Author: poeaxtry_

  • Banned Books to Read During Fascist Regimes: Why Orwell’s 1984 Still Matters in 2026

    Banned Books to Read During Fascist Regimes: Why Orwell’s 1984 Still Matters in 2026


    In 1949, George Orwell wrote Nineteen Eighty‑Four as a warning about how power could erode privacy, truth, and freedom. Today, the concerns Orwell dramatized aren’t science fiction, they’re unfolding in real time. Digital surveillance and social media influence the likeness is evident. And Immigration enforcement is expanding monitoring tools. The parallels between 1984 and now are too strong to ignore. 


    Modern Surveillance and 1984

    In 1984, Orwell’s “telescreens” monitor citizens without reprieve, ensuring conformity and crushing dissent. Modern analogs aren’t dystopian gadgets hidden in walls. But they’re in our pockets and on cloud servers. Industry‑wide data collection leads to pervasive awareness. Algorithmic profiling contributes to this realization. Social media tracking and government access to digital footprints further suggest that private life is shrinking. 


    Algorithmic Tracking and Digital Control

    Platforms like TikTok and Instagram tailor content and track behavior. This resembles Orwell’s Ministry of Truth, shaping reality for citizens. Corporate algorithms determine what people see, what they think is true, and how they self‑present in public spaces. This isn’t an authoritarian plot, but it functions like one. 


    Law Enforcement and Social Media Monitoring

    U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) is planning a 24/7 social media surveillance team. The team will monitor public platforms and gather intelligence. This includes potentially identifying targets for enforcement. Civil liberties advocates warn this could chill speech and privacy. 

    California has introduced tools for residents. These tools allow them to request that data brokers delete personal information. This is a step back from surveillance and toward privacy protection. 


    Immigration Enforcement and Echoes of State Control

    In 1984, dissent is punished and movement controlled. Today, U.S. immigration enforcement has deployed its largest‑ever operations and expanded digital and physical tracking methods.


    Expansion of Data‑Driven Enforcement

    ICE and related agencies have increased biometric tracking tools. They also plan to unify datasets across federal departments. This aims to build detailed profiles. Advocates have raised concerns about privacy and civil liberties as these systems grow more powerful and automated. 


    Join the conversation:


    What other banned or censored books do you think people should read during times of heightened state and corporate power?

    George Orwell's 1984 sitting on top of another book on a small stand next to an ashtray. A rolled marijuana cigar sits on the very top of the pile.

    Drop titles and reasons in the comments.


    Real‑World Raids and Enforcement Operations

    In the past year, several large enforcement operations have unfolded on U.S. soil, including raids in California and Chicago that have resulted in detentions, confrontations, and legal challenges. These events illustrate how state power is exercised in ways that, to many communities, feel like control rather than protection. 


    Control of Information and Public Perception

    One of 1984’s most chilling concepts is the manipulation of truth. History is rewritten. Facts are erased. Language is altered to shape thought. Modern information ecosystems are complex. They often function toward similar ends when disinformation spreads unchecked. Platforms moderate content in opaque ways. 

    This isn’t a simple comparison. It is an invitation to read critically. Consider who controls narratives. Think about how truth is defined in a world of selective exposure, echo chambers, and algorithmic amplification.


    Weaving the Parallels Together

    AI and algorithmic profiling, digital data harvesting, and law enforcement’s expanding toolkit are evident. The central tension in 1984, the tension between individual autonomy and systemized control, is alive in 2026. We do not live in Oceania. However, Orwell’s warnings about vigilance, truth, and memory deserve serious reflection. 


    1984 remains relevant not because history repeats itself exactly. The themes of power, surveillance, truth, and resistance are persistent in any age. This is true where attention is currency and information flows at scale. Reading it now isn’t nostalgic. It is conscious engagement. We attempt to understand not only the world around us. We also seek to comprehend the mechanisms that shape what we think we know.

    1984 has something urgent to teach us. You may choose to pair it with intentional reflection. Consider thoughtful discussion or slow‑paced reading. It teaches about watching, seeing, and resisting the subtle pressures that define our moment.


    Share with someone you know who:
    A.) Is considering reading 1984.
    B.) You think would benefit from or resonate with reading 1984.
    Or
    C.) Likes to read banned books.


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  • Day 12 Poem of 100 Days, “2026”, Manifesting through Poetry

    Day 12 Poem of 100 Days, “2026”, Manifesting through Poetry


    There’s a temptation every January to pretend the year before didn’t bruise us, to slap a fresh number on the calendar and call it rebirth.

    But real change doesn’t work like that. It carries memory. It carries consequence. This poem doesn’t ask 2026 to save us. It asks us to arrive honestly, eyes open, grief acknowledged, hope still breathing.

