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Lyric Poetry of Tracie Morell
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The Byronic Crown
#1: Yes Intended Audience She’s always ready for guerrilla tactics, pen in hand, marching—one foot in front of the other to leave a single path masked by the bits of carpet she tied around...
Actuated by Officiousness
he realized, even in his panic he had not wanted to smudge the creamy paper by shutting the book while the ink was wet. 1984-Orwell It makes no difference how to resist. Winston Smith kn...
There Is No Mandela Here
My tired, nearly blind eyes have seen too much. I’ve seen processions of corpses. Lists of dead friends I started keeping at age thirteen have scrolled out taped together as far as subu...
Drinking the Tea
Decades of taxing my body matters not to the tax on wages, tax on property, tax on welfare, tax on health, tax on labor, even a death tax. It’s all taxing to the quality of all existenc...
He Said: “She’s a Doll”
Originally posted on disdainfulbeauty: A motionless doll prone on the floor, I am wet ? with weeping. Being indignant for being treated by the world ? with indifference, I will be pulled up...
Originally posted on disdainfulbeauty: To the sum of a battle cry can you help? In the different selves ? outside of oneself a sickness has taken hold. The sad melody of malady ? gripping ...
Too Invisible to See Tyranny
Slavery takes its form in a chain of infinite numbers now. The master-slave relationship plays out in economics, as it always has, so we’re blind to our chains and work our asses off fo...
American Refugee as of 12:37am 1/21/17
I just couldn’t look. I couldn’t watch someone repulsive to every fiber of me, even the sound of his voice makes me cringe and my lip quiver. The rest of me is frozen with paralysis, whi...
What Most People Don’t Read
To be a living footnote in other’s lives is to feel loneliness beyond description. You’re there as an annotation to the goings on around you, but like most fine print it’s often skipped...
By Men, Truth Is…
Always, it has been odd to see the world with open eyes. Terror is omnipotent. With tremoring waves of an unnamed emotion I know of. It’s a knowing we are liars in one form or anoth...
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