The first thing I ever spit

There’s a demagogue running for president!

There’s a former Ku Klux Klan member running for Senate!

Klan? What do these senile, sadists know about Clanism?

About camaraderie, community, and compassion

Riveting stories around the fire, rites of passage, pueblos

Your neighbors party that the whole block is invited to

No, not your company’s annual continental breakfast

Or your sister’s husband’s tennis partner’s niece’s cotillion

Where are you from?

Who’s sorry womb relinquishes your existence?

And former? An ideal like that?

This rhetoric is the byproduct of unearthed wound

That has been festering for centuries

In this new found land and all the ones before it

Of human greed and natural darkness

That seeps into the mere mortal’s mind

And most still walk around like tombs

There is no justification for the violation of

Human identity

For white nazi supremacy

For the submissive nature

In the people of colour

You tyrants lust for

Aztec blood pulsates through my body

This consciousness is home to earth’s first realizations

Your ancestors have disowned you

You are in the earthly void when your

only claim is hate

Does my brown skin make you anxious?

The thing with you,

Puritan conditioned


Is that you associate my people with the primitive

Because we don’t care for cosmopolitan excess

Because our success doesn’t manifest into your

Cubicled idea of existence

There is a love so rich that resides in my motherland bred people

My bruised and bled, back bent atlas of a people

In two decades of existence

My body has always been synonymous to the inferior

My mind embraced by shackles placed

as soon as the first human claimed dominion over their brother

It seems we haven’t learned since

I grew up guilt ridden and tired

Most times I forget that I can explain this guilt, if I date it back in time enough

and that it does not belong to me

But it lives in your present day media, America

You never did give up that eurocentric fetish did you?

It lives in your educational institutions America

How you breed your faux progressives at coastal schools of thought

How you coddle your precipice millennials in your brand name religiously established schools

I spit on your soil


But then I go to Europe and that place is a fuckng circus

They’re  running out of arable soil, naturally

And our third world?

I heard in Thailand you still have to assert your superiority to the monkeys

Or they’ll kill you in your sleep

I also heard little asian girls and boys are abducted in their sleep to be part of the–

Ohhh you guessed it America

Your little side project in Vietnam, Korea, Thailand, Malaysia, Cambodia

Your soldiers, multinational corporations, and diplomat’s

Pleasure Playground

There is so much to revise, to create

I fear the anticlimaticacy of my species

I feel I have developed a comprehension and responsibility

To make the complacent uncomfortable

To take little cherubs under my wing

And unclothe the God that is their essence

Above this noise

This horrible noise

This dangerous noise that wants to build walls

Though people always tear them down

This dangerous noise that has a face

But it isn’t the one we see on TV

Or in the paper

It’s the one in the back of your head

In all of our heads

That’s caused holocausts, genocides, the guillotine

That ambushes humble villages with tanks

And, to be anticlimactic myself, and perhaps have given my contemporaries

no possible reassurance or silver lined solution.

I just wish to be alive when this whole place rebirths in Anarchy.


Well I wonder

If the uncertainty ever recedes

The sunshine bounces

The sunshine dances on

My eyelids

I go places looking for someone

Finding only a variation

Of the complacency I already


Do you know what it’s like to

Carry the trauma of your


To lament of their demise

Hold every record of 5th realm realization

oda a olga kokino

sé lo que debo escribir

lo que arde en las orillas

de mis huesos

odas al dolor de la existencia

testimonio de mis dos décadas

en este terreno humano

relatos de otras vidas metafísicas

en dimensiones nunca antes alteradas

que todavía toman refugio en mi piel

électricas, dándome pistas…

escribo y

un espíritú prisionero,

destacado desde las lunas

se arranca la sonda

sangrienta y drogada

de su boca

inundando el espacio

con su lengua consciente

recogiendo a su gente.

                                                    xx s.c

je crois

I believe in kindness

The kindness people give me

At heart we all possess the

Most human tenderness

Something pulsing that aches

But never quits transmitting


I am going to mass with

my beautiful professor

Then I will invite her for

Lunch because she is beautiful

She loves all things creative

All things human expanse

All things lovely

This means she is well aware

Of the void, the pain, the

Wreaking of weakness

Of our slowly dying bodies

Yesterday I performed a

Diane Wakoski poem for

My spanish acquaintances

I even got paid

It was absolutely lovely

I woke up today with

The most serene feeling




post europa

When the byproduct of

mass consumption is the

hyper-Expulsion of my

Indigenous brethren,

we, the so called Educated

the Intellectuals

the middle class

must mobilize our

conditioned Tongues against

the reigns of Abuse

against the most Pure people left.

