there are ancient texts that state

that childbirth

is the punishment women get

for Eve’s original sin–

and alas, misogyny holds consistent.

we have one moment of

supposed autonomy

and by the whims of power

we can be forced into maternity

by men in suits.


people perceived as women

have long been told

that what they want for themselves

is of miniscule importance–

society will decide

what will be the female fate.

you will do what men say

and give them what they want,

repopulating the earth

whether that was your desire

or not.

what fate for those of us

born with this anatomy–

we are sex objects

and then incubator,

prescribed services to mankind

we are conditioned to think of

as our second nature.


put us in huts

for a week of the month,

subjugate us for our biology

and then use it

for your own means.

you want our stomachs to swell

to incapacitate us,

we cannot hold office

or god forbid,

raise our delicate flower voices

to the men in charge.


patriarchy knows what it’s doing,

and it will indignantly

subdue any power it finds bubbling

within our bodies.

and in this fate you subject to us,

we have to hold our fists

in the air

and proclaim

that just because you are born

with a uterus,

it does not mean

you want to be a parent.

and this curse

of violence on independent choice

will shift

tectonic plates,

eventually swallowing

this hierarchical evil



By Isis Zystrid


what are we living for?

what sole insect queen denounces

our right for a life of comfort

and plenty

as we toil

as her worker bees?


what purpose

does our life labor serve

to our own selves

if we are drained

from the bone

with work

for mere survival,

–the only other choice

being simply destitution?

when the pennies are

so bent and unpolished,

and so few to

barely fill

holes in fabric,

what life for ourselves

are we given?


what grudging labor

that we strain muscle

and sinew

till a days hopelessly

stretched end–

provide for our own lives?


what do these spine pains

gain us

as opposed to a threat

of “do this

or basic sustenance

will be stricken

from your mouth.”


who decides

for us to hold nothing

but bare bones survival?

who speaks in front of

those chosen for lives

of selfless,

corrosive servitude

and casts this fate upon us.



By Isis Zystrid


small chatter

leads to deeper pockets

of existence,

learning my profession

the MBA inquires of me:


“don’t you feel society

should teach

people to fish instead of

just giving them a fish?”


to be asked such a question

leaves me stunned,

something my badly stunted

bullet proof vest

is able

to guard me against.


i open my knowledge

dispensing factory

to fill the crevices

of the world

he has deliberaely

not been shown.


“well i suppose,

if the fish were not all

syphoned to the top

into the so few hands

burgeoning already

with abundance,

we could ask

why they do not

help themselves.


i suppose,

if there were enough jobs

available to serve as fish nets,

we could dismiss destitute

citizens as idle.


i suppose,

just supposing,

that if all schools were funded

on a level playing field

and every person

was embraced to fulfill

their potential,

then we could look

at their many

empty mason jars

and scoff.


if we could presume

that every person

were given the platform

to rise from the river

of degenerate status,

then perhaps we could question why

they do not master the skills

of fish rearing.


and with all suppositions


one could say,

that it is as though

the melliflouous water

of opportunity

is gated off

to a certain amount

of potential fishermen

at all times.”