Behind The Mask (October 13, 2018)

My soul

Lays before you

In judgment.

Although

Haven't done

Anything wrong.

Hatred and loathing

Flow from your words

And body language.

Antithesis

Personal beliefs

Come to life

You deny existing.

Calling yourself

“People politician

Working for the little guy”.

Anger and discord

Follows you

Personal dark cloud.

Half-truths outright lies

And negative stereotypes

Spreads your gospel

Unadulterated hate.

Media manipulation

Limited exposure

Avoiding flaws

Emperor's New Clothes.

Abundantly clear

People don't want reality

When seeking truth

Preferring edited fiction

Comforting worldview.

Therisa © 2018

Author's note: Another wee hours of the morning poem. My muse, rudely awakened me,

with a 3 am wake up call. Insisting that I write this out.

Sigh.

I'm not writing about Donald Trump, rather the emerging populist politician that’s gaining

power. Often, they're found on the right of the political spectrum, but not limited to this, as

Venezuela has proven.

This poem is written for the Poets United’s midweek motif, with abundance, as writing

prompt.

Giving A Name (October 12, 2018)

I write this

Personal knowledge/experience

(In abundance)

Living with mental illness.

Good days

Never know

Looking at me.

Dark days

Simple things

Near impossible task.

Overcoming barriers/stigmas

Society erected

Seeking help.

Wait lists-year or longer

Many programs

Budget cuts.

Reluctant CBT referral

Fought for it.

And yes

Transphobic psychiatrist

(They exist).

Best intentions

Paved Hell’s Highway.

Tough love-inspiration talks

Veiled personal attacks

Mental/physical character

Mistaken thought-motivating.

Delicate vase

Shatter-wrong word

Talking blocked.

Shunned-wrongly thinking

Typhoid Mary

Infecting everyone.

Sighing.

One in four people

Experience mental illness

Starting early teens.

Statistic-by eleven

Suicide attempt.

Globally

Little/no access care

800,000 suicides

Annually.

Therisa © 2018

Author’s note: On October 10, 2018, I came across The Guardian op-ed that Lady Gaga
and Dr Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus (Director-General, World Health Organization)
co-wrote for October 9th edition, marking World Mental Health Day. Here’s the link to
The Guardian op-ed:
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2018/oct/09/lady-gaga-mental-health-global-emergency-suicide

For The Record: For most of my life, I have struggled with various mental illnesses, without
realizing myself or those around me. In December 2007, I was officially diagnosed as being
chronically depressed, several anxiety disorders, agoraphobic, justifiably paranoid (I dispute
this, as the psychairist was transphonic) and PTSD. This psychological assessment was
ordered, as part of my application for Ontario Disability Support Program (ODSP), which
supports Ontarians with mental and physical disabilities. My application was approved after
2 months of being received by ODSP. Unusually fast, as they’re traditionally known to reject
applications on general principles. Guess, it helped that I had just come out of a homeless
shelter, in July 2007, when apply for ODSP.

This poem is written for the Poets United’s midweek motif, with abundance, as writing
prompt.

Taste Of His Own Medicine (August 25, 2018)

Fantasy

Possibly?

Donald Trump

Blocked tweeting/speaking

Trademark lies.

Locked away

Crimes against humanity

Without pardon/parole.

Deep within

Fort Leavenworth’s

Darkest and smallest

Prison cell.

Some say

Removing these privileges

Punishment enough.

Opportunist-like he

Plays on sentimentality

Using our guilt

Weapon against us.

Best off

Only audience

Rotating MP guards

Segregation cell checks

Meal deliveries

And exercise period.

Rather fitting

Given Zero Tolerance

To Latin American migrants

At U.S. southern borders

With the cramped quarters.

Enjoy your stay

Mr Trump

Know-I will.

Therisa © 2018

Author's note: I finished writing this, news of Senator John McCain’s death spreads. Leaving one less principle defender of the American people against President Trump. Written for Poets United’s midweek motif writing prompt: what if....

What If, It's Real? (August 25, 2018)

Poisonous game

Second guessing

Every decision.

Wondering

This right?

Reality unfolding

Nuanced ways

Dogma prioritized

Organize mobs.

Frustration and angry

Votes casted

AWOL system

Ignoring voters’ needs.

Switching elitist groups

For another.

Invoking

Long dormant hopes

In protest.

Delicate flower flourishing

Ever so briefly

In strong winds:

Obama presidency.

Reoccurring nightmare

Haunting America

Maybe?

Perchance

New opportunity

Experiencing the dream.

Therisa © 2018

Author’s note: In this coming US midterm elections, more women are running for
political office, as members of council, mayors, state legislature, and state governors.
And federally, for the House of Representatives and Senate.

Written for Poets United’s midweek motif writing prompt: what if....

Accepting Reality (August 23, 2018)

You demand

I surrender

To your Truth.

Regardless

Diametrically opposing

Personal/political values.

Branded

Antithetical heretic

Condemned sinner.

Sight-dogmatically blinded

Eyes-Heavens above

Walking-feet affixed

Mortal plane.

What if

You're wrong

In male-centric

Orientated world?

Male enforce

Nigh death-then life

Forgotten life's passion.

Rejecting change

Slipping reality grasp

Corruption institutized.

Paradigm shift

Only solution.

Therisa © 2018

Author’s note: This is my 3000th written poem. Written for Poets United’s midweek motif writing prompt: what if....

Different Faces Of Symbolism (August 13, 2018)

Visible hate object

Modern disease

In tribal hierarchy

Called nationalism.

As if

Draping flag

Buys dispensation

For murder genocide

And other crimes.

Territorially marking

Claimed land

By sewn cloth-ribbons.

Unlike animals

Using urine

Or musk glands.

Sigh.

Extended families staring

Ruined village

Blank eyes seeing

Yet not.

Stunned survivors

Search rumble

For memories

From destroyed past.

Dead become martyrs

Teaching another generation

Hate.

Sighing sadly.

Citizenship ceremony

Long journey end

For refugees and immigrants

To new land.

Opportunity-fresh starts awaiting

Building on hope and faith

Leaving troubles behind

Of a brighter future

And prosperity.

Waving paper flags

New citizens blinded

Exploding camera flashes

Broad grins

Family and friends.

“Attention!”

Mourners gather

Round grieving family

Openly weeping

Closed draped casket.

Hidden war casualty

PTSD suicide

Daemons won

Total system failure.

Honour guards

Rifles ready

Volleys fired

Slain soldier memory.

Commanding officer

Hands folded flag

With crisp salute

To family.

Therisa © 2018

Author's note: This is my third attempt at writing this poem. Abandoning earlier versions,
as being too much male bashing and hateful for what I wanted.

And yes, there is only one poem, this week.

Written for Poets United’s midweek motif writing prompt: national flag(s).