    After you read this poem, comment something you wanna manifest for the year of 2026. Or you could tell me if your manifestations send something like mine all input is appreciated.

    2026

    As we enter 2026,

    we need not forget

    the implications 2025

    had on our lives.

    Set our course and stay afloat.

    We cannot begin to give up hope.

    Dry our eyes from the tears we cried in 2025.

    Forget fear in the coming year.

    This year we will lead

    the majority of humanity

    to see each individual equally

    for the first time in human history.

    Poet’s Note

    This poem exists in the space between grief and resolve. It refuses erasure. 2025 mattered, for better or worse, and pretending otherwise only weakens what comes next.

    Writing this felt less like predicting the future and more like setting an intention that requires participation. Equality isn’t automatic. Hope isn’t passive. Both are choices we make out loud.

    2026 isn’t a reset button. It’s a continuation. What we carry forward matters just as much as what we leave behind. If this poem resonated, it’s because you already understand that change doesn’t come quietly. It comes when we decide to see each other fully and act like it.

    Share this with someone who feels like they need permission to hope again, so they can manifest alongside us, not alone.

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  • Day 11 of 100 Days of Poetry- “Beauty” a poem About Difference

    Day 11 of 100 Days of Poetry- “Beauty” a poem About Difference


    Day 11 sits in that quiet space where observation turns into truth.

    This poem doesn’t shout, it asks. It looks at nature and humanity. Then it waits for the reader to notice the gap between how we praise difference in the wild and how often we reject it in people.

    This is a piece about human difference, natural diversity, and the cultural resistance to letting others exist as they are.

    This is a window to the inside of humanity.

    Before you scroll, think about this: Where have you admired difference in nature but struggled with it in people?

    Where has it been done to you?

    Are you open to changed thinking?

    Let’s talk in the comments!

    Beauty

    What do waterfalls and the prints on your fingertips have in common?

    There’s no two exact matches anywhere in life.

    The flakes of snow prove the same.

    If nature relishes in difference,

    why can people not do the same?

    Historically, when someone is different,

    we as humans can’t handle it.

    Instead of losing your mind,

    embrace the beauty in human difference

    as you do in nature.


    Poet’s Note

    This poem exists because difference is celebrated selectively.

    We romanticize snowflakes, collect stones, hike through forests, and marvel at how nothing repeats itself exactly. Then we meet a human who doesn’t match the mold and suddenly uniqueness becomes a threat.

    “Beauty” is a reminder that difference is not a flaw, it’s the original design.

    Nature never asked permission to vary.

    People shouldn’t have to either.

    Difference is not new.

    It isn’t dangerous.

    It isn’t something to correct.

    The problem has never been uniqueness.

    The problem is discomfort, taught, inherited, and rarely questioned.

    If we can learn to admire the unrepeatable patterns in nature, we can learn to protect them in people.

    If this poem made you think of someone who has been made to feel “too different” or “too much,” share this with them.

    Simply to remind them that they were never the problem.

    Check out another day

  • Day 10 of 100 Days of Poetry- “New Year Same Fight”- A Call Out Poem

    Day 10 of 100 Days of Poetry- “New Year Same Fight”- A Call Out Poem

    Day ten lands in that strange quiet between calendars, when people throw confetti over unresolved harm and call it renewal.

    This poem doesn’t toast the turning of the year.

    It questions it.

    Because remember a new date doesn’t undo old violence.

    A holiday doesn’t cancel policy.

    And cheer, when it’s demanded instead of earned, becomes another form of pressure.

    This is for anyone who feels the dread creep in louder than the countdown.


    “New Year, Same Fight”

    As we get closer

    to the end of this year,

    I can’t even pretend

    that the fear of the coming one

    doesn’t outweigh the cheer.

    How do I celebrate

    a future where we can’t

    agree to be different

    and still live in harmony?

    How do I look forward

    to another year

    of hate and policy

    thrown about haphazardly,

    leaving only those like you and me

    standing under the terror rain?

    How do you play along,

    pretend everything’s okay,

    celebrate a holiday

    that only marks the turning of years

    and never the growth of humankind?

    You must be out of your god damn mind.

    Give me something worth celebrating,

    and with you, I will cheer.

    Until then,

    I already have something worth fighting for,

    so I won’t be blinded

    by your unwarranted holiday.

    Comment one thing you’re refusing to celebrate blindly this year, and why. Or Share one value you’re carrying into the new year even when it costs you comfort.

    Up Poet’s Note

    This poem came from watching joy be weaponized.

