Flock, or: killing the cop in your head

by Meagan R I used to love going where I wasn’t supposed to be. The street at 1 AM Where the asphalt was warm on my back and the moon looked so much brighter than from the safety of the yard An unfinished attic With books that have been out of print for decades and...

Steinbeck’s “The Winter of Our Discontent”

by Clayton C I don’t have a good answer for why I’ve waited this long to read this novel, “The Winter of Our Discontent,” by John Steinbeck. I’m glad I waited because it’s always nice to receive priceless new gifts that you will enjoy for the rest of your life....

The Price of Fitting In

by Darin D Over the last several years, while researching disability and higher education, I kept running into the same pattern: belonging was never unconditional. Disabled people were welcomed only as long as they remained easy to accommodate. Belonging, in most...

For Programmatic Unity

by Andrew D Last month DSA released its new program, Workers Deserve More. Already the Democratic Party consultant class and the right-wing media are losing their minds over its contents. The backlash only serves to trumpet our program and its goals to the working...

Why Democratic Socialism

by Mark B How does one arrive at a position where the philosophy of democratic-socialism makes sense? Oppression is a likely answer. Living through the same old song and dance of neoliberal capitalism that slowly extracts every bit of self-esteem from your soul,...

A World to Win

by QCDSA Steering Committee This July, our Chapter reached 150 members and continues to grow! This follows the extremely exciting news that nationally, The Democratic Socialists of America has reached a total of 120,000 members, surpassing the peak of Eugene Debs’...

Mother Jones

by Oscar Langford This poem appeared in Miner’s Magazine on May 15, 1913. They’ve put an injunction on old Mother Jones The language so stung From the brave woman’s tongue, And her truth-telling words were so noisy in tones They’ve tried the suppression of old Mother...

Thistle

by Rita Briar i will give you pause, weed-puller wear your gloves if you come at me or you’ll get pain, annoyance, it’s not your day So you wait a day, wait a week slow down just enough and I will bloom