The Galaxy They Blasphemed
Poetry by Preshona Ghose
Art by Wesley Vara

I am "cosmo"

they call me at work
but see, they just can't know
the world that exists in that dearth

of attention
should I mention
how labels killin my brother
strung up on meds
he lays in bed

not imagining another
way to look at his deficit
or could it be legit
that his mind's just processin some shit?
who is he to come to be -sedated?

when he just movin through tunnels -we ourselves excavated?
through the turns of his life.
interpreting insanity,
stepping on the sanctity
of a mindburnt from its strife
this unique inner sight,

and you just say he ain't right
and you call out
that my silence is my vision, closed and unconcerning?
when we all society's infants, through our own burqas-discernin

but here you're on, pickin from sobriety's inebriants
and stamping some deviant.
"he just not right", "and her--not all bright"
and from our souls you take bites
with your cynical barks
with your commercial solutions
and mechanical thoughts

selling "normal" -pollutants
to the gods you alone
have weakened inside
and yet you look down
on people feeble of pride?
while you pride
-yourself in fishing

the prescriptions you envision
bout a person's existence,
to hear your words fill these holes
tell me, did you even ask them
or their minds unavailable
-for questioning?
And your victims incapable

of suggesting
A worthy self-defense
Cuz you perceive it not as their gate
But an obstruction, a fence
To the reasons that are breathing the life in their souls
But hell, nah, forget it, cuz that's impractical
could it be possibly that they too weak from not tryin--

And don't even know?
Absorbed deep by the same lines
That gave you a good blow?
so welcome to the show
now I'll collect your tickets
And you stay in line

And tell me can you dig it
The show of winners and losers
With self-confidence the prize
And the waiver: your life, your name,
And thecanopy ayour pride.
And to no longer be able
to claim the sanctity of your mind.
Just sit back and recline
And enjoy the diversion, trite
And watch us all dine
in the American perversion of life.