    From seeing celebration demanded from people who are actively being harmed by the systems others toast.

    Hope isn’t confetti.

    Optimism isn’t obedience.

    Refusing to cheer doesn’t mean refusing to live.

    Sometimes it means choosing clarity over distraction.

    If this poem sounds like someone you know, someone exhausted by forced positivity, someone whose survival keeps getting labeled as “too political”… Share this with them. Or send it to the person who keeps telling you to “just focus on the good” while ignoring the cost.

    Not every new year deserves applause.

    Some deserve resistance, honesty, and memory.


    If you’d like to support work that pushes acceptance, hope, and the refusal to accept inequality when it counts! Consider a donation via CashApp, PayPal, Ko-Fi, or Buy Me a Coffee. This helps to keep our projects and community thriving.


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  • Creative, Moral, and Queer Influences in my Life

    Creative, Moral, and Queer Influences in my Life

    Who are the biggest influences in your life?

    Influence isn’t just who inspires you when things are going well.

    It’s who shaped your voice, your spine, your boundaries, and your refusal to shrink.

    Some influences teach you how to speak.

    Some teach you how to survive.

    Some teach you exactly what paths you will never follow.

    This is a living map.

    Creative Influences, Where the Art Found Me First

    Before I ever understood craft or branding or audience, I understood feeling.

    These artists didn’t just make music. They made permission.

    Hobo Johnson, Poetry Wearing a Hoodie

    Hobo Johnson’s work feels like overhearing someone tell the truth in a grocery store aisle.

    His lyrics read like spoken word wrapped in everyday chaos, anxiety, longing, humor, and self awareness.

    He takes ordinary moments and pulls the emotional thread until it hums.

    That taught me something crucial, you don’t need spectacle to be powerful.

    You need honesty and timing.

    That influence shows up in my work when I write about small moments that carry heavy weight, the quiet details that hit harder than a scream.

    NF, Naming the Darkness Without Letting It Win

    NF’s influence is about how to talk about pain.

    He never glamorizes struggle, he dissects it.

    Mental health isn’t aesthetic in his music, it’s work, confrontation, accountability, growth.

    He shows that vulnerability and strength can occupy the same body.

    That mattered to me.

    Especially in spaces where pain is often exploited instead of processed.

    Snailmate, Experimentation as Survival

    Snailmate taught me that you don’t have to choose between chaos and intention.

    Their sound is loud, fast, sharp, playful, and deeply self aware.

    Genre lines collapse. Identity is fluid. Lyrics cut and dance at the same time.

    That influence lives in my refusal to make my work palatable for comfort.

    Art is allowed to be strange.

    It’s allowed to be fun.

    It’s allowed to be unclassifiable.

    Mayday Parade, Raw Emotion Without Apology

    Mayday Parade doesn’t flinch from emotional exposure. Mayday parade is an emotion.

    Heartbreak, longing, grief, regret, hope, all of it laid bare without irony.

    That sincerity taught me that earnestness isn’t weakness.

    Sometimes the bravest thing is to say, this hurt me, and I’m still here.

    Moral Integrity, Learned Early and Reinforced Daily

    Some of the deepest influences aren’t artists.

    They’re examples.

    My Mom, Teaching Me Who Deserves Respect

    My mom taught me integrity by living it.

    She didn’t make speeches. She modeled it.

    She worked in the IDD community and brought me with her.

    I learned early that difference is not deficiency.

    She had a lesbian best friend when that still made people uncomfortable in the early 70s and through her entire life.

    She defended people others dismissed.

    She showed up for the underdog because someone always needs to.

    That shaped how I see people, how I refuse hierarchy based on identity, and why I don’t negotiate on dignity.

    The Elders Who Helped Me Become Myself

    When I came out, it wasn’t a clean or singular moment.

    It was a series of brave, terrifying steps.

    Queer elders stepped in where systems didn’t.

    They helped me cut my hair when I was shedding an old version of myself and stepping into my next identity: Lesbianism.

    They helped me rebuild a wardrobe that felt like home in my skin masculine clothes and hair way back then. When I didn’t understand I could become a man, and I thought that was the only option. So I made it fit.

    The next group of elders taught me about binders, safety, autonomy, and peer groups.

    They connected me to doctors, surgeons, information, and access when I moved to Vegas and after.

    They didn’t just help me transition.

    They helped me survive transition.

    They showed me what chosen family looks like when it’s rooted in care. They taught me that the people from before who didn’t accept me now never were really my friends.


    Comment and share what influenced your creativity, your morals, or who not to be?

    Do you have influences elsewhere in your life you’d like to mention? Those are fine too. We appreciate your input and conversation.

