2020 will soon arrive like a suspicious package with no return address. We forget what’s in the box we spent decades to order, but beneath those pale green packing peanuts lurks every IOU we wrote our kids, shards of every promise not handled with care. We’re liable to slit a wrist sifting through fragments to find something still whole.
Will 2020 be a year of clear sight (I’m not talking schoolhouse gunsight) or will Congress mobsters continue to pardon closet monsters for profit? Each day, the boogeymen chloroform our children’s future to stuff in an unmarked bank account.
frak\ture won’t stand for abducted hopes and dreams age processed 30 years. Starting today, frak\ture seeks to inspire others to write poems for change. We’re proud to announce our series called A Hard Rain where you can submit a poem recently written to a government official about your concern for the future.
Together, let’s ensure 2020 is not a year of regretful hindsight. Solutions are the new black and art needs to bring tough questions back into fashion. This clothing line is for the lion’s roar, not the catwalk. Our audience is a president whose shriveled ego continues to selfsuck, an establishment that thinks skin tone should compliment a black body bag, and a congress that believes climate crisis is an episode of Captain Planet. Their thoughts taste like grape Kool-Aid and everyone’s sharin’, everyone’s Charon ferrying us fast to the other side.
Submit to resist.
