The Chaos Section Poetry Project

"Vox Poesis Est Vox Libertatis"

Poetry

  • Complicit

    We weren’t born to be quiet.We were born to name the stars,to howl at a fractured moonwhen the night closes in. Fear does not march in strength.It flails, desperate and wild,clutched by brittle handsthat fear losing their hold. Silence may be golden at times,complicit at others.Every stifled cry feeds the walls,each swallowed word drives roots… Continue reading

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  • It Didn’t Begin with Auschwitz

    “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes” – Mark Twain It didn’t begin with Auschwitz.It began with propaganda.With scapegoats,draped in slogans.With facts bent sideways,truth buried under headlines. It began with silence—editors fired,whistleblowers punished,truth-tellers turned into targets. With neighbors reportedfor the books on their shelves.With laws reshapedto serve power,not justice.With court orders ignored,and judges overruled—not… Continue reading

  • The Coronation of the Once and Present King

    Billionaires gather in crooked lines of hollow power,trampling one another for the privilege to lick the polished ring.Oligarchy on full display—any pretense of shame long discarded.Radiant fear masquerades as respect, a collective boot-heelgrinding deeper into the bent backs of the unwashed poor—another rung on the endless ladder built from splinters,sweat, and underpaid toil. The marble… Continue reading

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  • The Lonesome Death of Civil Discourse

    It begins quietly—an undertow beneath glass,small tremors brushing at the borders,a half-heard hum,a splinter of sound. By dusk, they emerge—a cast of jester-kings,brittle crowns catchingthe last slant of light. Faces blur in movement,voices tilt,stirring the stillness of quiet corners. They spill over,pressing against the mirror’s frail edge,where shadows convene to listen—or else drownin the flood… Continue reading

  • What I Be

    Originally published at The Chaos Section in 2013. I will be the sonof fathers good and bad.I will be the dadsomeone never had. I will be the laborerin factories big and small.I will climb and fall,and mortar my own wall. I will be the madmanin a suit of eccentricity,drowning in publicity—only true friends can find… Continue reading

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  • The Beginning

    Questions aren’t as plaguing when you know the answer is your choice. Free will reveals the unfolding of what each of us do with our voice. Continue reading