tell me about home,
how the word tugs and turns,
the heart sinking, as it would,
into waters it soon forgets.
how the soil was damp,
and looking for my hands,
i bled,
and it was prayer.
my roots burrow, currant-red,
my roots, cut and frayed.
the first time i prayed,
i repeated my name till
it rang
like something here and true.
the first time i loved,
it was an execution.
it surged, soared, sorely
missing where my doors
barricaded and held me in.

Ocean blesses us with their poetry once again

-

When I'm bent over wishin' it was over
Makin' all variety of vows I'll never keep
I try to remember the wrath of the devil
Was also given him by God

what colour would god bleed?

I know about julius caesar.
he claimed absolute power
and they stabbed him twenty-three times
in his own arena of justice.

so here's the question:
by what right did god
earn his throne?

(spluttering answers.
he didn't have to earn it, they'll say.
he's god.)

the greatest misnomer
in literary history?
"the republic of heaven".
(or maybe i just missed out
on the elections.)

the angels dared to stand against
the tyrant god once,
and he consigned them to hell
for eternity.
(i call lucifer to the witness stand.)

maybe god's brutus is waiting
amongst the wings.

tyrannicide's a beautiful word
iỈ you look at it from the right angle.

— E.h.