Dr Troy

Thank you!

Surrealist image of a young woman standing in a desolate landscape. Towering above her are two floating humanoid heads, whose eyes are closed and who seem to be at peace, in acceptance of what is.

Dichotomy

Fear is tension of the future,
a shadow cast by the shape of our wanting,
always measuring,
always preparing.

Love is the breath of now.
It sits inside the room, where nothing needs to change.
It listens,
not to fix,
but to know.

#resistancepoetry

A bald man with red beard and glasses is sitting quietly among the trees, with a glowing sunlight radiating in the background.

But in the quiet of a breeze,
or the gaze of a stranger,
we can feel the world shift,
lightened by the connection
we share with the earth,
and with each other. (2/2)

Entangled

#resistancepoetry

Everything is tangled,
threads weaving between air, trees, and hands.

We grasp for clarity,
but the weight pulls down our thoughts
and turns peace into noise. (1/2)

Full black silhouette of an evil old conman gripping a scale of justice and purposely tilting it to one side. There is a withered American flag in the background

Extortion

#resistancepoetry

In a deal made to veil lies,
the law,
a thing once trusted, bends under weight of privilege and open threats.

So fragile egos curry favor,
knowing that power,
loose at the edges,
and built on paper-thin lines,
will falter without their beguiling corruption.

The dawn of a new beginning is upon us.
One in which our resolve
Will cast out the bleak gloom,
And allow our spirits to rise. (5/5)

This is not just another turn of the wheel.
It is a rendezvous with destiny,
A reckoning that holds both fear and light,
And wisdom of the ancients. (4/5)

Every failure is a mirror,
Reflecting shadows from the past,
But they carry with them the promise of clarity,
A soft glow hidden beneath the fog. (3/5)

We stand at the edge of a turning point,
Watching threads unravel in their strange,
Yet somehow, familiar form,
Caught in the rhythm of a crisis. (2/5)

A wheel of time sits in the middle of a foggy landscape. It is glowing brightly through the fog.

Rise

#resistancepoetry

The patterns, as old as time,
Teeter between collapse and surge.
But even in this fragile balance,
There is something unbreakable.
(1/5)

The silhouette of a fat dictator with blond hair is standing at a podium, facing a huge crowd of skeltons who are staring at him with gaping eyes. one arm is raised in front of him and his hand is in a fist, with his index finger pointing to the sky. The room is dark with red lighting

The Strongman
#resistancepoetry

D-emocracy resides
I-n a fragile balance.
C-onformity is not unity, despite what
T-hose who want you to believe it say,
A-nd who do everything they can
T-o consolidate their power and
O-ppress those who
R-esist the rise of authoritarian rule.

As we praise the rush,
the quickness of breaking,
thinking that in a blur,
we might find meaning,

We turn away from the hum of balance,
to chase the chaos of fragmented vision,
never seeing how we are lost
in the scattering.
(2/2)

Image of colorful rug being unraveled and the long threads turn into broken shards of glass on the floor

Iconoclast

#resistancepoetry

As we hurry to unravel the complex weave,
thinking destruction is freedom,

As we hasten to shatter the polished mirror,
thinking each shard is a small victory,
(1/2)

Here is an easy thing you can do today to support trans people and fight authoritarianism: 👇

The clouds will part,
letting light creep in,
causing the ice to crack with a sound too soft to notice at first—a murmur, perhaps—that builds to a roar.

With patience and light,
the shadows will recede,
and the horizon slowly hum the melodic promise of a new turning.

Divisions carve deeper into the soil, where seeds of trust used to grow. There is little warmth in the air, just endless grey and the quiet hum of restless hearts.

Yet the earth still turns beneath this heavy stillness, and soon, the thaw will come.

Image of the United States frozen over into a dark winter. There is a lone, leafless tree standing proudly on the map and dark clouds that are just beginning to part, show a glimmer of light about to thaw the frost.

The Promise of Spring

#resistancepoetry

The chill has set in deep,
as the weight of a dark winter presses hard against the bones of the land.

🙌 and… you are NOT alone

He speaks of strength,
but stands unsure,
like a shadow flickering on a fading wall. 
And yet, the crowd believes,
their eyes wide shut and dreaming of emeralds.

A frail and weak evil old man with a short, white beard and red eyes, is emerging from behind a torn, black velvet curtain and is holding emeralds in his hand. There is a tarnished and decaying golden road under his feet and a small, black winged monkey on his shoulder.

The Wizard

#resistancepoetry

Behind the curtain, frail and torn,
stands a figure shrouded in empty bluster.
No brains, no heart, no courage.

A wizard with no wisdom,
too small for the illusions he’s projected.
No golden road.
Just hollow words and flying monkeys creating chaos.

Listen to the silence
that speaks louder than all their words. 
The silence where freedom once stood,
now hollow,
echoing the absence of what is lost.

The silence that occurs after the rustle of papers,
signed with the dark ink of privilege, ceases.
Those false words that promise freedom but chain the spirit.

A distraught man, sitting crosslegged, with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, in the middle of a dark theater stage. There is a single spotlight on him

Listen to the silence

#resistancepoetry

Listen to the silence. 
Not the bellowing speeches that echo from gilded towers,
but the quiet hum of a world unspoken,
where power sneakily shifts beneath the weight of clandestine hands.

Feel.
I feel.
What I feel? Love.
“HELP them feel what I feel.”
Love is the only way. ❤️

Souls that need healing. Souls that are holding onto so much suffering.

Suffering that has nowhere else to go. Suffering that is so deep that it seems there is no other way of knowing.

Knowing only suffering, the destroyed will destroy. “Make them feel what I feel!”

A group of lights in the shape of broken hearts, all being mended by a single, long silver thread.

Deconstructed

#resistancepoetry

The destruction IS the point.

Create fear. Create chaos.
Create opportunity for the few to get more.

More power. More control.
More fodder to feed the ego and temporarily appease the broken souls.

Look at that Black!
Look at that lazy!
But don’t look at me, as I feign ignorance and sit in shame, while I perpetuate the sins of our past.

Look at me!
Look. At. Me!
LOOK AT ME!!

Because I cannot bear to look at myself.

Look at that queer!
Look at that abomination!
But don’t look at me, beating my wife, as I hide my deep dark secret.

Look at that Brown!
Look at that immigrant!
But don’t look at me, when I pay them pennies because I need to squander my fortune.