Inclusion: the action or state of including
or being included within a group or structure
Solution: a means of solving a problem or
dealing with a difficult situation
Now, is ‘inclusion’ the ‘solution’?
Is confiding not always in yourself,
but being able to confide in people you trust:
not an impeccably simple way to solve complications?
Some people that dwell in isolation
succumb to despondency and desolation
wrap themselves in a costume of facades.
Inclusion eradicates these issues.
We as humans
want answers to our questions,
resolutions to our complications;
a myriad of different perspectives
can quickly enlighten and open the eyes
of those who truly seek a solution.
Solution to what?
Solutions to those “impossible questions”,
Solutions to those “exasperating situations” we can’t seem to get out,
Solutions to those “family troubles”
those “social problems”.
Inclusion is no secret,
it’s the biggest weapon we as people have.
Inclusion gives all of its users the power
Inclusion is power,
the real wealth beneath our skins.
we have the solution.
why am i
in the midst of
satisfied by it?
I've made my contributions
Got a raft of ticket stubs
From countless institutions
Social groups and clubs
In search of some inclusion
I've paid my dues and subs
But have come to the conclusion
I just belong in pubs.
Why are there so many beautiful ones.
There is the one who speaks in stripes. - J
The one who works with strides. - L
The one who knows with stares. - A
The one who reads with care. - R
The one with flaring red hair. - F
The one who smiles with confusion. - H
The one who desires inclusion. - E
The one who usually makes the wrong choice. - K
The one with the extremely beautiful voice. - G
Standing in the silence of loneliness,
I ponder a life with others,
A day in the sun with friends,
With family and lovers,
But instead i wait patiently,
Patiently longing for an inclusion,
Far away from my...
Russian black grass and an ornate pattere garden
pheasants basking in uncertainty
culpable designs eyeing towards Yellow book inclusion,
asks more than the obelisks shadows casting down the acers,
the mia crocus still a red mist
before laying the asphalt driveway.
in the past
and in our pain
lies the ruin
that is longing
we take our moments
of clarity and replace them
with syllables to describe
what cries inside us
plights of solitude
tail us in our
desperation for inclusion
collide with memories
dragging our eyes
to the backs of our heads
younger times, I’d lose some of my hair when bathing the sick. now older, I am not a private person. I foresee helping father with his winter gloves and him thinking I’ve returned his hands. if sick, one shouldn’t be grateful for the inclusion. there’s a shit son in all of us.