Heavily irradiated historian developing my writing career. You can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, & Instagram. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
Wallflower standing there Feeling the energy in the air Life of the party Chained down by uncertainty and apprehension
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Poets
There’s work to be done Later we can have fun Emotions and desires Stuffed down To the point of drowning In our own fear
We were shaken When five lives were taken But one is not mistaken When they cheer For the one that took them from here
Just vote There’s no knife to your throat Just vote Who cares if you can afford your child’s new coat Just vote We need a new boat
The game of life is rigged Death always wins Crawling on our fins Now obsessed with our sins From the dawn of rain
Pull the cap off What will you write today? An odious ode Of men sold to gold That smell of things so old Their story is no longer told
Today they say write about comfort But what do you do when all that should comfort you are set on destroying you? They say they love you
By Atomic Historian4 years ago in Poets
The first poem was written while visiting a friend recently. They were going through some rough times that I couldn’t help them with. I hope they enjoyed it, and it helped their spirits. I think you all will enjoy it as well.
They say my body, my choice When it’s their voice being heard But when others stand up for the same They have conspiracies to blame
Given the current circumstances, I felt it was necessary to update Martin Niemöller’s poem, “First they came…,” from 1946 for the new era we are in.
We once had hope But now we’re slung on a rope They’ve beaten our souls Wiped us clean With their legislative soap The parade is gone
The darkness crept in The light glowing before him He felt nothing And yet everything all at once The caffeine opening his eyes to the day
