against all odds, but attributed to God’s love and mercy.
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Pepper Writes 