    The Influences I Learned From by Rejection

    Not all influence pulls you forward.

    Some pushes you away from becoming something you refuse to be.

    My Father, Absence as a Lesson

    My dad had enough to give more and chose not to.

    That absence was instructive.

    Not in bitterness, but in clarity.

    It taught me that providing isn’t just financial.

    It’s presence, responsibility, and showing up when it’s inconvenient.

    I learned what abandonment looks like.

    And I learned that I will never replicate it.

    Political Power That Chooses Harm

    Watching the Republican political party in power push policies that strip rights from immigrants, migrants, people of color, disabled people, LGBTQ people, and start wars for wages. Then they ignore or enabling actual predators which is not abstract.

    It’s personal.

    It’s dangerous.

    That contradiction taught me vigilance.

    It taught me to question authority, to read policy, to listen to who is harmed and who is protected.

    It shaped my refusal to separate politics from lived reality.

    Because people live inside laws.

    Influence doesn’t end with what shaped us.

    It continues with what we pass on.

    I carry poetry, music, elders, integrity, and hard lessons into my work because someone else might need that map.

    Someone else might be standing where I once stood, looking for permission, language, or a way through.

    We don’t get to choose all our influences.

    But we do choose what we become because of them.

    If this piece made you think of:

    A queer kid who needs proof they won’t be alone, An artist struggling to trust their voice, Someone unpacking family, faith, or politics with honesty, or Anyone learning how to build themselves from what they were given.

    Share this with them to remind them they’re allowed to exist fully, loudly, and with intention.

    Where you will find real people, unfiltered language, and rough-edged art. Submit to the next Poeaxtry Prism quarterly by form or email Poeaxtryspoetryprism@gmail.com


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  • 100 Days of Poems- Day 9: “Pain on Purpose”- Things Love won’t do

    100 Days of Poems- Day 9: “Pain on Purpose”- Things Love won’t do

    TW- Topic is Physical Abuse in intimate relationships if that’s too much today save this for another day.


    Some literary and visual artworks are written slowly, over weeks, shaped by distance and reflection.

    Others arrive all at once, urgent, sharp, and unwilling to wait.

    This piece lives in that second category. It speaks to intentional harm, to the lie that pain can be justified by love, and to the quiet danger of staying when leaving feels impossible.

    Pain on Purpose exists to name what should never be normalized.

    Pain on Purpose

    I wish I could say

    I didn’t quite

    understand

    why

    you

    chose to believe

    purposeful pain

    could come

    from an

    individual who truly loved you

    Actions

    aligned more with

    their same behavior

    after anything they claim they own

    isn’t fucking flawless

    Love doesn’t

    look like

    this

    Eyes swelled shut

    will hopefully heal soon,

    allowing insight

    to guide you toward leaving,

    or

    you may lose your life

    Human hands held hopes

    now

    positioned painful, precise punches,

    willingly wronging you without worry.

    Did a part of this piece hit you, linger a little longer, or spark a line of your own? Leave a comment with the feeling that stayed the longest/hit the hardest/ came out of the blue, or the thought it created. No need to explain your pain to engage with this work. Presence is enough. All commenters interactions welcomed and appreciated.

    Poet’s Note

    This poem was written in response to witnessing the ongoing cycle of relationship abuse and the silence that so often surrounds it.

    Abuse does not always happen behind closed doors, and it does not always stop when there are witnesses. What stays with me is not just the violence itself, but the way people look away, rationalize, or convince themselves it is not their place to intervene.

    The phrase “purposeful pain” matters here. Abuse is not accidental. It is not a misunderstanding. It is a choice made repeatedly, reinforced by control, fear, and isolation. This poem speaks directly to the myth that love can coexist with intentional harm. It cannot. Or that staying leads to the abuse stopping. It doesn’t. Love does not require endurance of violence to prove loyalty. Love does not demand silence to survive.

    Writing this was not about offering solutions or advice. It was about naming the danger plainly, without euphemism, and refusing to soften what is already too often minimized.

    Pain on Purpose is a reminder, to anyone who needs it, that harm disguised as love is still harm. Survival should never require shrinking, hiding, or accepting violence as the cost of connection. Poetry cannot stop abuse on its own, but it can tell the truth out loud, and sometimes that truth is the first crack in the wall.


    If you know someone who creates work that calls out abuse, enjoys work that speaks support to those who feel weak, or needs to be held by words that refuse to lie, please share this poem with them. Let it move where it needs to move.


    Hey, One Last Thing Before You Go..

    If you love poetry that calls out many forms of abuse. For example highlighting victims of political, intimate, financial, emotional, economic, and other forms of abuse in uplifting and resourceful ways. Or if you love supporting honest, independent publishing, please consider donating to help sustain our penned pain, pleasure, peace, positivity, and publishing projects.

