m.t. whitington


A force majeure, female catalyst, futurist, polemicist, psychonaut, epistemologist. Ruminating between the lines with a clarion call and extreme unction.  A global writer with southern roots.


masked veil

masked veil

masked veil

it’s coming on a masked veil,
smells like fresh flowers of evil,
gasping and sweating in fever,
bleeding out even the believer. 

our home planet rebels in epidemic,
here comes a world pandemic,
riding our global hyperconnection,
a simple natural cure goes undetected.

before it even has a name,
before it reveals its genetic code,
a simple virus is to blame,
this time is it too late for an antidote?

if we could slow the cytokine storm,
the smart head for quarantine, 
the outbreak jumps an invasion swarm,
zoonosis trying to drive us back gleaned.

blazing in my head tight and suffocating,
cool thinking while everyone else is ranting,
do humans deserve to survive in this madhouse?
slipping behind its masked veil, the armageddon virus burns out.

the quick and the dead

the quick and the dead

lucky lilitu

lucky lilitu