Modern Freedom Fighter
My heart’s song,
a desperate plea,
to restore my
mind, to set it free.
to speak without
first a nervous glance,
to joke without
risk of wrath.
I long for the
wild days of my youth,
Unobserved, wild
and uncouth.
Now a dissident
in the culture war,
A keyboard
warrior on every shore.
I hope someday
to again be free
from all forms
of leftist tyranny.
“Unplug, and go
outside” some say,
but I live to
type another day.
The Distress Of A Civilized Romantic
In The Modern World
I want to tell
young people stories
of heroes and
princes,
of fairy
godmother’s and wishes
come true.
I want life to
be beautiful again,
as it was before
heterosexuality
was “basic,”
and, “normal” a slur
or offense.
I want all to know
they’re worthy
of love, and,
for education to stop
making the young
unbearably dense.
Oh, to end
Tender, Bumble and all
else shriveling
the human heart.
A plea to put
down your phones,
to stop swiping
left and right.
I pray people
remember that humans
were once more
than beasts.
We’ve evolved
too far to return to the sea.
Single Seed
No person does
it alone,
A child is not a
potato
caught in dark
soil.
Our seeds are
sown by family.
If in one’s
youth the vine is broken
humanity is
less.
As is the individual
and all other
fruit left behind.
Less is the
ungrateful child
Who like a
branch fallen in a river
becomes bogged
down the further
it is swept
away.
Any child lost
is cause for sorrow,
because all of
our roots entwine.
Cast not oneself
as a single seed.
If anything
grows in you at all,
it will be the
rot of loneliness,
anger and greed.
Bend instead
towards the
sunlight and don’t
fall far from
your family tree.
Advice To My Younger Self
From My Higher Self
Ambition is the
alchemy of gold
Bad habits make
gold hard to hold.
Make
determination your magic,
gambling and
other vice
will leave you
tragic.
Misplaced
passions can decimate
personal gains.
However, with
work prosperity rains.
Be steady,
brave, fair and true. And,
know, dear one,
I’m here for you.
Aging
One never
imagines oneself old
until time rests
upon one’s face
reducing youth’s
natural grace.
How glorious it
was to have youthful appeal!
To lose it
slowly seems unreal. Yet, I have
known the sorrow
of society’s reduced zeal.
Even with a half
century and more,
I cannot grasp
my final days. Instead,
I proceed in
denial’s gentle haze.
KELLE GRACE GADDIS
KELLE GRACE GADDIS is the author of My
Myths published (Yellow Chair Review) and When I’m Not Myself (Cyberwit). Her
work has appeared in BlazeVOX, Rhetoric Askew, Dispatches Editions and
elsewhere. She is a 4Culture "Poetry on the Buses" winner, a National
Fiction War winner, and three-time NYC Midnight top ten finalist 2022-2023.
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