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  • Political Views- And Changing As I Became An Adult

    Political Views- And Changing As I Became An Adult

    How have your political views changed over time?

    Political beliefs do not usually explode overnight. They seep. They shift. They crack quietly, then all at once you notice the entire thing shifted. The same thing usually goes when we notice any change. Mine did exactly that.

    Childhood Beliefs

    As a kid, I was patriotic in the way kids are taught to be patriotic. Loud. Certain. Clean. I stood for the Pledge of Allegiance without thinking twice. I believed the United States was the best country in the world because that was the only option I was ever given. I supported the war in Iraq because the adults around me did, because the news said we were protecting freedom, because flags were everywhere and fear was louder than nuance. I sang patriotic songs from people like Toby Keith.

    Young Adulthood

    I wanted to join the Air Force. I wanted structure, purpose, a uniform that meant something. Later, I even thought I wanted to be a cop. I studied criminal justice. I believed in law, order, and the idea that justice was something you could train into people if you followed the rules hard enough. Which actually lead me to believe even more radicalized than I already was as a young transgender man. I thought I could graduate with a degree become a cop and change the entire system. Me just one man. I had big dreams I still do. Just not those ones.

    Adulthood

    As an adult life gained nuance and truth with experience. I now understand propaganda. More importantly I understand power and who typically had it. Through learning all of this I understand myself more and my wants more.

    This is not a redemption arc. This is a record of unlearning.

    Growing Up Patriotic, On Purpose

    My early political worldview was not accidental. It was engineered.

    Schools taught compliance before curiosity. Stand up. Hand on your heart. Repeat the words. Do not ask why. Bow or curtsy. Television framed war like a necessary sacrifice, not a calculated decision. The soldiers were heroes, the enemy was faceless, and the reasons were always simplified into good versus evil.

    As a child, I absorbed that without resistance. I supported the war in Iraq because I did not know what imperialism was. I did not know how oil shaped foreign policy. I did not know how easily fear can be weaponized when wrapped in red, white, and blue. Now I notice blending these colors forms a bruise kind of like we leave every where we go.

    I believed service equaled morality. I believed uniforms meant integrity. I believed authority existed to protect.

    Those beliefs did not come from critical thinking. They came from repetition.

    Wanting to Serve, Wanting to Belong

    The desire to join the Air Force was not just about patriotism. It was about belonging. About being part of something bigger. About having a role that came pre-approved, pre-valued, and pre-respected.

    Later, when that shifted into wanting to be a police officer, the logic stayed the same. I wanted to help. I wanted to keep people safe. I believed the system worked because I had not yet seen how selectively it worked.

    Studying criminal justice cracked that illusion faster than anything else. This was the same time the murder of George Floyd was happing so my own lived experiences were ripping apart the seams of what I thought was true.

    The deeper I went into the material, the harder it became to ignore patterns. Who gets arrested. Who gets sentenced. Who gets believed. Who gets forgiven. The answers were not random. They were structural. My lived experiences at this time were echoing this. The story’s from my friends, the stories in the news they echoed the same thing the books did.

    I walked away from the career.

    Not because I was lazy. I was paying attention.

    Education Did Not Radicalize Me, Reality Did

    There is a popular myth that education brainwashes people into being critical of the state. That is backwards.

    Learning exposed the contradictions that were already there. While lived experiences showed the full truth.

    I learned how laws are written, who they benefit, and who they harm. I learned how policing evolved, not as a neutral force, but as a tool of control. I learned how prisons function less as rehabilitation and more as warehouses for poverty, mental illness, and systemic neglect.

    Once you see that, you cannot unsee it.

    I could not reconcile the version of justice I was promised as a kid with the version I was studying as an adult.

    So I stopped pretending they were the same thing.


    If you were raised to believe something politically that later fell apart, what was the first crack for you?
    Was it education, identity, loss, or seeing the system up close?
    Comment with the moment that made you stop and rethink everything.

    Understanding Propaganda for What It Is

    Propaganda is most effective when you do not know it is propaganda.

    It taught me that war was necessary, not profitable. That American violence abroad was defensive, not strategic. That questioning authority was ungrateful. That loyalty mattered more than truth.

    Now I understand war as business. Oil. Resources. Influence. Power disguised as protection. I understand that young people are recruited through patriotism because it is cheaper than honesty.

    I do not romanticize service anymore. I do not confuse sacrifice with morality. I do not believe harm becomes noble just because it wears a uniform.

    That shift was not cynical. It was clarifying.

