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All that you perceive is impermanence
No thing is begot by Nothing
All that can ever be known is but
    a cap
           upon a crest
                              upon a wave
                                                 upon an ocean
                                                                       upon a sphere
                                                                                            upon nothing
                                                                     within a sphere
                                              within an ocean
                          within a wave
       within a crest
within a cap
All that recedes is increasing
Nothing transmutes to No thing
All is externally breathing
                                           w
                                              a
                                                 v
                                               e
                                             s
into your perception
You are but a w
                         a
                       v
                         e
But you already knew that
look at you,
little selfish man.
is this what you want to be?
dismissing everyone and closing
yourself to help.
hiding behind big guns and words
with no meaning.

look at you,
little selfish man.
when will you understand
that it is not about you;
that your feelings do not matter
when there's a whole new world
to see

look at you,
little selfish man.
when will you learn
to show kindness
instead of judgement;
to be human
instead of this
m
o
n
s
t
e
r
you've become

look at you,
little selfish man,
and be ashamed.
  Mar 2015 Michael J Daisey Jr
Zoe Sue
So visual
Men
We sit them in front of TVs
Where barbie doll lookalikes
Singsong stereotypes
In search of the perfect man and family to cater to
The little girls watching think this to be fulfillment

I change to the news
And fake **** read the newest disaster
With a splash of celeb gossip after
Girls look to mirrors with shame
And I pray to love a blind man

Turn to politics
Where we find women
Like four leaf clovers
To pick out and scrutinize
Dehumanize
Objectify
She must've shown too much leg again
Because there's nothing of her words on the tabloids
Now young girls will only know power in their bodies
Wearing stolen ******* and a stolen smile
Stripping off her self respect with her dress

I live in a patriarchal society
That plays down feminism like a government scandal
I am oppressed
I am repressed
But this is not a woman problem
This is not a feminist problem
This is a societal problem
She sits on the bed and reads me
Old poetry
About ******, sadness, and loss
All synonyms
For the same affliction really
Dysfunction and despair
Captured in yellowed archival snapshots
Of a girl
With a penchant for surviving pain

Mortality leaps
From the prose as she reviews her life
In hellish imagery
A transmutation of spirit occurs
Within her
As she drifts through the years
On each page
Melancholy awareness for us both realizing
That it's all real

No one can take away the scars that
Every word cuts
No one can deny the inviolable fortitude
Required to document
The war embedded and entrenched on the front lines
Just old poetry
To me they resonate like a distant bell
Her sudden silence
Whispers that the dead still scream her name
HER
Cotton candy and barbed wire define my world
Pink painted princess walls by day become
A torture chamber by night as I am
Dragged to hell by the gnashing teeth of his demon
Sweet sunlight falls on my face in patterned squares
As I play with dolls on the cloudy carpet
In this bright fantasy Barbie can tell Ken NO!
And shut him away forever in the toy box
At night, in the gloom of reality Ken creeps from
Within the toy box of her mind with his filthy fingers
And beer breath. Light the color of
Sickness forces it's way into my supposed
Safe space as the shadow silently enters the doorway
That's my cue to feign sleep and run
Run so far away into my mind
But there is no escape from grotesque horrors which
Invade even the psyche. Every padded cubby becomes a
Sordid pit of persecution where a demon devours
The savory scraps of a little girl's soul
Every blissful oasis scorched
Into a treacherous wasteland of sewage
Even my dreams, once populated by roller skates
And dolphins, offer no respite from the
Demented dealings with demonic deities.
Blood and Pain and Scars and Lies and Hate
Are all the sandman has to deliver most nights
Underlying it all is Fear, fear of the truth
The truth being it will only end
In death. Mine or his
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