we are gathered here together to celebrate the mess/of folks in the twitter streets showing us their asses/trying to bring beef until you show up at they address/quiet as a church mouse sorry that they reckless/out here being petty censoring the writing best/raising up their profile on their rival’s armrest/who made these people god to decide on whose a guest/the ones throwing shade need the raid they use for pests/playing checker games won’t get you wins on chess/nor more than smoking ganja will bring back hess/slander competition and get nerve to profess/that they are the victims unjustly in duress/is this how certain indies treat their publishing folk/waiting in the wings hoping certain publishers croak/mad as hell when they become a little publishing joke/cuz not every writer writes a checklist of the woke/if you see like I see you can figure out the press/cuz its more than one entity causing the duress/follow your nose and let the censorship caress/if you tweet like I tweet you won’t even need a guess/these woke types of people follow in the same plan/these type of sheeple wallow in the same pan/the pull out method ain’t work for Afghanistan/nor is it working for the literary Taliban/who stepping in the streets touting racial progress/but lacking dark faces on the masthead dress/who fronting new writers that they paying even less/taking violence out of crime cutting creative access/just ask the publishers who feel betrayed/watching folks they gave their start to let them bleed with no aid/watched a lot of cold shoulders claim they got to get paid/is this how certain writers comp literary upgrades/and if that be the case then why they need the Medicaid/it is what it is how you like that shade/cuz a bitch is a bitch no matter how they portrayed/just ask the publishers trying to convalesce/from the competition running rumors knocking their success/mad cuz they wont follow the mantras to oppress/now every other week its indie slander and stress/where I come from that’s called beef/and you step outside you gonna have to knuckle up chief/fucking with folks money you get branded a thief/they would know that if they stopped with the twitter queefs/let me break it down how this will transgress/cuz the shit would be funny if they had some finesse/the entire scene is crashing to hell on the bullshit express/trying to err to the side of olive branches with woke god bless/this a very small pond running out of clean water/once they pull the pin the grenade gets hotter/your sales won’t go father than a fly swatter/run and tell that on your next twitter blotter/right after you cry victim louder than a sea otter/the writers and the fans just won’t even bother/and won’t be nothing left but hack ass squatters/like those weekend cats they call blues lawyers/simon and schuster will be happy for the dollar/cheering another indie thrown up on the alter/you’ll be the last of the first of the rest of the cannon fodder/while you nut jobs celebrate the handiwork of your slaughter/it is what it is I said what I said/this shade needs to stop its become too widespread/it ain’t my fault if that don’t get through your thick heads/maybe you’ll get it once you see the red in your overhead.
Tia’s work has been featured in Pulp Modern, Punk Noir Magazine, Pulp
Modern, Close To The Bone Poetry, Satire has been featured on HumorOutcasts,
ArticulateMadness, PulpModern Flash and the upcoming issue of
Econoclash Review. Her written work has been featured in Shogun Honey,
Tough Magazine, 45th Parallel Magazine, 365 Tomorrows, Flashback
Fiction Magazine; as of late two of her short stories have appeared in Tough Crime Stories 2
and Shotgun Honey Presents Volume 4: Recoil.