    Queer, Not Just LGBT, If You Know You Know

    Coming into my queerness reshaped everything.

    Not the sanitized, corporate version of LGBT that gets rolled out during Pride Month. Queer, as in disruptive. Queer, as in refusing neat categories. Queer, as in living outside the narratives that were built to control bodies, families, and futures.

    Being queer taught me that the system was never built with me in mind. That my safety was conditional. That my acceptance depended on how quiet, palatable, and profitable I could be. Coming out as trans really opened up my eyes to this.

    You do not grow up queer and still believe the state loves you unconditionally.

    Once you realize your existence is political by default, you stop pretending politics are abstract.

    Why I No Longer Believe in “The Best Country” Myth

    Believing you live in the best country in the world requires comparison, honesty, and accountability. I was taught the phrase without any of those things.

    Now I understand that calling a country “the best” while ignoring its violence, inequality, and exported harm is not pride. It is denial.

    I can acknowledge where I live without worshipping it. I can critique systems without hating people. I can want better without pretending we are already there.

    Patriotism that cannot survive criticism is not loyalty. It is fragility.

    Walking Away From Uniforms and Authority

    I no longer want to join the military. I no longer want to be a cop. I no longer believe authority automatically equals protection.

    That does not mean I reject responsibility or community care. It means I understand that safety does not come from domination. It comes from resources, equity, and accountability.

    I refused to participate in systems I no longer believed were just.

    That choice cost me the easy path.

    It gave me integrity.

    Where My Politics Live Now

    My political views today are rooted in skepticism, compassion, and lived experience. I know the left and the right are two sides of the same system. I know when democrats get elected we pause and when republicans get elected they more shit more to the right. I am leftist scum. I am not a democrat. I am not a liberal. I am anti capitalist.

    I question power. I center marginalized voices. I reject simple answers to complex harm. I understand that systems can be designed to fail certain people on purpose.

    I believe liberation is collective, not individual. I believe survival should not require conformity. I believe queerness, art, and dissent are forms of resistance.

    I am not neutral. I am informed.

    My political views did not change because I was influenced by trends. They changed because the stories I was told as a child collapsed under the weight of reality.

    I grew up pledging allegiance. I grew into asking questions. I grew out of believing violence equals virtue. I grew into understanding that propaganda thrives on silence and obedience.

    This evolution is not something I regret. It is something I earned.

    And I am still learning.



    If this hit uncomfortably close, share it with someone who is still where you used to be, or someone who is unlearning alongside you.
    Not to argue. Not to convert.
    Just to remind them they are not broken for changing their mind, and neither are you.

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  • Poem day 8/100: “Failing, Badly” – America the Blind- visceral poetry

    Poem day 8/100: “Failing, Badly” – America the Blind- visceral poetry


    This is my day 8 poem for the 100 poems in 100 days contest started on threads. Here I am exploring the intersections of political power, personal trauma, and societal complicity. “Failing, Badly” titled after the ending of the merry Christmas post on his social site truth social. This poem confronts the shocking realities of public figures’ actions and the collective silence that allows abuse to continue, using visceral imagery and direct language to provoke reflection and outrage. Content warning mention on CSA and Incest aligned thinking! Do not proceed if you are not comfortable being uncomfortable.


    “Failing,badly”

    I began to wonder

    seeing repeats of Donny’s

    “truth” on December 24.

    Radical leftists scum.

    Would if he’d stop

    riding our asses if we

    pretended not to care

    little girls make him cum.

    Visceral visual

    disgusting

    disturbing

    America the brave

    Where are they?

    Failing badly

    Or

    They transitioned to

    America the

    Blind.

    To trump voters the

    Mother’s and Father’s

    Of girls, who voted him in

    I have a

    Question

    How’d you vote for a man who

    publicly makes taboo statements

    About his own

    Kid?

    “if Ivanka weren’t my daughter, perhaps I’d be dating her.”

    Admitting to reoccurring times of

    Bring up Incest adjacent

    Attraction

    on the tv screen

    Now cheer for your President.


    Did this make you wince, get pissed, or something more? Drop what feelings it stirred in you in the comments or even other things it reminded you about.

    Poet’s Note:

    I wrote this poem in response to the resurfacing of statements made by Americas first king that should disturb any human conscience. It’s intentionally loud, intentionally uncomfortable. The poem uses repetition, short lines, and stark imagery to mimic the emotional jolt of confronting truths that the people who could stop this, or care often ignore. I hope it sparks conversation, reflection, and a refusal to normalize abuse.


