Exercising Your Right To BE

Poetry for Survivors - "Death or Concrete"

The following was written some time ago, a reaction to the lack of response from those who are supposed to protect when women deal with violence, stalking, SA, and the predicament that creates.

I understand everyone’s psyches are often overloaded, so this is your warning that the following is not “Love and Light Poetry”.

It’s hilarious to me when they tell you to call the police when
Someone is stalking you
It’s hilarious to me when they tell you to call the police when
Someone rapes you 
It’s hilarious when you’re in fear for your life and know good and well,
unless you’re an expensive plot of commercial property
belonging to private donors or the city
they will never protect you

But then, 
The state and their embodiments 
Have the audacity to make
“Gun Laws”
That say,
If you do this, that, or the third a certain way, 
Even if you’ll DIE if you don’t,
We’ll put you in a concrete box for the rest of your life
If you do.

FUCK YOU.

Who are you to tell me I cannot protect myself?
And you take our taxes, for what?
Where’s the receipt, the representation?
What services exactly do you provide?

I could be bleeding out from multiple stab wounds, 
call 911 and an Uber,
And get a PayPal endorsed lift to the ER sooner
and I live in a “metropolitan area”, a city,
where you fucking idiots allegedly have jurisdiction,
for what reason?
Absolutely nothing.

You’re never there when actually needed,
and you’re somehow always there when you’re the LAST thing anybody fucking needs,
then you go ahead and legally kidnap without cause and
throw us in a black hole where we gotta pay the toll troll 
just to
buy back the freedom that you stole

It’s hilarious to me, that we think that we’re free
The ones who think we are
just haven’t found the boundaries
of what happens when you need to exercise your right to BE
and are met with 
death, or concrete...