@geswho
“Husband, Cat-Father. Actor, Singer, Techie, Geek. Esquire, Poet, Friend.” Haiku Twaiku™ GESWho® since 1968. Renewed 11/5/1985 on Quantum-Link. #Resist Instagram @G.E.S.Who and @GESWhoNet Threads @GESWhoNet and @G.E.S.Who Twitter @GESWho
Just in: confirmation of massive cuts to Medicare! Over $500 Billion according to Congressional Budget Office (CBO) estimating a total of $535 Billion! CALL YOUR CONGRESSIONAL REP 202-224-3121. Tell them NO CUTS TO MEDICAID OR MEDICARE!
Can You Still Get a COVID Vaccine at Any Age? www.aarp.org/health/condi...
This is how to honor teachers.
A defiant poem about rejecting conformity and the quiet violence of societal expectations. I wrote it as a personal vow—something to hold onto when the world tries to sand down the edges that make us real. Things I Won’t Grow up to Be I won’t grow up to wear a borrowed face, A ghost who grins to bless what should be blamed. I won’t play dead to guard a dying place, Or hold my tongue to keep the wildness tamed. I won’t be sold in velvet-wrapped control, A statue built on silence and deceit. I won’t throw roses in a burning hole Or praise the boots that crush beneath their feet. I won’t be kind if kindness means obey, Or blur my name to fit inside their frame. I won’t be calm when cruelty has its say— If I go down, I’m going down in flame. I won’t be theirs. I won’t be bent or still. I am the storm that shatters what they build.
Hole I Can’t Face A poem about doing good things to keep darker thoughts at bay—using kindness as a bandage for an inner wound you’re afraid to confront. I wrote it to name that hidden motive and admit the hole is still there, no matter how much light I pour around it. Hole I Can’t Face They call me kind—a poet, father, friend, I give my change, I try to hold the line. But none of it was ever done to mend— I’m just afraid of what rots down in mine. I write so I don’t drink, I love to stall the beast that gnaws my ribcage every night. I raise the lost so I won’t hear the call that says I’m worthless if I drop the fight. Each good I do’s a bandage on the chest where something gapes that never healed quite right. I’ve learned to dress my cracks and call it blessed— a holy mask to make the pain polite. They see a light. But I just run this race to keep from staring at the hole I can’t face.
Sigh You’ll Do A poem about settling for temporary comfort when real connection feels out of reach—two people using each other to quiet their own dread. I wrote it to capture that hollow hush we call “good enough” when we’re too tired to face the mirror. Sigh You’ll Do It’s last call, neon bleeds like shame, you catch the eyes of someone wrecked. Not love—just hunger with no name, a soul too tired to self‑correct. You’re not her dream, she’s not your plan, but silence needs a body near. So settle in, like ghosts who ran from something breathing in the mirror. We fake connection, share a bed, to dodge the scream behind our face. We’re not in love—we’re just in dread, distracting from the human race. And come Monday, crushed and barely through— we’ll tell ourselves: “Well… you’ll do.”
Too Stupid to Be a Coward A poem about mistaking numb endurance for bravery—surviving blow after blow, not from courage but from a stubborn emptiness. I wrote it to admit that sometimes “strength” is just not knowing how to quit, even when quitting might save you. Too Stupid to Be a Coward They call it brave—the way I never flinch— but corpses don’t recoil when knives go in. I smile like rust, and every passing inch just carves a truer mask beneath the skin. A smarter soul would vanish in the smoke, would beg the night for mercy, lie, or drown. But I just watch—too gutted to provoke— and wear each blow like some deflated crown. There’s no reward for wounds you didn’t choose, no anthem for the damned who stayed too long. The fire came—I didn’t even bruise. No courage here, just marrow made of wrong. You think I walked through hell because I’m brave— I never learned to crawl into a grave.
Some of us didn’t heal. We adapted.
We stitched up the silence and kept walking.
These poems aren’t pretty—they’re proof.
Let your story outlive the silence.
#PoetryDrop #BlueskyPoets #poems #poetry
💙💙💙
94% of the Single Action Shooting Society voted to exclude trans women from women's shooting categories.
I have more to say on that.
dime-novel-hero.dreamwidth.org/2025/05/16/
#cowboyaction #shootingsports #gunculture #firearms #bigotry #transphobia
Why does he wear orange make-up in the first place? Can anyone explain it?!
I am not often quoted in @nytimes.com DealBook, but I hope the business community is listening.
This seems like the most optimistic outcome to the current Trump policies.
Break out the pet rocks and mood rings.
#RadioFreeAmerica
www.fastcompany.com/91326625/wil...
Man-baby thinks it’s not fair that all of the other tyrants get parades…Boo Hoo .. 😭
I don’t care who the CEO is.
The brand is dead.
The Education Department says millions of borrowers in default will have a chance to make a payment or sign up for a repayment plan. But on May 5, those who don't will be referred for collection.
Page One must have been crowded.
So NYT puts it on Page 13. 🤡
@schooley.bsky.social
Claims that possible signs of life were found on a planet called K2-18b made a big splash. But recently, other researchers and a new analysis have cast doubt on the findings.
RFK Jr and Statistics:
What are we even talking about at this point? Imagine being president & saying “I don’t know” when asked if you’re supposed to uphold the Constitution. That’s not just ignorance, it’s a flaming neon billboard blinking “I will do anything to stay in power”
www.cnn.com/2025/05/05/p...
Aren’t these the same guys who wrongly accuse immigrants of being a strain on our resources?
In an executive order, President Trump directs the Corporation for Public Broadcasting to stop funding NPR and PBS, the nation's primary public broadcasters.
A black and white illustration of a pregnant woman sitting on a chair. Another woman is supporting her from behind, while a second woman is sitting in front of her, ready to help deliver the baby.
For centuries, a “gossip” was a woman who attended another woman's delivery. The word was a corruption of “god-sib” or “god-sibling,” meaning “sister in the Lord.” The gossips offered support to mother and midwife. Only later did the term take on a derogatory meaning.
Just openly stuffing money into the president's pockets. Right in front of us.
another illegal executive order
i am sure this will all be fine
Justice and due process for ALL.
Jumped on a livestream with @HarryLitman.bsky.social minutes after a Trump-appointed judge found the AEA proclamation “unlawful.” The basis for the El Salvador flights.
That’s Manhattan Fed Court behind me.
We discussed— www.allrisenews.com/p/unlawful-h...
I love this! We could argue about the Met Gala, sure. But I do love to see the clothes anyway. And talking about Black dandies is perfect at this political moment (it doesn't solve anything, but it's a celebration, right in the face of white nationalism). apnews.com/article/blac...
Coffee is made.
Manatees are fed.
Time to get moving!
Good Morning, America!
#RadioFreeAmerica
youtu.be/IsoqRvYqWDg
"Were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers, or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter." - Thomas Jefferson
#RadioFreeAmerica
