We all drink from the same pipes...
Let someone else make the connection today.
Please share 💧
👉 www.amazon.com/dp/B07QP36CWQ
#Shitolian #NoKings #PoetryDrop #BlackPoetryMatters #WordIsPower #Connection

What’s cheaper than gas or eggs?

Not water
Not today

grab some Shitolian

👉 www.amazon.com/dp/B07QP36CWQ

Please share… someone you know is having some bad weather today.

#Shitolian #PoetryThatHits #BadWeatherPoem #BlackPoetryMatters #WordTherapy #OPersaud #PoetryDrop #PoetryForThePeople

#PoetryDrop #SpokenWord #AIvsHuman #SpiritualPsychosis #PoetsOnFire #Substack #supportpoets #NewArtAle

they’ll know where to find us—
one saving a seat in the pew,
the other waiting in the street.
not holiness, exactly.
just something holy.

a dual drop by M. Allshouse & Michele Jones.
🖤

#PoetryDrop #TheyllKnowWhereToFindUs #Poets #PoetsOfBlueSky

💔 “Litany for the Tongue-Bitten Woman”—for those who swallowed pain and called it patience. (Substack)

🔥 “Long Live the King”—for the man who mistook the crown for virtue. (IG)

Link in bio

#PoetryDrop #LitanyAndLies #WordsByMAllshouse #PoeticRuin #EmotionalAlchemy

Power isn't inherited. It's carved out—scar by scar.
The teaser for Long Live the King is live. Full drop this Thursday on IG/FB.
#PoetryDrop #PoeticRituals #LongLiveTheKing #IndiePoet #WritingCommunity

A defiant poem about rejecting conformity and the quiet violence of societal expectations. I wrote it as a personal vow—something to hold onto when the world tries to sand down the edges that make us real. Things I Won’t Grow up to Be I won’t grow up to wear a borrowed face, A ghost who grins to bless what should be blamed. I won’t play dead to guard a dying place, Or hold my tongue to keep the wildness tamed. I won’t be sold in velvet-wrapped control, A statue built on silence and deceit. I won’t throw roses in a burning hole Or praise the boots that crush beneath their feet. I won’t be kind if kindness means obey, Or blur my name to fit inside their frame. I won’t be calm when cruelty has its say— If I go down, I’m going down in flame. I won’t be theirs. I won’t be bent or still. I am the storm that shatters what they build.

Hole I Can’t Face A poem about doing good things to keep darker thoughts at bay—using kindness as a bandage for an inner wound you’re afraid to confront. I wrote it to name that hidden motive and admit the hole is still there, no matter how much light I pour around it. Hole I Can’t Face They call me kind—a poet, father, friend, I give my change, I try to hold the line. But none of it was ever done to mend— I’m just afraid of what rots down in mine. I write so I don’t drink, I love to stall the beast that gnaws my ribcage every night. I raise the lost so I won’t hear the call that says I’m worthless if I drop the fight. Each good I do’s a bandage on the chest where something gapes that never healed quite right. I’ve learned to dress my cracks and call it blessed— a holy mask to make the pain polite. They see a light. But I just run this race to keep from staring at the hole I can’t face.

Sigh You’ll Do A poem about settling for temporary comfort when real connection feels out of reach—two people using each other to quiet their own dread. I wrote it to capture that hollow hush we call “good enough” when we’re too tired to face the mirror. Sigh You’ll Do It’s last call, neon bleeds like shame, you catch the eyes of someone wrecked. Not love—just hunger with no name, a soul too tired to self‑correct. You’re not her dream, she’s not your plan, but silence needs a body near. So settle in, like ghosts who ran from something breathing in the mirror. We fake connection, share a bed, to dodge the scream behind our face. We’re not in love—we’re just in dread, distracting from the human race. And come Monday, crushed and barely through— we’ll tell ourselves: “Well… you’ll do.”

Too Stupid to Be a Coward A poem about mistaking numb endurance for bravery—surviving blow after blow, not from courage but from a stubborn emptiness. I wrote it to admit that sometimes “strength” is just not knowing how to quit, even when quitting might save you. Too Stupid to Be a Coward They call it brave—the way I never flinch— but corpses don’t recoil when knives go in. I smile like rust, and every passing inch just carves a truer mask beneath the skin. A smarter soul would vanish in the smoke, would beg the night for mercy, lie, or drown. But I just watch—too gutted to provoke— and wear each blow like some deflated crown. There’s no reward for wounds you didn’t choose, no anthem for the damned who stayed too long. The fire came—I didn’t even bruise. No courage here, just marrow made of wrong. You think I walked through hell because I’m brave— I never learned to crawl into a grave.

Some of us didn’t heal. We adapted.
We stitched up the silence and kept walking.
These poems aren’t pretty—they’re proof.
Let your story outlive the silence.

#PoetryDrop #BlueskyPoets #poems #poetry
💙💙💙

Poems — AXIOM DAZE Discover the latest poems by E.G. Chambers, where introspection meets slow-burning depth, and quiet moments carry surprising weight. Known for blending poetic precision with a sense of nostalgia, Cham...

Just dropped a new poem, tap in! & Check back for new releases! www.axiomdaze.org/poems #poetrycommunity #newpoem #modernpoetry #softrebellion #futurenostalgia #introspective #creativewriting #poetrydrop #wordswithmeaning #quietmoment #emergingpoet

Beneath the sky, the ocean breathes.
Its waves remember what we’ve forgotten. 🌊✨
#oceanpoetry #natureverse #calmthoughts #AIart #poetrydrop #blueskywriters