Hope Is Resistance by Britt Wolfe
Hope is not fragile, and it is not polite. It does not sit patiently, waiting for permission. Hope is a fist through the silence, a spark in the tinder, a refusal to bow when bowing would be easier. It is resistance—not in theory, but in practice. Because to keep believing in better when the world insists on worse is the most radical thing we can do.
These are poems written from that place—the marrow-deep conviction that words matter. They are not decorative. They are not ornamental. They are a blade sharp enough to cut through the theatre of cruelty and a balm for those who still dare to dream. If you came here for neutrality, you will not find it. (You may, however, find your spine straightening. Side effects vary.)
So read on, if you must. Rage with me, laugh bitterly with me, roll your eyes with me at the absurdity of tyrants terrified of library cards. Here, in this corner of my work, hope and resistance sit together at the table, refusing to leave quietly. And if that makes anyone uncomfortable—good. It was never meant to be comfortable
Be Woke, My Friends
The word woke has been twisted, mocked, and wielded as an insult by those who fear its true meaning. But strip away their distortion, and what remains is something powerful and profoundly human: the act of staying awake to injustice, of caring deeply for one another, of refusing to look away when cruelty demands silence. Be Woke, My Friends is a reclamation of that word—a reminder that compassion is not weakness, that justice is not madness, and that choosing to see and to act is the bravest thing we can do.🕊️
Capitalism Killed Us
Capitalism Killed Us is both elegy and indictment—a vision of the world after collapse, where humanity has been undone not by fate but by its own hand. It speaks to the slow violence of greed disguised as progress, of profit worshipped at the cost of survival. In its aftermath, the poem mourns the silenced earth and the hollow monuments we left behind, while forcing us to confront the truth: that the system we upheld was never designed to save us, only to consume us. It is a requiem for what was lost, and a warning for what we might still choose to preserve.🕊️