Poem: Palinode to Happiness

If happiness was a person would it be mother
That vile person who filled our heads
With vile words of doubt that poison
A young mind with contempt for self
Before even knowing what self was

Poem: Oppression

Insidious undercurrents still run deep
Like hate filled tendrils wrapped tight
Around the heart of men believing
That there vision is the only one
That truly matters in the collection
Of voices that arise in opposition