Haikuism: (not) wanting to die by Deborah Olatunji
Deborah Olatunji. Photo submitted by the poet. haikuism: (not) wanting to die by Deborah Olatunji it feels taboo to name it in the moment(s) but you’re sinking deeper than you sw
THE LOVE NOW MEDIA LOVE LAB IS A PUBLIC STORYTELLING AND CIVIG ENGAGEMENT SPACE. WE USE ART, MEDIA, DIALOGUE, AND AI EDUCATION TO BUILD HUMAN CONNECTION AND STRENGTHEN COMMUNITIES.
Poets have been trusted voices for generations, giving impassioned contextual voice to critical issues of the times. As storytellers, their words often help society to further process and digest the news providing empathetic nuance to reporting done by journalists. The Poet’s Press contributors deliver views of life through a uniquely transparent lens while exploring critical issues connected to wellness, equity and justice.
THE POET’S PRESS IS SUPPORTED BY PEOPLE’S MEDIA FUND.
Deborah Olatunji. Photo submitted by the poet. haikuism: (not) wanting to die by Deborah Olatunji it feels taboo to name it in the moment(s) but you’re sinking deeper than you sw
Qadir Crosby. Photo submitted by the poet. Deployment by Qadir Crosby As I packed my bags for the ArmyMy father said I became a man today Like merciless, mass murder makes me Any
Alicia Cook. Photo submitted by the poet. The Last Mile by Alicia Cook Five delivery robotswait on the corner for work—autonomous prostitutesunder a blinking store sign.Their sma
I hear the mother's and fathers cries in my sleep A collective memory A heartbeat we all felt until it stopped I feel their pain in my gut like I lost my son Hold him just a litt
Deborah Olatunji. Photo submitted by the poet. haikuism: (not) wanting to die by Deborah Olatunji it feels taboo to name it in the moment(s) but you’re sinking deeper than you sw
Qadir Crosby. Photo submitted by the poet. Deployment by Qadir Crosby As I packed my bags for the ArmyMy father said I became a man today Like merciless, mass murder makes me Any
Alicia Cook. Photo submitted by the poet. The Last Mile by Alicia Cook Five delivery robotswait on the corner for work—autonomous prostitutesunder a blinking store sign.Their sma
I hear the mother's and fathers cries in my sleep A collective memory A heartbeat we all felt until it stopped I feel their pain in my gut like I lost my son Hold him just a litt
