who may write softly,
while onward we bludgeon?
today, the government issued a warning to all would-be poets and writers. here are its contents in their entirety.
may all writers heed these words, as they make the difference between being read and the most terrible fate of all:
oblivion.
write about flowers,
write about the moon,
write about love,
write about trees,
write about rivers,
write about the sea,
write stunning tragedy of the fictional variety,
write from your senses,
write about all the beautiful things, but
please
don't dare question how you can enjoy them.
even while you watch bodies burn and turn to pulp, protestors shot in the street — wounded, blinded, killed — or internment camps and cop cities rising from the malnourished and underfunded belly of our most vulnerable streets.
you may see smoke looming in the distance, growing near, but
look over here!
a tulip blooms!
spring is ever nearer!
About the Creator
kp
I am a non-binary, trans-masc writer. I work to dismantle internalized structures of oppression, such as the gender binary, class, and race. My writing is personal but anecdotally points to a larger political picture of systemic injustice.
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Comments (11)
Fuck the G(estap)OP.
Beautifully written, KP
This. Was. Just. Brilliant. And necessary and sad and scary like some kinda orange tinged Orwellian nightmare..don't write about that, write about this..fuck them. Well done for always being a lovely and kind and forthright individual KP. Glad this got Top Story, it should get more really.
Whew, god how can I say this; I can’t find the words but I will try. This encompasses the feeling that collectively I think we are experiencing, your poem felt like a sigh of relief!!!
Powerful. THIS is what poetry is for!
Poignant dystopia
This is powerful and alarming, kp. Well done!
The turn at “please / don’t dare question how you can enjoy them” made my stomach drop — it felt like that exact pressure to keep things palatable while everything real is on fire just offstage. I kept thinking about how often beauty gets used as a distraction instead of a refuge, and how exhausting it is to be told which griefs are acceptable to name. When you wrote that last “a tulip blooms!” I read it as both bitter and heartbreakingly true — do you still believe there’s room for softness that doesn’t look away, or does softness always risk becoming compliance?
I’ve not achieved the inner cohesion to know what words will drip out when I write. Sometimes it’s the Tetris of a challenge that stops the chattering anger and fear, Sometimes it’s yet another unfinished piece where I try to vent that mess. Your piece is brilliant
You capture the insanity of this moment well - the dystopian horror of it. How tempting it is for art to be a mere distraction...when we all need to use our voices to call each other deeper into facing these evils. Thank you for being a truth-speaking voice through all of this - you're a real inspiration to me, friend. Not sure if you ever read this piece of mine, from a little while back? I would love to know what you think of it - I've been trying to form another piece to speak further about the evils of this moment, but have been really struggling to find the words. https://todaysurvey.today/poets/the-colors-and-christophanies%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/a%3E Thanks for all you do and are, kp!
What the actual ? Poppin poppies??? Freakin fascist flossflowers✨