    “Failing, Badly” is a call to awareness and accountability. It is not enough to witness wrongdoing and look away. Poetry can amplify discomfort and force reflection. This I feel can be an essential step toward change. America must confront the failures of its leaders and the complicity of its change makers and citizens, before history writes another chapter of moral collapse. Notice each one is worse than the last as history progresses? We have got to do better!

    Share this poem if you please let it travel like wildfire and reach the ones who need to see it, feel it, or wrestle it. Poetry and truth deserve no quiet corners.

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  • Poeaxtry creative expression: Poetry, Curated Collections, Freebies, Design, and Community Care

    Poeaxtry creative expression: Poetry, Curated Collections, Freebies, Design, and Community Care

    How are you creative?

    With Poeaxtry and the Prism creations creativity is not a single act, it is a network of choices, practices, and systems that produce many works with multiple meanings. Works are over time, across forms, mediums, and or lived experiences. I create through many different types of poetry collections, digital magazines, short stories, multiple curated freebies, visual design, blogging, ritual, craft, indie publishing, and community building.

    These practices all are used in a way that is reinforcing the others, each project designed for future forward thinking, accessibility, and connecting with others.

    This post will document how I am creative in action, not theory, and then it shows how a multi-disciplinary practice generates advocacy, community care, and minority motivation through creativity.

    Comment below the different ways you are creative or centered in community care! Let’s share and grow together!


    Poetry

    Poetry is the foundation of my creative practice, spanning themes like grief, politics, intimacy, survival, love, joy, and refusal,(just to name a few) across collections, digital freebies, quarterly zines, and ongoing work. I design every poem to function as a standalone piece, a thematic entry in a collection, or any spark of line that pops in my mind. I use observation, memory, emotional truth, and craft to transform experience into language, shaping rhythm, meaning, resonance, and reader reflection.

    Watpadd Quotev Booksie portfolio Poetizer

    Etsy payhip gumroad kofi Amazon


    Digital Free Quarterly Magazine

    The digital free quarterly magazine is a curated, layered, intentional creative project. That may include poetry, short prose, essays, visuals, ads for indie creatives etc, contributor work, and more sequenced for rhythm, accessibility, and community care. This is designed in Canva Pro, hosted webpage, serving as both community collaboration and minority movement. All indie and minority inclusions free to build and include work.

    Minority/ Marginalized community members may submit up to 10 poems, 10 art pieces (digital or photographic high definition), 2 prose, and or 2 essays . Allied creators with supportive works may submit 1/2 of the above cap. Submit by emailing poeaxtry@gmail.com or form.


    Short Stories

    Short stories one of the newer creative avenues in my experimental creative endeavors. These allow narrative exploration beyond poetry, experimenting with pacing, tension, voice, drafted, refined, and launched when the right format is finalized. Genres including horror-gore, splatter-punk, and or erotica layered together and creating space to confront fear, power, or boundary.


    Refusal as Creative Act

    Refusal in itself is a creative decision, choosing to publish, without willingness to conform. To continue holding space for deeper work, rejecting exploitative trends, building sustainable creative practices, preserving integrity, impact showing in project longevity, audience trust, and the ability to iterate without compromise, commas marking pause, consideration, deliberation.


    Hiking and Observation as Source Material

    Hiking and observation provide primary source material for different poems, blog posts, curated content, imagery, narrative inspiration, and more. Documentation through hiking journals, photos, videos, emotional reflections in authentic detail, and more.


    Systems and Strategy as Creative Problem Solving

    Systems and strategy turn scattered creative work into sustainable practice, organized collections, managing different free and paid offerings, streamlining digital publications, maintaining workflow across multiple platforms, ensuring creative output, and more


    Visual Design as Storytelling

    Visual design communicates narrative and tone, from digital magazine layouts, cover art, artistic spacing, typography, color, visually themed elements across collections, poem images (full poems or selected lines posted on socials/ website) . These things work to reinforce the emotional impact of literary work, and are designed in Canva Pro for consistency, readability, and aesthetic clarity.


    Blog Writing as Living Documentation

    Blog writing captures process, reflection, and documentation of ongoing creative practice, hikes, local outdoor historical or artistic places, calls for arc readers/ collabs/ street team and more, emotional journals, daily and random prompts, newsletters & small project memos, free indie spotlights, minority positivity, call outs of people in the media/ politics promoting bigotry, poems, and much more.


    Community Building as Collaborative Art

    Community building is creative labor, curating contributors, centering minority voices, hosting collaborations, structuring submissions, balancing recognition and visibility, creating interactive spaces, creative contests, giveaways, planning virtual and local open mic nights, and more.

