Friday, March 17, 2023

Barbarian Tears

When the demon inside reaches postmortem status

When the time comes to lay down your blood-soaked axes

When your war cry to the heavens is only a whimper

When your tree-trunk legs get limper and limper


Let the river of salt flow freely from your eyes

Let your inner war hammer crush Manosphere lies

Let your war-torn soul cycle through the emotions

So you don’t live day to day going through the motions


There’s nothing wrong with crying, regardless of gender

When you’ve spent so long being the strongest protector

When your deadliest attackers pass the gates of hell

When the smell of death leaves you nauseous and unwell


There’s no such thing as never-ending strength

There’s no such thing as a limited time length

When the burden you carry lives on forever

Unleash the thunderstorms and waterfall weather


The monsters and tyrants will laugh as much as they want

Even they have empty souls behind the violence they flaunt

Someday they will learn what vulnerability means

Even if their abusers never passed on those genes


Nobody leaves this life without a festering wound

That eats away at the flesh before they enter the tomb

That eats away at the mind like disease-carrying rats

The scars never get better, they only grow fat


Don’t take your pain to the other side of life

Don’t bottle the trauma that cuts like a knife

Your tears will grow the most beautiful plants

Leave behind a greener world when others can’t


You won’t be remembered as a laughing stock jester

But they’ll be remembered as angel molesters

You’ll be treated like a god for generations to come

Leave a legacy of love with your trail of blood

"Reflections on Healing" by Rachel Oates

BOOK TITLE: Reflections on Healing

AUTHOR: Rachel Oates

YEAR: 2022

GENRE: Poetry and Photography

SUBGENRES: Mental Health, Feminism, and Abuse

GRADE: A


Rachel Oates has always had a complicated relationship with poetry, whether she was critiquing it on her You Tube channel or writing some of her own. But through it all, her writing skills shine brilliantly in this collection of poetry. She explores uncomfortable topics through a sensitive lens. Even when the poems don’t have happy endings, they never feel exploitative. They feel like she’s being true to herself and using her hurtful experiences to help others who are going through the same thing. In addition to helping other victims, these poems are also a middle finger to anybody who would ever beat or degrade another human being through the façade of compliments and love-bombing. Rachel Oates fancies herself a rookie in the poetry genre, but you wouldn’t know that from how expertly she handles the written word. That alone is worth an A grade.


One of my favorite poems in this book is Romb, a title which is not a typo, but a well-crafted pun. She talks about having a room to herself only for judgmental neighbors and men in suits to condescend to her and tell her how she should live in it. This is all of course a metaphor for her womb and how pro-life activists are every bit as nosy and intrusive as the people judging her room. Rachel says in one of her videos that a goal of poetry is to find innovative ways to say what the poet wants to say. She certainly lived up to her own advice in this poem and that’s a recurring theme throughout the entire book. She may be a rookie, but she’s a student first and foremost and is therefore a serial learner who takes in so much creative fuel before starting her projects. Learning doesn’t stop after graduating college. She’ll no doubt take this knowledge with her if she decides to put out another book of poetry.


Another poem I enjoyed was the much more disturbing Puppet Master, where she once again uses innovative comparisons to describe a serious topic, this time being abused by one of her now ex-boyfriends. Oh sure, the puppet master has pretty dolls and he assures you that you’re the prettiest of them all, different from the others. And through this manipulation and psychological torture, you believe these lies while becoming made of wood and strings yourself, strings that leave bruises from being tightly bound, and wood that doesn’t move until the puppet master says so. Thankfully, the poem ends on a high note of Rachel leaving her boyfriend and starting the healing process. But man, does this poem hit me where it hurts the most. While I’ve only had two romantic relationships in my whole life and neither of them were that bad in hindsight, I did have other people in my life bombard me with hate and then suck up to me with love and compliments. Rachel and I may both be atheists, but we can surely agree that there’s a special place in hell for people who gaslight and abuse their loved ones.


Of course, the other genre this book falls under is photography. She definitely has been engaging in this craft for a long period of time, judging from how professional and expressive each photo is. I especially like the one she took of downtown Southbank. Then again, cityscape photography has always been fascinating to me, whether it’s the bright lights, cool water, or beautiful colors in the sky. Honestly, Rachel could take pictures of mundane objects and it would still be considered great art by virtue of her own artistic integrity and personal lens (no pun intended). That’s the mark of a true artist: you know who made the art because their personal voice and point of view shines through in the most recognizable way possible.


This book is less than a hundred pages long, so you can breeze right by it in no time at all. But the poetry and photography will stay with you long after the reading experience is over. I will remember Rachel Oates’s work for the rest of my life, not only because of the raw vulnerability, but also because of the skill in which she executes her writing. I look forward to more publications from her, just as I always look forward to her upcoming You Tube videos. She smashes the stereotype of You Tubers being cash grabbers when it comes to publishing books. She’s serious about her craft and she will prove it to you over and over again until it stays with you forever. Noticing a theme here? Nothing less than five stars. Brilliant and heart-wrenching!

Thursday, March 2, 2023

Bend the Knee

VERSE 1

Get ready to bend the knee to King Petty

Your legs already feel like a piece of spaghetti

You live in my head, now it’s time to pay rent

I don’t care if you can’t afford to eat again

Blow you out my nose like I’m allergic to pollen

Blow you out my ass, it ain’t coming out solid

Which one is more tyrannical: a landlord or a king?

Depends on if your begging even means a thing


CHORUS 1

Bend the knee!

Bow to me!

Take my heed!

Or else you bleed!


VERSE 2

My storybook soldiers are always so loyal

Your graves are soil for the mighty and royal

Grow the tree of woe, put you in the Jesus pose

Drive spikes in your feet, bleed all over your toes

Drive spikes in your hands, quit jerking yourself

Leaving you to die is good for my health

“King Petty, King Petty, will you show me mercy?”

Hell to the no, your blood makes me thirsty


CHORUS 2

Bend the knee!

I ignore your plea!

Are you shitting me?!

You’re still guilty!


VERSE 3

All I want to do is slam dance to my music

All you want to do is blow my dynamite fuses

All I want to do is write my violent stories

All you want to do is leech off of my glory

You demons take credit for all of my fame

As though you and I are created the same

You’re a schizophrenic voice telling me to quit

Your ass is gone after I take my morning shit


CHORUS 3

Bend the knee!

Suck up to me!

You’re still a flea!

Carrying a disease!

Brain parasite!

Fuck my dreams at night!

Bend the knee to me!

Because I’m always right!