Poems from Oisin HendriX
To the African soldier raised to be hard in the concrete jungle of western abyss, who dreams in black and white, I pray with baited hope...
I hold on to this feeling that I should stick around in the city of my daughters birth as some kind of totemic act of resilience against...
Oh to be white I’d be witty and gay and have cuddles and love at the end of the day there’d be cream in my tea and guards to guard me from...