half-formed poems
catastrophizing stuck in my head
until i think i’ll burst if i don’t
say
something
and then it’s there stuck in my throat
when i remember
actual
catastrophes
all while i’m too tired to sleep
and too sad to cry
and everything feels like a clock ticking down
down
down
but to what
inevitable
terror?
[or is this simply life in late-stage capitalism/climate crisis disaster?]
am i
enjoying
my work?
can i
be mad at
capitalism, even whilst i
enjoy my
work?
the questions of the ages of this late stage implosion
calming massages
and meditations
and stretching in mornings
[or evenings]
and taking deep breaths
and being thankful
and all the things i know would help
but i either forget about
or never have the time
or, more often than not, i feel like i’m undeserving
of the care and its after effects
and i just wish i could somehow convince my full self
i’m allowed some kind of
self-care
[and maybe even remind myself
that it’s imperative
to take down settler colonialism
and capitalism
and the white supremacist patriarchy]
mutual aid
mutual companionship
community
and us keeping us safe
i can listen and adopt and absorb these ideals,
but being raised in middle class white america
means my default is to
the individualistic/
pull oneself up by their bootstraps/
bullshit this country forcefeeds us
even when i don’t want to believe
[brainwashing is a powerful thing]
in the middle of a very tough conversation
about the state of the world
and how terrible it is
and how sometimes we just want someone
[or something]
to blame,
and how that can easily take one into
conspiracy theory territory,
and what to do to actually
better
this terrible
world we’re living in —
we got on the subject of unions,
and how unionizing is one of two proven things
working within our system
that actually makes the peoples’ voice
louder
and have more power,
and i stop for a moment, and say “i love you.”
and kip asks why
[as they do]
and i respond “because you recommend that all workers under you
join or form
a union.”
my eyes still shining with love and adoration
at my manager of a spouse
[who can’t make or join a union, for conflict of interest reasons]
and they roll their eyes with love
and say
“that is the gayest
and most communist thing
you’ve ever said to me”
and i love them even more now.
a sudden sad
is it the rain?
is it my own mistake
in ordering our breakfast day?
is it my hormones
being completely out of balance?
is it my mood disorder
and some sort of need to meditate?
or is it living under late-stage capitalism,
watching systems that care more for profit
than for people,
and observing tragedies,
wars,
and genocides
half a planet away
that i almost almost almost almost feel
i have some power to stop,
when in reality
i absolutely
do not?
guess it’s probably the rain…
the act of visible mending
is a tiny protest to society’s
constant stream of
‘consumerism’
‘respectability politics’
‘appearance is worth everything’ —
it is taking a learned skill,
applying it
loudly
and proudly
and with imperfections,
and telling capitalism to
kindly
go screw itself.
the emptiness
the spite
the despair
the hope that’s barely there
the human condition
that really doesn’t have to be conditional
to billionaires’ whims
there is a different way
[there always was
there always is]
question all the answers given,
and answer everything that’s asked of you
by a child —
even if your answer is
“i don’t know”
that’s better than lying
or saying “just ‘cuz it’s so”
we need more critical thinkers;
we need more people to grow and go up against
the powers that be
because the powers that be
are just being
rich
and i don’t believe that benefits
anyone
but themselves.
[and we’ve needed something new
for a long long while now]
abandoned the Queer Liberation March
for our family
(but i think that’s what queer liberation means —
the choice to care for those around you,
for your family to be accepted and seen/
the queer love and joy (and pain and sorrow)
seen/ as equivalently normal
to straights
and cis’s)
so
while we no longer have the perfect track record
of only going to the Queer Liberation March
since moving to new york,
at least we retain our record
of never attending nyc corporate pride
(and that almost feels more apt
in this capitalistic grind consumerist colonizer society
of ours)
kipventures 