Heavily irradiated historian developing my writing career. You can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, & Instagram. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
Just vote There’s no knife to your throat Just vote Who cares if you can afford your child’s new coat Just vote We need a new boat
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Poets
The game of life is rigged Death always wins Crawling on our fins Now obsessed with our sins From the dawn of rain
Pull the cap off What will you write today? An odious ode Of men sold to gold That smell of things so old Their story is no longer told
Today they say write about comfort But what do you do when all that should comfort you are set on destroying you? They say they love you
The first poem was written while visiting a friend recently. They were going through some rough times that I couldn’t help them with. I hope they enjoyed it, and it helped their spirits. I think you all will enjoy it as well.
By Atomic Historian4 years ago in Poets
They say my body, my choice When it’s their voice being heard But when others stand up for the same They have conspiracies to blame
Given the current circumstances, I felt it was necessary to update Martin Niemöller’s poem, “First they came…,” from 1946 for the new era we are in.
We once had hope But now we’re slung on a rope They’ve beaten our souls Wiped us clean With their legislative soap The parade is gone
The darkness crept in The light glowing before him He felt nothing And yet everything all at once The caffeine opening his eyes to the day
Books Some books are for looking Some are for nooking and cranning Others are for diligent disorganized planning
Goodnight brain Why am I up again? Who's the better Alfred? Michael Gough or Michael Caine? I don't care Michael Keaton is forever my Bruce Wayne
In the prison of souls There is no control It makes you a fool For answering the call Of its uplifting fall For all that are compelled by its draw