When the small Spanish city I love,

Forces my contemporary Canadian friends

To spout their jesuit prayers before every meal…

When the inhabitants of this compact city

wear the same monochromatic apparel

Sit in the same park benches

every day

at the same time…

When nomads live here for some weeks…

We must share a communal responsibility

To force open the shackles

Of the ingrained tombs:

their anciently sculpted preconceptions

When little Asian girls are being gang dry humped

On discotec stages in bars made for rich kids on vacation

We must Dismantle the Fetishization of doll like Objects

In the minds of impulsive Boys

the Privileged

potential and proven Rapists

When countries are in exasperation

when the people cannot find fruitful Labour

The kindest Italian man approaches me,

helps me along traveller’s chaos

in hopes of accumulating 200 Euros

to return to Naples

I can’t help but repress a scream

that would surely scathe my throat

instead my heart

and pocket book

tear in compassion

seventh generation in the first world

Here I sit in the housing my mother afforded

Through pity or labor or racism or her body

I am here

And as I develop into my

Body’s occupation in this earthly havoc

It is not so drastic to think that maybe

I was there too

The crossing of imperial lines

The murder of my guerilla kin

By the hands of the men that

Exploit me here now

In this new found land

It was never theirs

And how long did it take me to profess that


I keep these truths tucked under my tongue

How I’ve been taught

To be satiated by holographic capital and

Material toys


I thought bugs were running down my chest

It was the shadow of rain falling

You look up words for beautiful in your thesaurus

When you pick me up in the morning

It is the first human exchange I am greeted with

Yet I refuse to share my thoughts with you in sentences

It should be effortless

It should be effortless

I feel like I know the rest

I haven’t written in months

August 1st, 2015

I feel whole today.

There’s something about waking up the morning before and exorcising any guilt in your heart, preparing a lovely breakfast, and doing what you want. I mean, not questioning it, just following your instinct and carrying out the mission of happiness without a second thought. In my case, it’s watching a heartwarming and comical japanese drama with my favorite snacks around for a few hours.

I just felt giddy all day and this might be due to the fact that I have intense mood swings but it felt so good. Having dinner with my family and not feeling anxious or awkward felt great. I even chose the absolute best company to end my day with!

The simplest things are enhanced when in good company. I accompanied my friend to walk his dog (which I seriously love more than 90% of humans, like, she just accepts me!), had a moving cigarette break with a new pal, watched a funny movie, went to a rad cafe and laughed more than I have all month, and had a token, lovely ride home with my musically synced friend.

I need to document this because it is a reminder that peace and coexisting is possible. That my spirit can settle. That I can learn such important things every day. That not all days are barren, hopeless, mundane. That I don’t have to be “stuck”.

I’m ending my day (it’s 2am) by listening to truly, one of the best playlists I’ve ever created. It’s absolutely lovely and titled “im cute”. By far, laziest title I’ve ever named an eargasm of mine. Please have a listen! Be happy! Imagine me prancing around joyously! The otherwise probably brooding anxious person! Yes! Life is cute n exquisite x

I’m going to read until I can’t keep my eyes open now.


Sarah xx

Feminism Must Be Anti-Racist

“If you are not willing to listen to others with different experiences and identities without putting yourself first, if you are not willing to look racism in the face, you really need to get the fuck out of the tent.”

Erin Matson

Recently, an acquaintance on Facebook upset several mutual friends with a post that started with an admission that every time someone says the phrase ‘white privilege,’ she laughs out loud. She went on to detail how, while she was a white woman, she has experienced a number of specific oppressions in her life and felt it was unfair to conflate her with white male bankers. She identifies vociferously as a feminist.

Also this week, I was pulled over for speeding (oopsie!) and waited in frustration as the officer spent seemingly forever in his car with my registration and license. When he came back, he gave me a warning and let me go. I’ll admit; I was a little frazzled. Earlier that day my daughter had fallen and hurt herself at school, and waiting in my car for the police officer meant I was getting more and more late to pick her up. I…

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Nicki Minaj was right: The biggest awards in music don’t go to women of color


Nicki Minaj called out MTV’s Video Music Award nominations earlier this week. Her music video for “Anaconda,” released last summer, wasn’t chosen as one of the 5 nominees for the night’s biggest award: Video of the Year. On Tuesday, I wrote that Minaj was right; her video should have been nominated. Shortly afterward, though, Taylor Swift — sensing that Minaj’s commentary could be a hit on her — responded to Minaj; attention was diverted. Suddenly the conversation was about white feminism and bad blood.

Minaj’s original point was lost: Women of color in music are often overlooked and under-rewarded for the work that they do. She was right about that, too.

Here’s the data:

We looked at the nominees and winners of the biggest awards handed out to individual artists (not bands) at the four biggest music award shows: the VMAs, the Grammys, the American Music Awards, and the…

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