STRAY GOLDEN There’s tragedy in the breakdown but foundation in my fingers. Moving up & down, transposed conversation, in the faith that decidedly lingers. The hues are clueing action and the traction tells of focal laymen, painted gold in dandelion amid exaggerated reason. The liberation of prosperous blessing stacks around ollied walls, and the movement… Continue reading STRAY GOLDEN
Tag: tribe
Out from Under the Boardwalk
Out from Under the Boardwalk If you said that you could hear my voice speaking through the seagulls at the beach, I would believe you. I’d tell you that if you stand in the right place at a specific time, Like say, When the crows fly home, You could forever embrace the talk of my… Continue reading Out from Under the Boardwalk
da Capo.
Something interesting happened tonight; I forgave myself for all those missteps, mistakes, misshapen moments. I forgave myself for looking twice before crossing the road, then three times, then an even dozen. I forgave myself for over-watching my own human-bound figure with such over-powering precision of intensity that at times, I lacked ability to move. I… Continue reading da Capo.
PART EIGHT
On the notion of illusion, I don’t speak of fact, I speak of Truth in algorithms of math. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I face the Wind that howls with me and whisper my Blues to be printed as Free. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ To surf with the echoes in the meadow, you see, would be genuine visions of gumdrops on trees.… Continue reading PART EIGHT
October
Watch now, Watch Free, View me explode. Tune in, Turn out, And prepare to reload. Create space between your fingers and grasp for the group, Don’t mention the colors you obtain for proof. Lie there, Lie still, Countless suspects foot the bill. Running red, The negativity spreads, The house becomes drenched in one, tiny threat.… Continue reading October
Ж
I am Kendra, & this is so–— I bellow it deeply & repeat costumes from my drawer. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ My well of emotions is from the whole of my control— I find it odd to label what is not of one’s own— Then why do I claim the words as mine known— when in actuality it… Continue reading Ж
The New Soma
Losing the notions we knew to keep, dying to draw a tie between crime and peace. Through sound, we arrived at a gathering of several, or nine. Sectored into distinctions, we saw that regeneration would take time. Writing by: Kendra Elisabeth Muecke STS9 Graphic by: Kendra E. Muecke & Ross William Merrill.
thepoliticsofkendra.com 