Poeaxtry's Prism

Spell. Stone. & Sparks that Ignite Change

Tag: threads poetry

  • 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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  • 100 Poems in 100 Days, Joining the Threads Poetry Challenge With Ice

    100 Poems in 100 Days, Joining the Threads Poetry Challenge With Ice

    Every so often, a simple idea creates a creative avalanche. I’m hoping that this will be that.

    Write a poem a day.

    But do it for one hundred days.

    Then share it publicly.

    No paywall, no panel of judges, no polished submission packets, no gatekeeping. Just writers showing up where they are, writing through whatever weather they’re standing in.

    I’m joining in.

    Not because I want more pressure, or because I think productivity equals worth, but because poetry thrives on repetition, attention, and witness. A poem a day doesn’t have to be perfect. It has to exist. It has to respond. It has to mark time. It is practice, which we all have been told makes perfect!

    For indie poets, marginalized writers, and creatives working outside institutional publishing, challenges like this matter. They create visible momentum. They pull poetry out of private notes apps and put it back into conversation. They remind us that poetry isn’t precious, it’s necessary.

    This post documents my entry into the challenge, and it begins with day one, where else?

    Day One of One Hundred

    “Ice”

    It’s cold outside,

    my desire is on fire,

    something more just out of

    r

    e

    a

    c

    h.

    The plows came through these

    Appalachian city streets,

    though the ice stayed

    Immigrant mothers pray

    for their brothers,

    others try to feed their

    families.

    No matter the kind,

    crushed ice

    is my favorite.

    Poet’s Note

    This poem lives in the overlap between weather and policy.

    Between what freezes naturally and what is enforced.

    Ice shows up twice here. Once as winter, salt trucks, plows, and streets that look cleared but still aren’t safe. The other time as ICE, immigration enforcement, the quiet terror that doesn’t melt when the roads do.

    Crushed ice is impact. It’s aftermath. It’s what happens when something large and heavy moves through a place and leaves fragments behind.

    I didn’t want to explain the metaphor inside the poem. I wanted it to sit unresolved, because that’s how it exists in real life. Some people experience winter. Others experience surveillance. Sometimes it’s both, at the same time, in the same city.

    Why This Challenge Matters to Me

    Writing a poem every day for one hundred days isn’t about proving discipline. It’s about practicing attention. About letting the world interrupt me and answering back in language.

    As an indie publisher, poet, and community builder through Poeaxtry and The Prism, I care deeply about visibility for small voices, especially voices that don’t get invited into traditional literary rooms. A public challenge hosted on a platform like Threads lowers the barrier to entry. It lets poets write in public without asking permission.

    This is also about sustainability. One poem a day is manageable. It fits between work shifts, hikes, grief, anger, and ordinary survival. Over time, those daily poems become a record, not just of craft, but of living through a specific stretch of history.

    If you’re participating too, or considering it, this is your nudge. You don’t need permission. You don’t need an audience. You just need to start.

    One poem today.

    Then another tomorrow.

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