    Submit Collaboration proposal, manuscript, art book, etc for Publishing by emailing poeaxtryspoetryprism@gmail.com or form. Volunteer to Mod community spaces or curation etc for community collabs and more email poeaxtry@gmail.com or submit this form


    Ritual and Spellwork as Intentional Design

    Ritual and spellwork translate intention into structured action, combining symbolism, timing, materials, and purpose. This are made to impact both maker and recipient.

    Physical items tarot & pendulum readings on gumroad and payhip


    Handmade Craft as Grounded Creation

    Handmade craft embeds creativity in the physical, tactile, and material, including rockhounding, tumbling, polishing, lapidary art, jewelry design and making, keychains, wands, wreaths, windchimes, natural sprays, tinctures, beanies, shirts, hybrid print pamphlets, small printable/ digital use zines, and much more. By creating functional objects from raw stone, bones, crystals, wood, herbs, and more, design reflects manifestation/emotion/ etc.

    Etsy


    Indie Publishing as Architecture

    Indie publishing is the architecture that holds all creative output, from solo collections, poetry, collaborative projects, structuring, sequencing, designing, optimizing, and distributing work, ensuring longevity, discoverability, and accessibility.

    I am creative through layered, intentional practice, through poetry, digital publications, short stories, hiking, visual design, blogging, rituals, craft, and indie publishing, each practice informing the others, each project structured for longevity, visibility, and impact, connection, the ongoing evolution of work, creativity as living, adaptive, functional. These are all deeply embedded in process and practice.


    Send this post to a friend who you think would be interested in submitting to a no denial based on artistic taste submission.


    Align with our morals, ethics and or our community centered care? Support the poet and his pen here : ko-fi buy me a coffee cashapp PayPal


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  • Cozy Corners, Tent Retreats, and Hammock Escapes- Perfect Places for Poetry

    Cozy Corners, Tent Retreats, and Hammock Escapes- Perfect Places for Poetry

    You get to build your perfect space for reading and writing. What’s it like?

    Break The Rules

    Everyone has a dream space that makes writing or reading feel effortless, immersive, like the world slows down just for your thoughts. I don’t just have one perfect idea…

    I’ve got a few, each with its own vibe and rhythm. I’ve planned them with details that spark comfort, focus, and a little luxury for the senses.

    The Ultimate Cozy Beanbag Retreat

    Imagine a beanbag chair so big it could swallow me, my dog, and still leave space to sprawl. I’d choose a Luvsack-style one, extra soft and indulgent, it probably has a pocket. Or a few even.

    Next to it, a small stand holding water, hot tea, and something caffeinated… because balance, obviously. Candles flicker around the room, scents like warm vanilla and honey. Or a seasonal smell. I do not want overwhelming, just sweet or soft scents. Plushy arm chairs and blankets cover empty spaces, squishy stuffed animals as well… perfect for sinking in.

    Somewhere, a Bluetooth speaker plays string instrumentals, Lindsey Stirling, maybe, or someone in the same genre.

    A mini-fridge hums quietly in the corner, a small cabinet of snacks within reach… a cocoon of comfort designed for hours of uninterrupted creation with seating options for collaboration or body doubling solo projects with others.

    My Nomadic Tent Writing Retreat

    Then there’s freedom. A 660-pound capacity tent on stilts, my partner’s anniversary gift to me that can go anywhere.

    Well anywhere… flat. In the woods, near a lake, a field, in the backyard, anywhere that lets me exist for a few days at least. Inside, it’s just me, my thoughts, a sleeping mat, and comfort items . Oh luna too

    A portable writer’s retreat where I can walk, write, think, and reset. The tent moves with me, flexible as my inspiration, bridging home comforts with the wild serenity of outdoors.

    I want to hear your version… if you could design your perfect reading or writing space without limits, what would it include? Odd little details, big indulgences, scents, sounds anything else? Tell me everything you would do in the comments.

    Hammock Spaces

    Then last but not least simplicity and air. Anywhere a hammock can be strung, I can write or read as long as the weather allows, noise levels permitting but that goes for the tent too.

    A Gentle sway, sunlight through leaves, a breeze against the skin, and the hum of quiet life outside… these moments are delicate, fleeting, perfect for capturing thoughts that demand stillness and clarity.


    These spaces are my dream perfect sanctuaries. I designed for focus, creativity, and comfort. I enjoy quiet, nature, comfort, softness, and subtle things.


    Share this post with someone who lives for writing or reading in immersive spaces, someone who’d love to dream up their own retreat… let’s plant seeds of creativity to bloom.


    If things like honest work, real people, unfiltered language, and rough-edged art explain you or what you create…

    Submit to the next Poeaxtry Prism issue by form or email Poeaxtryspoetryprism@gmail.com


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