Fight

In a red and arid land far away,
An attack is mounting,
An assault on feminine autonomy,
A patriarchal drake,
Calling itself a law,
Summoned in a circle marked with quills,

Stand firm sisters and mothers,
This beast can be fought,
Nothing can burn your choice,
You are might,
You are freedom,
The summoners of this creature know this,

Jeeringly they call themselves a supreme court,
These men think themselves puppeteers,
Longing to travel back in time,
To more ignorant years,
When fiction ruled lives,
Theocracy slivering out of the cracks,

You can not back down from this,
Your bodies are your own,
Ginsburg is behind you,
Stand firm ladies,
They will not take your strength,
Your sovereignty.

Dictatorial Time

Time oversees us all,
Within its hourglass booth,
Like a tiger unable to maul,
With fangs of sand,

We cannot escape it,
We are leashed to it,
Our bodies wilt and rot,
As the sand falls unquestioned,

The hourglass stands tall,
Upon an iron podium,
Like a dictator,
With gravity a willing sycophant,

A true oligarch,
This Father Time,
Emotionless and unrelenting,
Fists of platinum wearing us down,

And as the sand falls,
We shall fall too,
Into gaping graves,
Such is the edict of time.

Red Stamp

New Monday.
New week.
Same old work.
Same old desk.
Boss is a bigot.
Bored of life.
Hate working at the warrant office.

Case-file 1.
First of many.
20 something female.
Artist.
No native family.
Boring.
Sentenced to termination.

Case-file 2.
Getting hungry now.
Young infant.
Found on the border.
Parents shot dead by security nearby.
Impressionable.
Sentenced to indoctrination.

Case-file 3.
Young foreign couple.
Boring.
Sentenced to termination.
Can’t wait for work to end.
Hate this tedious job.
Nothing interesting ever happens at the warrant office.

This red termination stamp is getting worn out too.