September 22, 2026

if you are reading this poem from far into the future
don’t let those who write the history books convince you
that this was a golden era of plenty

it was not

it absolutely is not

things are really really really bad right now

but don’t let them convince you that everyone was
dour
sad all the time
doing nothing
having no happiness

we find joy

we find joy

it’s what keeps us going/living/fighting for the future
for you

the black and brown folks i know
the immigrants and citizens
the neurodivergent and disabled
and all my queer kin, we can find
happiness in even the bleakest of places

it’s what makes us so resilient

it’s what makes us all worth fighting for

even when we give up on
fighting for ourselves, we
continue on, fighting for
each other

and that, i believe, is one of the most beautiful things
about our community

[and what those in power
absolutely lack]

so

things are bad

no one has enough money to truly live

ice is terrorizing everyone
no matter immigration status

our rights are being stripped away
and we are absolutely aware of it

and

we dance in the streets
we find someone to hold at night
we feed our dogs and our cats
and our fish/birds/lizards/other animals
sometimes before we feed ourselves
we care for each other
and seem to continue passing around the
same twenty dollars
ad infinitum, but damn, that twenty dollars
can make a difference in someone’s week
and we play games
and we check in
and we let each other know when we’ve
gotten home safely
and we meet strangers whom we know
care about people
and we give our knowledge to them
we give our trust to them
because we know we cannot continue
without others
and others cannot continue
without us doing our part

it sucks
and it’s joyful
and we’re working so hard against
those who would take everything away
for a lackluster feeling of power and a hoard of
fake monetary wealth

but we are concentrating on each other and the joy right now

those who suck can continue to fuck up humanity in their little gated communities
and giant white houses

here is where the party is

and the party is
revolution

May 30, 2026

what happens when the apocalypse happens
in fits and starts
and tiny bit by tiny bit?

if the future generations survive, will they look back on us
with wonder at how we made it this far?

if the future generations thrive, will they look back on us
and laugh at how foolish we were to assume
that we weren’t at the start of the middle
of the end times that they
escaped?

only hindsight is 20/20
we can only concern ourselves with the here and now
and try to institute the lessons from our own pasts
our paths to here we can re-tread, our paths forward
have not yet been paved
but i can’t stop myself from thinking myself far into the future
with wonderment
with fear
with imagination
with questions
because i’m concerned with the future of our planet
and how we can leave
here
better than we found it

[can we
leave it better than we found it???]

February 5, 2026

perhaps we’re living on the edge

perhaps the space age is actually coming
and the future will be so much brighter
than this tragic darkness we’re currently enduring
and our art will be the stuff of legends
of how we got out from under
fascist strong arms
and authoritarian ties
and everything will turn out
alright
in the end

i’m hopeful
but not expectful
because i know how these “governments” work
and we are facing a long
long
long
long
long trek ahead
[even a flashy fast apocalypse
would be welcomed more
than this slow descending trend
towards the end]

but as much as i see each moment
as if it’ll be viewed in history
i do not have the foresight of the future
i cannot know exactly what direction we’re taking
until it’s already been
taken

so i’ll simply say this:

continue fighting
whether the end is in sight
or not — perhaps your words will inspire
the next artist
to write

and on and on we inspire
and write
and fight

until the light actually
comes blazing
through.

November 7, 2021

i have so many
Interests
so many
Desires
so many
Hopes and Dreams and Plans and Futures
and i get stuck thinking
about
how
i’ll probably never accomplish them all
simply because a human life
is only so long
(and i’m cursed with needing that full 7-8 hours of sleep to function)
but still…
if i keep spending all my time
Worrying
and
Mourning
something
not yet lost
i’ll never even accomplish one of my desires,
will i?

(this poem is post-titled:
Just Try To Get An Agent And/Or Release Your Podcast Already!)